Red dead redemption 2 chain gang wanted posters

Literature Review

Write a Literature Review on Chapter 1 "You Aint Seen Nothing Yet" of Slaves of The State.

Guide to Writing Literature Reviews

Assignment Conception:

Literature Reviews gives students the opportunity to show their comprehension of assigned readings. Lit-Reviews also help students develop critical writing and reading skills. Successful lit-reviews show that students have read, comprehended the main concepts of an author’s argument and show the ability to critique and/or analyze the ideas being set forth by assigned authors. Thus, students are asked to be critical readers as well as analyzers of given arguments and concepts espoused by scholars.

Directions:

Lit-Reviews should consist of at least four major paragraphs. (See the creation of 5-step paragraphs below as a good guide)

Paragraph 1:

Introduce the scholar’s general topic and its relevance in contemporary society, academic study, or specific field.

What is the author’s overarching argument?

What is his/her concern?

What is the Big Picture concept in the essay?

Paragraph 2:

What resources, studies, or evidence provided by the author?

Analyze the author’s research and provide an example (quote from the reading)

Why is the quote or evidence you present important? Explain?

Paragraph 3:

What is the author missing?

What other views that could have been discussed?

Is the author’s argument bias?

Provide an alternative viewpoint and scholarship.

Paragraph 4:

What do you conclude from the author’s argument?

What are some new ideas or directions that the author can follow or develop?

What community or communities’ best served with this scholarship?

5-step process to paragraph development
Step 1. Decide on a controlling idea and create a topic sentence

Step 2. Explain the controlling idea

Step 3. Give an example (or multiple examples)

Step 4. Explain the example(s)

Step 5. Complete the paragraph's idea or transition into the next paragraph

Slaves of the State

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

Slaves of the State Black Incarceration from the Chain Gang to the Penitentiary

Dennis Childs

University of Minnesota Press Minneapolis

London

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

Chapter 1 was previously published as “‘You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet’: Beloved, the American Chain Gang, and the Middle Passage Remix,” American Quarterly 61, no. 2 (June 2009): 271–97; reprinted with permission of American Quarterly.

Portions of chapter 3 were previously published as “Angola, Convict Leasing, and the Annulment of Freedom,” in Violence and the Body: Race, Gender, and the State, ed. Arturo Aldama (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003); reprinted by permission of Indiana University Press.

Copyright 2015 by the Regents of the University of Minnesota

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published by the University of Minnesota Press 111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290 Minneapolis, MN 55401-2520 http://www.upress.umn.edu

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Childs, Dennis. Slaves of the state : black incarceration from the chain gang to the penitentiary / Dennis Childs. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4529-4364-0 1. African American prisoners—History. 2. Slavery—United States—History. 3. Discrimination in criminal justice administration—United States. 4. United States—Race relations. I. Title. HV9471.C473 2015 365 .́608996073—dc23 2014019929

The University of Minnesota is an equal-opportunity educator and employer.

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

http://www.upress.umn.edu
For Saranella and Kahlil, and all prison slaves past and present

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

Contents Introduction. “Inhuman Punishment”: The (Un)dead Book of Chattel Carcerality

1. “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet”: Beloved and the Middle Passage Carceral Model

2. “Except as Punishment for a Crime”: The Thirteenth Amendment and the Rebirth of Chattel Imprisonment

3. Angola Penitentiary: The Once and Future Slave Plantation

4. The Warfare of Northern Neoslavery in Chester Himes’s Yesterday Will Make You Cry Acknowledgments

Notes

Index

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

Introduction “Inhuman Punishment”

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

The (Un)dead Book of Chattel Carcerality

Slavery and freedom They is mostly the same

No difference hardly Except in the name.

—Georgia chain-gang song (c. early 1900s)

The administrators have stripped us of all but the bare necessities and are now taking those also. The beating and rapes don’t help matters either. The male guards treat us as if we were chattel.

