From Dust to Dreams: The Defiant Rise and Untimely Fall of Robbins, Illinois

  Black Wings Against a White Sky

They tried to clip our wings before we even learned to fly. They slammed the doors of their fancy white airports in our faces, sneered at the audacity of Black folks daring to touch the sky. But they underestimated the fire in our bellies, the burning desire to break free from their earthbound chains.

In the dusty soil of Robbins, Illinois, a beacon of defiance took root in 1933. The Robbins Airport wasn't just a patch of leveled ground; it was a middle finger to segregation, a testament to the unwavering spirit of Black aviators who refused to be grounded by prejudice.

Imagine it: Black hands, calloused and determined, clearing land, hammering nails, fueled by a dream that soared higher than any Jim Crow sign. John C. Robinson, the visionary, the man who'd later breathe life into Ethiopian Airlines and inspire the Tuskegee Airmen. Cornelius R. Coffey, the mechanical genius, a brother who could coax metal into the heavens. These weren't just names; they were warriors in flight caps, battling a world that told them they didn't belong in the air.

They built their own damn airport. They carved out their own space in a world that tried to deny them any. The Challenger Air Pilots' Association, a band of brothers and sisters with wings in their hearts, made Robbins a sanctuary. It was the ONLY accredited Black-owned airport in this racist nation, a place where Black folks could learn to pilot, to wrench, to OWN the skies.

Think about the sheer audacity. In a time when the very notion of Black equality was a dangerous fantasy to the white power structure, these individuals weren't just dreaming; they were building. Janet Harmon-Bragg, a nurse with a pilot's soul, put her own money down, bought a plane for the cause. These weren't just hobbyists; they were pioneers forging a path where none existed.

Robbins wasn't just about planes taking off; it was about dreams taking flight. It was a symbol of self-reliance, a defiant roar against the suffocating silence of segregation. It was OURS.

But the white world, even when it wasn't directly attacking, cast a long, dark shadow. Whispers of hostility from neighboring white communities lingered in the air. Tales of Black pilots forced down miles from Robbins facing harassment and arrest for the crime of landing while Black. The air itself felt thick with their resentment.

And then, nature, in its cruel indifference, delivered a blow. In May 1933, a brutal windstorm ripped through Robbins, tearing apart the hangar, mangling the planes. The dream, so fiercely fought for, lay in ruins.

Did the feds shut them down directly? Maybe not with a formal decree. But the constant pressure, the systemic denial of resources, the hostile environment – these were all weapons in their arsenal. And when the storm hit, where was the support? Where was the outstretched hand to help rebuild? Crickets.

They might have thought they grounded us for good. They were wrong. The spirit of Robbins didn't die in that storm. Robinson, Coffey, and the others, unbent and unbroken, picked up the pieces and moved their fight to Harlem Airport (now Oak Lawn). The Coffey School of Aeronautics rose from the ashes, continuing the mission, eventually becoming a crucial training ground for the legendary Tuskegee Airmen.

Robbins might be a footnote in some dusty history books, but it's a screaming headline in the story of Black resilience. It's a reminder that even when the world tries to clip your wings, the fire within can still take you to the heavens. They couldn't kill the dream. They only forced it to find a new runway. And damn if we didn't soar.

Apologies for My Absence: A Quick Update

Hope this message finds you well. I want to sincerely apologize for my absence over the past month. Life threw some unexpected challenges my way, including a health issue that needed my attention and managing things with my kids. 

I appreciate your understanding and patience during this time. Now that things are settling down, I'm back and eager to share more content with you. Thank you for sticking around, and I can’t wait to catch up with you all!

Warm regards,  

Rosie

A Mother’s Heartbreak: The Tragic Murder of Cyrus Carmack-Belton

As a Black mother of eight, with three of my children being sons, the recent tragedy surrounding the murder of 14-year-old Cyrus Carmack-Belton has struck a chord deep within my soul. This gut-wrenching incident is not just another headline; it is a piercing reminder of the reality my sons, and countless other Black boys, face every day in America. It is a stark illustration of how quickly an innocent life can be extinguished under a cloud of suspicion, racism, and vigilante justice.

