Have We Forgotten the Women of Plums?

I know that this blog tends to be about current political and social issues, but I believe that in order to make progress, sometimes we need inspiration from the past. Recently I was given an assignment in my Literature by Women on the Plantation course that required us to do a book review. Originally, I was going to do a novel but as time progressed, the subject matter was very uninteresting….I frankly did not care about the troubles of plantation mistresses with their “unruly, lazy” slaves. So then I came across a book entitled The Women of Plums which is a compilation of poetry by slave women. The following is the first poem of the book:

To Market, to Market

Arthur Mason’s Shopping List,
November 6, 1804

One Black Angus
One Yew
two Hogs
one Spinning Wheel
one Dresser Mirror
one nigger wench & child
(pay no more than $2,000)
twelve Silver Spoons
four Tea Cups
four saucers
six China Plates
one Pewter Tea-pot

Bill to be paid in full to Tydus Wellington,
Sixth of November, eighteen hundred and four.

I was speechless, my book had fully captivated my attention and although somewhere in my memory I believe I’ve come across this poem before, this time I was at a loss for words. My major forces me to notice the little things about literature such as the fact that the people on the list were lower cased which furthers their identity as property and they were also given a cost listed as “no more than” as if there is no way possible they should be worth more than the listed amount. This poem introduced poem after poem of riveting imagery and reflections of a past that I think we sometimes too soon forget. I congratulate the progress that African Americans have made but it seems like somewhere along the way the “talented tenth” has come to the conclusion that we have in many ways arrived. They dismiss any idea of slavery and feel no need for black unity across class barriers, but let’s not forget that we all came from this….

Happens that I be a slave woman,
maybe that makes me property,
not a human bein’ like all
you who come to buy me.
see if I’m sturdy, can hold ground,
can withstand the elements, bear fruit
when the seed is in me, like the Lord’s land,
sing for my supper when the seasons come,
give death the mortgage on my bones.

Don’t come near me! Stay away!
I’m not buyable yet,
I’m a bit unleavened.

Unleavened….yes, I think I can understand.

Blessings.