—Elizabeth B., Revolutionary Prisoners Speak (1999)

THIS BOOK REPRESENTS MY ATTEMPT at answering a call I first heard many years ago as a graduate student living in Oakland, California—one emitting from an article by Angela Davis entitled “Racialized Punishment and Prison Abolition.” The radical, counter-historical directive I received from this piece is crystallized most succinctly at a moment in which Davis distinguishes her neo-abolitionist encounter with the U.S. carceral state from that of Michel Foucault on the basis of the culturally and legally crafted “soulless” character of the captive “Negro”:

If, as Foucault suggests, the locus of the new European mode of punishment shifted from the body to the soul, black slaves in the US were largely perceived as lacking a soul that might be shaped and transformed by punishment. Within the institution of slavery, itself a form of incarceration, racialized forms of punishment developed alongside the emergence of the prison system within and as a negative affirmation of the “free world.” . . . As white men acquired the privilege to be punished in ways that acknowledged their equality and the racialized universality of liberty, the punishment of black slaves was corporeal, concrete and particular.1

Within the institution of slavery, itself a form of incarceration. I had read my Foucault before encountering this hugely significant yet largely unengaged black radical epistemic phrase; before reading Soledad Brother; before reading Assata Shakur’s autobiography; before I finally recognized that Toni Morrison’s Beloved is not solely concerned with pre-1865 formations of chattel slavery; before my initial conversation with Robert Hillary King of the “Angola 3” following his hard-won release from nearly thirty years of solitary confinement; before hearing the spectral neoslave soundings of Odea Mathews and Robert Pete Williams; before being summoned to a national white supremacist tourist site situated at the threshold of a fully operational eighteen-thousand- acre slave plantation by one of its historically anonymous and unceremoniously buried black captives. While Foucault barely makes mention of slavery in his compelling history of the modern prison, the writings, soundings, and survival practices of Davis and countless other black prisoners and former prisoners define chattel slavery as a primordial and tenaciously undead carceral regime of Euro-American modernity—as the legal, political, architectural, and cultural linchpin of racial capitalist misogynist imprisonment in the United States as it has morphed from the slave-ship holds and barracoons of the Middle Passage, to the portable boxcar cages of early Jim Crow apartheid, to the coffin-simulating boxcar cells of today’s prison–industrial complex (PIC).2 Indeed, when read as one overarching, cross-fertilizing, and temporally unfixed network of racial and spatial terror, the U.S. system of mass imprisonment represents a centuries-old regime of chattelized prison–industrial genocide that began well before the term PIC was ever uttered—a liberal white supremacist misogynist “shit-stem,” as Peter Tosh might have dubbed it, that has submitted an as yet uncalculated (nor completed) number of black people and other racially and criminally stigmatized groups to collectivized natal alienation, excremental internment, (un)productive forced labor, serialized corporeal rupture, legally unredressable sexual violence, coerced performance, and manifold forms of death, ranging from the social, to the civil, to the biological.3

Notwithstanding the tendency within U.S. juridical, legislative, and penal law to disavow the chattel origins of modern incarceration, there have been key moments in which postbellum liberal legal discourse has offered boldface articulation of the state’s enslaving and murderous bearing toward criminally and racially stigmatized bodies. In Ruffin v. Commonwealth (1871), Justice J. Christian supplies just this sort of open declaration of the law’s re-chattelizing functionality vis-à-vis former slaves in his ostensibly color-blind construction of the civilly dead nonposition of the criminally branded felon: “He has, as a consequence of his crime, not only forfeited his liberty, but all his personal rights except those which the law in its humanity accords to him. He is for the time being the slave of the State. He is civiliter mortuus [civilly dead]; and his estate, if he has any, is administered like that of a dead man.”4 What would the law’s incantatory proclamation of penal enslavement in respect to all criminally branded subjects mean for those beings who had been defined as metaphysically incorrigible, legally fungible, and socially disposable for generations before 1871? As suggested in Davis’s discussion of the racialized dimensions of chattel imprisonment, the abject status of civil death would be taken to its zero degree as postbellum white supremacist law set its sights on those putatively soulless subjects whose slavery and social death rested at the very foundation of free/white social, civil, and cultural life in the United States since its inception as a genocidal colony of the British Empire. Far from representing a juridical anomaly or an anachronistic throwback to the feudal origins of Euro-American common law, Ruffin constituted an all-too-accurate racial gothic omen of the ******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