Cyrus was accused of stealing four water bottles—an accusation that was proven false by surveillance footage. Yet, instead of calling the authorities to handle the situation, Rick Chow, the convenience store owner, took it upon himself to enact what he perceived as justice. This was not justice; it was blatant racism, fueled by fear and prejudice. The reality is that Cyrus didn’t steal anything. He merely touched the bottles and placed them back. In any civilized society, this interaction would have ended there, but instead, it escalated to a fatal confrontation.

The choice to chase and shoot a child in the back is nothing short of cold-blooded murder. As Sheriff Leon Lott poignantly stated, “You don’t shoot somebody in the back if he’s not a threat to you.” This is a truth that should resonate with every person, especially those in positions of authority. The systemic racism that allowed this to happen is a cancer in our society, and it must be eradicated.

I find myself thinking about Cyrus’s mother, about the joy he brought into her life, and the dreams she had for him. As a mother, I cannot fathom the pain she must feel knowing her son was taken from her in such a senseless manner. This could have been my child, or yours. The fear we carry as mothers of Black sons is a heavy burden, knowing that their innocence can be stripped away in an instant due to the color of their skin.

As a community, we must demand accountability. Rick Chow should face the maximum sentence allowed by law—nothing less. We cannot allow this to be another case where justice is served lightly, leaving families to mourn while perpetrators walk away with a slap on the wrist. This was not just a crime against Cyrus; it was a crime against humanity. 

Cyrus’s murder is reminiscent of the story of Latasha Harlins, whose life was cut short under similar circumstances. We cannot let history repeat itself. We must rise and demand change, not just for Cyrus, but for all our children. We need to ensure that their lives matter, that their futures are protected, and that they can grow up without the fear of being targeted for who they are.

Let us honor Cyrus’s memory by continuing to fight for justice. Let us demand that the system holds those accountable who take the lives of our children without hesitation. As a mother, I refuse to stand by and let this go unchallenged. We must ensure that no mother has to endure the heartbreak of losing a child to senseless violence again.

Cyrus, your life mattered. We will not forget you. We will fight for justice in your name, and we will strive for a future where no child has to fear for their life simply because of the color of their skin. It’s time for real change, and it starts with us.

This blog is inspired by the article written by Martie Bowser for Blavity.com on May 31, 2023.

From the Depths of Despair: The Unyielding Spirit of Mary Lumpkin and the Birth of a University

As an African American, learning about the horrors endured by our ancestors never gets easier. It’s a pain that seeps into your bones, a sickness in your gut. And the story of Mary Lumpkin and the infamous Lumpkin's Jail hits particularly hard. It’s a stark reminder of the barbaric cruelty our people faced, a cruelty embodied by white men who saw us as property, not people.

Robert Lumpkin was one of those men. A notorious slave trader, he operated a living hell in Richmond, Virginia, known as "The Devil's Half Acre." Thousands of Black souls were bought, sold, and tortured within its walls. And it’s here, in this place of unspeakable suffering, that Mary Lumpkin, an enslaved woman, was forced to live, to endure, and to survive.

The idea that this man, who inflicted such monstrous pain on so many, would also marry a Black woman—Mary Lumpkin—and father her children is almost too much to bear. It’s a twisted, grotesque testament to the absolute power dynamic of slavery, where even the most intimate relationships were corrupted by ownership and violence. Imagine the unimaginable burden on Mary, forced to bear children by her enslaver, knowing the precariousness of their existence, constantly fighting for their freedom.

But here’s where Mary Lumpkin's story transforms from one of pure agony to one of breathtaking triumph. Amidst the dehumanization, the rapes, the forced pregnancies, Mary Lumpkin somehow, miraculously, maintained her spirit and her agency. She made a pact with the devil himself, ensuring her children's freedom, educating them, and sending them away from the clutches of slavery before the war. She even offered quiet acts of defiance and kindness, providing comfort to other suffering souls in that hellhole.

And then, a twist of fate so profound it feels divinely orchestrated: upon Robert Lumpkin’s death, Mary inherited the very jail that had been a monument to his evil. Think about that for a moment. The woman who had been brutalized within its walls, who had seen her people bought and sold there, became its owner.

What did she do with this symbol of oppression? She didn't dwell in its shadow. She didn't seek revenge in kind. Instead, in an act of extraordinary vision and hope, she leased the property to a white Baptist minister and abolitionist, Nathaniel Colver. His purpose? To establish a school for newly freed African Americans.

