That Old Dixie Flag

Donna Dufresne

            I love the Quiet Corner of Connecticut – the soft, rolling hills dotted with farms, the little villages accented by white steeples and general stores, the pockets of a rural past. In fact, when I first came to this part of the state, I immediately felt at home. I befriended a series of old Yankees and reveled in the vernacular of their stories, the cadence of my childhood. And the dirt road which funnels me to my home reminds me of the small farm where I grew up in Massachusetts. Who wouldn’t want to live in such a verdant haven wrapped in class B rivers and streams (just about as clean as you can get aside from a little giardia here and there).  Who wouldn’t want to raise their children in such a place, where they can roam freely without fear of violence, take a dip in a farm-dug pond, or ride a pony in the State forest for hours? On the surface, this place on Earth is pristine and welcoming. If you are white.

Like the hills and valleys of my rural childhood, Northeast Connecticut holds onto a hidden past which lays dormant for a while. But then it raises its ugly head, coming out of dormancy like one of those odiferous flowers which blooms only every decade or so. And it stinks. Although I don’t recall overt symbols of racism in my family and the small town I grew up in, I’m sure they were present. Adults were careful not to say things, most of the time. But there were rumors that the Grange Hall had put on more than one minstrel show, in blackface – probably before I was born. And those shows were always written and directed by my beloved surrogate grandmother, Edith Whittier, whose husband owned the farm where my parents rented a hired hand’s house. Born in the 1880’s, they were truly 19^th century people with 19^th century sentiments.

During the Civil Rights movement, we saw terrible things on T.V., and I heard terrible things being said by the older folk. Things like “Send them back to Africa” as if we were still stuck in a pre-civil war colonization society. There was tension in the air. The people I knew were baffled and harbored resentment, as if the advancement of African Americans would somehow push them to the bottom of the pile. It was not unlike the reaction many whites have to Black Lives Matter, when they retort things like “all lives matter”, or “blue lives matter”, as if they didn’t already. Clearly, they have no sense that we are in this together, bumping up against the same machine.

We saw and heard about crosses burning and men in white hoods through movies and T.V., but we didn’t see them in our neighborhood. The KKK had made an appearance in in many small New England towns in the 1920’s, during one of the many America First revivals. But then, presumably, the robes were packed away in the attic (except in a few notorious towns in Connecticut). And, as usual, Northerners were more than willing to lay the burden of racism at the feet of Southerners. After all, they were the ones who defended slavery to the very end. From Jim Crow to segregation and the burning crosses strategically placed on the lawns of those who dared march for civil rights, racism seemed like it was a Southern problem. It just wasn’t noticeable in our own back yards. That is until the confederate flag made its appearance after the 2016 elections.

Make no mistake. Racism is very well embedded in the cultural, economic and institutional structure of the North.  We may not have been flaunting the iconic symbols of hate and terrorism such as burning crosses, but structural racism such as segregation through red-lining real estate, inadequate public schools, and financial inequities have been entrenched since the industrial revolution. Remember, the wealth and power in the North has strong roots in slavery and the cotton industry.  Northerners talked a good game when it came to anti-slavery sentiment, but they had no interest in helping to facilitate integration and racial equity. Still it has been surprising and unsettling in the past two years to see the confederate flag emerge in our quiet little towns and rural neighborhoods. The teacher in me wants to presume that these are good people who simply don’t know the history of the confederate flag and how it evolved from a symbol of heritage and remembrance (as the Sons of Confederate Veterans would like us to believe), into a symbol of hate, terrorism, and racism.

If Robert E. Lee’s soldiers did indeed furl their flags as he instructed them to do, and try to put the war behind them, why is it some folks continue to hold onto this relic of the past and defiantly flaunt it? Although the Sons of Confederate Veterans continue to fight for the right to display the confederate flag in certain State Capitols, it has long outlived its place in valor and pride. In fact, the current trend toward raising the confederate battle flag didn’t emerge until the mid- 20^th century. First in defiance by Southern Democrats toward their northern counterparts, the flag was later adopted by the KKK and other white supremacy groups in reaction to the civil rights movement. Once the symbol of “heritage”, its darker side has continued to emerge during each step toward racial justice until its final evolution as a symbol of hate. Every step forward in the “long arc toward justice”, that old flag has emerged as a symbol of racism.  It was flaunted by the KKK in the Jim Crow era in the South. It was displayed after Brown v Board of Education and desegregation laws were passed, heralded by angry mobs who taunted African American children as they were integrating schools. I’m sure it festered in that unfortunate cesspool of hate so many white Americans harbored when Barack Obama was elected. Almost like a sinister Jack-in-the-box, it pops up after small victories in the march toward equity and justice i.e. affirmative action, fair housing, Black Lives Matter…

It’s no surprise that the confederate flag has crawled out of the woodwork even in our Quiet Corner of the state.  After all, racists, white supremacists and even the old KKK have been emboldened by the current lack of leadership in the White House when it comes to calling out groups such as the Neo-Nazis who marched in Charlottesville. But we would be mistaken to assume that Mr. Trump is completely to blame. Northern racism may have lain dormant for a while, but it doesn’t take much for it to rear its ugly head. All it takes is a wink, a nod and a tweet for that yellow light to turn green. And if you have accidently found yourself in the company of those who have joined the crowds of white men who think it’s cool, or some God-given Constitutional right to be flaunting the confederate flag around town, here is the hard truth you should know: The confederate flag is no longer the quaint relic of the Old Dixie South. It has become an identity badge for a defiant populace who just can’t get with the times and accept that justice and equity will prevail. If you are flaunting the flag on your flagpole, porch, or truck, you might as well put up a big sign that says “Yep, I’m a racist, and proud of it.” For a century, it has been a symbol that stands for white supremacy, racism and hate. It is the tool of terrorism.

Some of you will argue that flying the confederate flag is a constitutional right. But just as we should not tolerate hate speech, we should not condone the symbols of hate. Germany does not allow the Nazi flag or swastikas, and most of us would be uncomfortable if Isis flag appeared on pick-up trucks and public buildings.  I’m sure there are still a few pockets in the South, where the confederate flag stands for heritage and remembrance, but let’s face it, that flag has been tainted by a century of racism, terrorism, and the defiance of civil rights. It has an even more sinister meaning when flaunted by Northerners who haven’t the remotest historical connection to the flag. Furl your flags boys and put your racism back in the closet. ception Lo