terroristic trajectories of modern imprisonment as it has been waged against former slaves and putatively “free” black people— from convict leasing, to chain gangs, to peonage camps, to the prison plantation, to the penitentiary. In attempting to offer an aperture of necromantic address for the (living) dead of U.S. neoslavery, however, this book considers what amounts to a collectively issued refutation of the organizing fascist logic within J. Christian’s matter-of-fact pronouncement of the civilly dead status of the prison slave; that is, what the spectral voices, testimonies, and survival practices of black prisoners make clear is that racialized prison slavery has had little to do with the alleged criminal acts of individual black people and everything to do with the socially constructed crime of being born black (or Indigenous or brown or poor) in apartheid “America.”5

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

The Temporal Boxes of Neoslavery If, as Saidiya Hartman suggests, “the grand narrative of Emancipation continues to hold sway over our imagination,” notwithstanding the forms of chattelized legal and extralegal terror that proliferated in freedom’s wake, then the writings, testimonies, soundings, and lifeways of black neoslaves from 1865 to the present offer a nearly inexhaustible, if largely unheeded, set of ghostly demystifications of that time-honored master narrative.6 I want to be clear here that when I use the term ghostly I am not speaking metaphorically. My use of the term is in keeping with Avery Gordon’s pivotally important assertion that, in the name of social and historical justice for the perilously alive and the desecrated dead, we must attempt to offer gracious, hospitable, and attentive listening to the countless material revenants that have accumulated under the long-standing criminal reign of racial capitalist misogyny.7 This book calls our attention to how the law’s gothic transmutation of living, nominally rights-bearing, human beings into “slaves of the state” has produced an unaccounted-for excess in the form of a subterranean poetics, politics, and epistemics of the living dead—an unquietly buried assemblage of black neoslave sound and theory (and legally disappeared bodies) that constitutes a haunting unhistorical counter to the well-entrenched U.S. national fable of slavery’s nineteenth-century demise.8

In a piece entitled “Teetering on the Brink: Between Death and Life,” the black radical political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal offers just this sort of spectral disenchantment of the fictive slavery/freedom borderline. He does so by outlining the degree to which collectivized natal alienation—one of the foundational elements of world-historical slavery and social death that is performed through the slave’s systematic severance from loved ones—insinuated itself into the late twentieth century for himself and others whom he describes as being “entombed in a juridical, psychic, and temporal box.” He expresses how this chattelizing technique resurfaced through the state’s proscription of familial touch for those it has branded as condemned felons:

The ultimate effect of noncontact visits is to weaken, and finally to sever, family ties. Through this policy and practice the state skillfully and intentionally denies those it condemns a fundamental element and expression of humanity—that of touch and physical contact—and slowly erodes family ties already made tenuous by the distance between home and the prison. Thus prisoners are as isolated psychologically as they are temporally and spatially. By state action, they become “dead” to those who know and love them, and therefore dead to themselves.9

From the abject legal position of being cargoed within a juridical, psychic, and temporal box situated inside Pennsylvania’s death row, the imprisoned black radical intellectual theorizes neoslavery as a ritualized predicament of living death wrought through the mutually constitutive state-terror modalities of temporal dislocation, structural dehumanization, and collectivized natal alienation. In this sense, the cellular zone of living burial, state-murder preparation, and familial rupture that Abu-Jamal describes as the “temporal box” enacts both a time/body freeze—with the death-simulating routine of imprisonment initiating a virtual stoppage of time—and a time/body warp, wherein the civil death of penal entombment performs horrifying repetition of the social death of chattel enslavement.10 Here we see how Abu-Jamal’s theoretical voice, like those of other incarcerated black radicals such as Angela Davis, Assata Shakur, Sundiata Acoli, George Jackson, and Herman Wallace, calls upon us to recognize the fact that the birthplace of epistemic articulations of and against neoslavery has not been the liberal bourgeois academy (an institution centrally implicated in the cross-generational mass production and consumption of criminally racialized human beings), but the space of neoslavery itself. As Joy James asserts in her groundbreaking work on (anti)prison radicalism, the neoslave narrative, and the theoretical component of what she describes as “captive insurgent abolitionism,” the term “‘public intellectual’ encompasses the oft- forgotten ‘prison intellectual’. Like his or her visible counterparts, the imprisoned intellectual reflects upon social meaning, ethics and justice; only s/he does so in detention centres and prisons which function as intellectual and political sites unauthorised by the state.”11