The “Devil’s Half Acre” was reborn as the Richmond Theological School for Freedmen, eventually becoming Virginia Union University (VUU), one of our nation's most vital Historically Black Colleges and Universities. The very ground where our ancestors were enslaved became consecrated ground for their liberation through education.

Mary Lumpkin's actions were not just practical; they were revolutionary. She literally transformed a site of immense trauma into a beacon of knowledge, empowerment, and freedom. For too long, her pivotal role in this incredible transformation was overlooked, yet her legacy is undeniable. She is the mother of VUU, a testament to the unyielding spirit of Black women, who, despite facing the absolute worst of humanity, found ways to carve out a future for their people.

As African Americans, her story is a painful reminder of the past, but it is also an incredibly powerful source of inspiration. It shows us that even in the darkest of times, hope can bloom, and that the resilience of our ancestors can turn sites of sorrow into springs of salvation.

Embracing Our History: The Deep Significance of Lumpkin's Jail

  Introduction

As a Black person living in America, the history of Lumpkin's Jail resonates deeply within me. This site, located in Richmond, Virginia, stands as a stark reminder of the pain, suffering, and resilience of our ancestors. Known as the Richmond Slave Jail, it is not just a relic of the past; it is a monument to the struggles that have shaped who we are today. Join me as I reflect on the profound impact of Lumpkin's Jail and what it means for our collective identity.

The Birth of a Dark Chapter

Constructed in the early 19th century, Lumpkin's Jail was a place where the dreams of countless Black men, women, and children were snuffed out. It was more than just a holding facility; it was a prison of despair. Enslaved individuals were crammed into dark, dank cells, stripped of their dignity, and reduced to mere commodities. Each corner of this jail bears witness to the anguish and heartbreak of my ancestors, who endured unimaginable suffering in the pursuit of freedom.

A Breeding Ground of Human Tragedy

Tragically, Lumpkin's Jail was also a breeding ground for enslaved people, a grim reality that reflects the depths of human commodification. The forced reproduction of our ancestors turned their lives into a profit-driven enterprise, stripping them of their agency and humanity. This painful aspect of our history serves as a reminder of the resilience and strength that has carried us through generations.

  Personal Reflections: Stories of Our Ancestors

As I think about the lives lived within Lumpkin's Jail, I am filled with both sorrow and pride. Each story of heartbreak is a testament to the indomitable spirit of our people. Families were torn apart, futures were extinguished, yet through it all, our ancestors maintained their hope and resilience. Their strength inspires me to honor their legacy and to continue the fight for justice and equality.

  A Journey Toward Healing and Remembrance

Today, Lumpkin's Jail stands not only as a historical site but as a space for healing and remembrance. Initiatives aimed at commemorating those who suffered within its walls remind us of the importance of acknowledging our past. As we engage with this history, we forge connections to our ancestors, ensuring that their stories are not forgotten but celebrated.

  Conclusion: Embracing Our Legacy

Reflecting on the legacy of Lumpkin's Jail is a deeply personal journey for me. It serves as a reminder of the struggles my ancestors faced and the resilience they embodied. Acknowledging the brutal realities of slavery is essential for our healing and growth as a community. By honoring their stories, we empower ourselves to carry forward their legacy of strength, courage, and hope.

  Call to Action

If this post speaks to you, I encourage you to share it with others. Let’s keep the conversation alive about our history and the impact it has on our present and future. Together, we can ensure that the voices of our ancestors continue to resonate, guiding us toward a more just and equitable world.

Enough is Enough: Setting the Record Straight on "Black Diseases"

I’m beyond fed up with the bullshit narrative that paints African Americans as the source of diseases like AIDS and syphilis. Let’s get real: these diseases didn’t originate in our communities; they were brought here by European colonizers and spread across this continent. It’s time to call out this nonsense and reclaim our story.

 The Real Deal: Who Brought What

First off, let’s break down the myths. The idea that AIDS or syphilis is a “Black disease” is not only offensive but historically ignorant. These diseases have roots that stretch back to Europe, where they ravaged populations long before they ever touched African American lives. When Europeans colonized Africa and brought enslaved people to the Americas, they didn’t just bring human cargo; they brought their diseases too. So let’s stop pretending like this is a Black issue. It’s a legacy of colonialism and exploitation.