However, if incarcerated and formerly imprisoned black radicals such as Abu-Jamal, Shakur, Acoli, Davis, Jackson, and Wallace represent rela-tively submerged voices of black intellectualism and neo-abolitionism, then what terms do we have at our disposal to describe the sonic, written, performative, and resistive practices of the countless historically anonymous black neoslaves who were subjected to chattelism’s post-1865 return for generations before the advent of the 1960s and 1970s Movement era; who have un- Google-able names such as Harriet Purdy, Gassaway Price, John McElroy, James Bruce, and Aubert LaCarlton Collins; whose stories cannot be traced by way of book barcodes or ISBN numbers; and whose terrorized lives and unceremonious deaths have rarely been categorized as “political,” “radical,” or “intellectual”? Was something like a theory of “neoslavery” produced long before George Jackson coined and theorized the term while being held deep within the bowels of what he described as one of California’s land-based slave ships? In what ways was the neo-abolitionist impulse that we rightly associate with black, Indigenous, Latina/o, and other allied radical formations of the Movement era prefigured in the cultures and politics of those subjected to the original systems of U.S. neoslavery such as the chain gang, the convict lease camp, the prison plantation, and the publically cultivated brands of privatized neochattelism known as peonage and criminal surety? What do the unrequited dead of prison slavery’s past have to tell us about our current moment of prison–industrial genocide, namely, since every one of the more than 2.3 million human beings currently entombed under today’s PIC (both domestically and globally) represents nothing if not a renewed

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

desecration of the unnamable, unheralded, and unromanticizable casualties of earlier formations of neoslavery? Here I am suggesting the possibility that if indeed the dead have yet to be saved from the defiling repetition of the ravages of the past within our current moment, then the perilous present is also unclear of the re-membering and wailing, and presence(s) of those whose remains lie buried within the unmarked graves of a prison plantation sugarcane field and the sepulcher-like temporal boxes of the master archive.12

One such incompletely interred voice of early neoslavery still calls out from among a mountain-sized pile of boxes collected and filed away by the U.S. Department of Justice in respect to its investigation of peonage cases from 1901 to 1945—black apparitional testimony from Laronia, Georgia, in the form of a letter addressed to President Theodore Roosevelt, in October 1903:

Mr. President,

Dear Sir:

I write you this letter to inform you that my husband (Jackson Morrison, col’d) is being made to serve an unlawful term at Col. James M. Smith’s camp at Smithonia, Ga., in Oglethorpe county,

Events of the case: (1) He was sentenced at Carnsville, Ga. to the [chain] Gang for 12 months from Sept. 27th, 1901, or pay a fine of $100.00. (2) He was bought out by a Mr. Mose Jordan of Corner, Ga. to whom he gave 8 months which made 20 months. (3) Mr. Jordan, after working Morrison only two months sold him to Col. James M. Smith, on Nov. 30th, 1901. (4) Col. Smith agreed to liberate Morrison on the 30th day of May 1903. (5) Col. Smith also induced me to work by saying that if I labored on his farm he would pay me for my work, or else he would allow it to be

credited to my husband sents. in order to shorten his term, but he did not do either. I worked for 18 months hard labor and he (Col. Smith) did not pay me anything neither did credit any of my time to . . . that of my husband.

(6) I went to Col. Cmith’s Camp on Nov. 30th, 1901, and stayed there till July 7th 1903, and worked all the time and when I left he took all of my household possessions.

(7) My husband, Jackson Morrison’s time expired on May 30th 1903, but Smith would not turn him free. He, (Morrison) worked on till July 7th on which day he left the camp.

(8) On Sept. 11, 1903 he, Morrison, was captured by Smith’s sheriff and carried back to the camp and then lodged in the Lexington jail in Oglethorpe county.

(9) Col. Smith inflicts inhuman punishment on the person of his convicts, and whips them unmercifully. (10) Mr. President, I appeal to you, as the Executive Head of our Nation to please do something for my husband. Will you please cause an

investigation of that Camp to be made in the future, and while doing so it will be found that there are numbers of persons (both men and women) serving as slaves there for many months and days after their terms have expired. I have one child 3 years old and am in great need of my husband’s assistance.

I have the honor to be, Sir,

Your obedient Servant, Mentha Morrison, Col’d13

We will never know whether Mentha Morrison and her three-year-old child ever saw Jackson Morrison again. We will also never know the full breadth of unspeakable terror that is made to fall under the sign of “inhuman punishment” in section 9 of Mentha’s ten- point appeal to the president of the United States to “do something” about her husband’s (and her own) enslavement. What we do know is that besides what she describes as the modern reintroduction of the antebellum punitive measure of the plantation whip, neoslaves were routinely subjected to rape; “long-chaining,” boxcar and stockade “tight-packing;” “can’t to can’t see” labor and terror in the house, field, or mine; coffling over great distances; bloodhound maulings; outright murder; and coerced musical and theatrical performance. What we also know is that—similar to the overwhelming majority of cases in which black subjects attempted to make substantive use of late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century legal proscriptions of (fictive) debt peonage— executive, legislative, and juridical arenas of U.S. liberal white supremacist law ultimately did absolutely nothing to redress the grievances of Mentha Morrison, her husband, and their newly fatherless child. In fact, as noted above in reference to Ruffin, these branches of U.S. national law and governance are centrally implicated in each of the horrifying regimes of public and private neoslavery that occurred at places such as James Smith’s twenty-thousand-acre industrialized neoslave plantation (otherwise known as “Smithonia”), the “Gang” that Jackson Morrison was able to avoid only by being converted into fungible courthouse chattel, and the jail in which he was held after attempting to escape from the neoplantation. Indeed, as I discuss in chapter 2, the very document that signaled the de jure liberation of African slaves some thirty-six years before Jackson Morrison’s arrest and courtroom “sale” in 1901—the Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution—actually served as the sine qua non of his penal enslavement and that of untold numbers of other putatively “free” black people. As Mentha Morrison’s gripping entreaty makes clear, the slavery or involuntary servitude as punishment for a crime exception within the “Emancipation Amendment” allowed courthouses of Jim Crow apartheid to function as virtual auction blocks in which criminally branded black people were either disappeared to the public profiteering venues of the chain gang, the levee camp, and the state prison plantation, or in which, like Jackson Morrison, they were submitted to the designs of enterprising white planters and industrialists who could literally purchase, lease, or sublease the bodies of black men, women, and children through the publically brokered “private” machinations of convict leasing, peonage, the “fine/fee system,” and criminal surety.

The postbellum experience of racialized criminal sanction that the Morrisons endured, as well as an untabulatable number of

******ebook converter DEMO Watermarks*******

other black people, speaks to the routinized manner by which white supremacist juridical, statutory, and penal law conjured the nominally free black civil subject into a criminalized, natally alienated, and fungible commodity.14 Indeed, notwithstanding the other horrifying aspects of Mentha Morrison’s testimony, one is struck by the utterly banal nature of her gestures toward the arrest, conviction, courthouse sale, and private subleasing of her husband’s “col’d” body/flesh as would-be chain-gang prisoner and fictively indebted peon. How does the rather matter-of-fact nature of her “rememory” of her husband being arrested, sentenced to the chain gang, only to be “bought” and “sold” to a prison plantation as a piece of criminally branded merchandise alter our understanding of the living history of southern neoslavery?15 If the Thirteenth Amendment was the primary legal weapon of black neoslavery, then what were the ideologically determining factors that allowed for the profits and pleasures associated with the auctioning, leasing, and subleasing of black bodies in the courthouse, the plantation field, and the coal mine in the age of emancipation?