 The Scapegoating Game

Why do people insist on blaming Black communities for these diseases? It’s simple: scapegoating. It’s easier for some folks to point fingers than to confront the uncomfortable truth about their own history. By labeling these illnesses as “Black diseases,” they conveniently ignore the systemic issues that led to their spread—like poverty, lack of access to healthcare, and the long-term effects of racism.

This narrative serves to stigmatize an entire community while allowing others to sidestep accountability. It’s disgraceful and downright infuriating. We’re not here to be the punchline in someone else’s story.

 Time to Get Real and Raw

Let’s talk about the impact of this kind of rhetoric. It’s damaging. It perpetuates stereotypes and fuels discrimination, making it harder for African Americans to get the help we need. It’s about time we flipped the script and started speaking our truth. 

   Educate Yourself: Knowledge is power. Dive into the history of these diseases and understand where they come from. Arm yourself with facts so you can shut down the ignorant comments before they even start.

   Raise Your Voice: Don’t let people get away with this bullshit. If someone tries to label these diseases as “Black diseases,” call them out. It’s not about being polite; it’s about being honest.

   Celebrate Our Resilience: African Americans have faced countless challenges, from slavery to systemic racism, and we’ve thrived against all odds. Let’s highlight our stories of strength and resilience instead of letting others define us by their ignorance.

   Advocate for Change: Support initiatives aimed at improving healthcare access and education in our communities. We need to dismantle the barriers that have been put in place and ensure everyone has a fair shot at health.

 Conclusion

It’s time to stand up and say enough is enough. Let’s stop letting others dictate our narrative. Diseases may have been brought here by colonizers, but they don’t define who we are. We are a community of strength, resilience, and pride. Let’s own our history, fight against the stigma, and work towards a healthier future for all of us. 

Let’s get loud, get proud, and show the world that we won’t be silenced by ignorance!

The Complex Dynamics of Refugee Policies and Race Relations

 In today’s political landscape, discussions around race, immigration, and refugee policies are increasingly contentious. A recent discourse surrounding President Donald J. Trump’s statements about the treatment of white South Africans has sparked debates about race relations and the fairness of immigration practices in the United States.

 Claims of Genocide and Immigration Policies

President Trump has made assertions regarding a perceived race-based genocide against white South Africans, suggesting that these individuals face severe dangers and should be granted refugee status in the United States. This statement has prompted a strong response from the South African government, which has denied the claims, labeling them as misleading and unfounded. Such assertions can create a narrative that feeds into existing racial tensions, both domestically and internationally.

The implications of these statements extend beyond mere political rhetoric. The characterization of white South Africans as victims can overshadow the complex realities of race relations in South Africa, where historical injustices and systemic inequalities continue to affect various communities. When claims of genocide are made, they must be carefully scrutinized to understand the underlying socio-political dynamics at play.

 Disparities in Refugee Admissions

Adding another layer to this discussion is the reported disparity in how refugees from different racial backgrounds are treated. Reports indicate that while white South Africans may be considered for refugee status, black refugees from other regions often face significant barriers and are turned away. This raises serious questions about racial equity in immigration policies and the criteria used to assess refugee claims.

Discrimination in refugee admissions based on race not only undermines the principles of fairness and humanity but also highlights systemic biases that persist within immigration systems. The perception that certain groups are prioritized over others can exacerbate existing societal divisions and create further tensions within communities.

 The Importance of Context and Dialogue

The intersection of race, immigration, and political narratives is multifaceted and deeply rooted in historical contexts. Engaging in meaningful dialogue about these issues requires an understanding of the complexities involved. It’s crucial to recognize that narratives surrounding race and immigration can be wielded as political tools, often leading to conflicting interpretations and reactions.

As discussions continue to evolve, it’s essential to approach these topics with sensitivity and an openness to diverse perspectives. Addressing racial inequities and ensuring fair treatment for all individuals seeking refuge is a collective responsibility that must be prioritized in any immigration policy framework.

 Conclusion

In conclusion, the ongoing debates surrounding President Trump’s statements about white South Africans and the treatment of black refugees highlight the urgent need for introspection and reform within immigration policies. Acknowledging the historical and social contexts that shape these discussions is vital to fostering a more equitable and just society for all individuals, regardless of their background. Engaging with these complex issues thoughtfully can pave the way for more inclusive and effective policies that reflect the values of humanity and justice.