Studies of the southern postbellum turn to “convict labor” have often explained the unprecedented demographic shift in the South’s official spaces of incarceration that occurred after the Civil War—with the number of officially imprisoned black people increasing from less than one percent before 1861 to as much as 90 percent in certain counties and states after 1865—in terms of political economy. According to this line of analysis, the move to prison slavery fulfilled the need for the recuperation of a formerly enslaved labor force and the restoration and modernization of a war-torn and “backward” southern economy.16 The ultimate message of this interpretive framework has been: if racism was an important immediate/local factor in the new southern prison system, then the national and global macroeconomic factors of capitalist profit and industrial modernization were its determinant historical forces. However, Morrison’s unhistorical account of the courthouse auctioning of her husband calls upon us to recognize that the corporeal economies of white supremacy and black fungibility represented fundamental conditions of possibility for the formations of terror, subjection, and genocidal domination that black people have endured under convict leasing, the chain gang, the prison plantation, fictive-debt peonage, and the penitentiary. To invoke Sylvia Wynter, the liberal white supremacist cultural manufacture of blackness as metaphysical affliction was the social and philosophical edifice upon which southern capitalist neoslavery was built and the ideological driving force behind the routinized disappearance and reenslavement of nominally “free” black civil subjects.17 Mentha Morrison’s testimony illustrates how the inhuman quality of postbellum punishment was a product of the nationally projected ontological mythos of the “Negro” or “Nigger” as incorrigible and inhuman being—a fatal, material, and socially determining fable that had been forged at law and custom for hundreds of years before her hus-band’s courthouse auctioning.18 Finally, the fact that Jackson Morrison’s criminally branded and sold body ended up being coffled to a geography of racial internment that had been in operation since well before the Civil War underlines how the supposed historical shift in penal demography that occurred after 1865 was not really so much of a shift at all—that Africans had faced mass inhuman punishment and industrialized plantation imprisonment on grounds such as Smithonia, Parchman (Mississippi), and “Angola” (Louisiana) for generations before the openly declared turn to “Negro convict labor.”

Given her all-too-acute lived understanding of the ways in which the U.S. system of inhuman punishment did indeed amount to a predicament of de jure reenslavement for her own family and others within her circle, we can imagine that Mentha Morrison knew full well that there was little chance that a single “Col’d” woman’s missive to one of the most powerful white men on the planet would yield anything more than it did. However, it is our recognition of her likely understanding of the very impossibility of her task of calling on national white supremacist law to free her husband from local white supremacist law that underlines the haunting future-orientation of the neo-abolitionist appeal that can still be heard emitting from her letter well over a century after its composition. A strident black apparitional demand on the neoslavery present from deep within the neoslavery past can be heard most clearly in section 10—Will you please cause an investigation of that Camp to be made in the future, and while doing so it will be found that there are numbers of persons (both men and women) serving as slaves there. If Morrison’s appeal can be taken as less of a dead letter than an undead indictment of a past that has never perished, of a living History that continues to see massive numbers of persons (both men and women [and gender-nonconforming people]) serving as slaves in modern living death camps such as those that currently entomb one out of every nine black men in the United States between the ages of twenty and thirty-four19 —or the scores of immigrant detention camps that now line “America’s” hypermilitarized and imperially erected border with Mexico—then it forces us to understand that formations of the degree to which formations of chattelized imprisonment such as Smithonia (Georgia), Cummins (Arkansas), Banner Mine (Alabama), Parchman (Mississippi), and Angola (Louisiana) are not anachronistic figments of southern white supremacist exceptionalism or premodern anachronism, but legal, methodological, and cultural foundations of the current U.S. mass production, consumption, and inhuman punishment of incarcerated black, Indigenous, brown, poor, and Muslim bodies.

Here I want to clarify that my engagement with the neo-abolitionist demand of those such as Morrison, Abu-Jamal, and Davis for us to recognize the vicious continuities of racialized incarceration as it has reached across the well-entrenched boundaries of liberal bourgeois historical periodization is not an argument for a flattening or eliding of political, experiential, or social difference between the past and present of U.S. racial genocide. Rather, the apparitional voices of slaves of the state demand that we pay serious attention to the ways in which the chattel principle has infused the sociality of black freedom from the moment of its de jure birth.20 Again, in the spirit of purposeful repetition, the inseparability of freedom and reenslavement is analogized most audaciously within the Janus-headed language of the very legal document that is advertised as the genesis of black civil personhood and the