Transcript
DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I’m David Bianculli. In 2017, the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee in New Orleans sparked Clint Smith’s deep interest in how slavery is remembered and confronted. Being from New Orleans, Smith was surrounded by reminders of the Confederacy, with numerous streets, statues, parks, and schools named after Confederate figures and slaveholders.
Smith’s exploration led to his nonfiction book, “How The Word Is Passed: A Reckoning With The History Of Slavery Across America.” This work received the National Book Critics Circle Award for nonfiction, topped the New York Times Best Seller list, and was named one of the New York Times Book Review’s 10 Best Books of 2021. In his research, Smith visited eight key locations to unravel the misconceptions in the teaching of slavery’s history, revealing how many Americans mislead themselves about this past.
With a Ph.D. in education from Harvard, Smith is also a poet and a staff writer for The Atlantic. His poetry book, “Counting Descent,” was honored with the 2017 Literary Award for Best Poetry Book from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association. In 2023, he released another poetry collection titled “Above Ground.” Smith is also a former National Poetry Slam champion. We now turn to his 2021 conversation with Terry Gross, prefaced by a poem about his New Orleans upbringing.
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CLINT SMITH: (Reading) Growing up, the iconography of the Confederacy was a constant presence. Each day, I passed a statue of P.G.T. Beauregard on horseback, cloaked in his Confederate attire, with his cap shielding his eyes.
As a child, I didn’t know who P.G.T. Beauregard was. I didn’t know he initiated the first attack of the Civil War, helped design the Confederate flag, or led an army committed to upholding slavery. I only knew he resembled the countless other statues decorating the city’s periphery—copper relics of a past that favored burying the truth in silence.
After the Civil War, the Confederacy’s descendants reframed treason as an honorable cause, calling it the Lost Cause, which infiltrated textbooks to obscure ongoing injustices. We were told Robert E. Lee was merely loyal to his state and that the Southern flag was about heritage. But the Lost Cause isn’t lost if you’re looking. Heritage often means disregarding historical wrongs.
In school, I learned the Civil War wasn’t about slavery, but was never taught that Confederate secession was grounded in human bondage. I was taught it was about economic factors, not that, in 1860, enslaved Black people had more value than all banks, factories, and railroads combined. States’ rights were cited, yet the Fugitive Slave Act’s indifference to borders was ignored. It’s easy to call a flag heritage when you overlook the Black lives it conceals. It’s easy to call a statue history while ignoring the oppressive laws it inspired.
In my city, statues of white men stood high while Black children played below, where we played instruments to drown out Dixie tunes. New Orleans has over a hundred locations named for Confederates and slaveholders. Black children attend schools named after people who wished they weren’t there.
Every trip home, I drive on streets named for those who would have preferred me enslaved. Travel two miles on Robert E. Lee. Turn onto Jefferson Davis. Make a right on Claiborne. Translation: follow the general who killed surrendering Black soldiers. Turn onto the Confederacy’s president, who built a nation on Black suffering. Make a right on the one who displayed the heads of rebellious slaves as a warning.
What do you call this violence? What do you name roads that envision you hanging? What do you call roofs named for those who’d want walls to crush you?
BIANCULLI: That’s Clint Smith. Let’s listen to his 2021 discussion with Terry Gross about “How The Word Is Passed,” now available in paperback. The audio may differ in quality, as it was recorded during the pandemic when guests couldn’t visit the studio.
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SMITH: The inspiration for this book came from witnessing the removal of Confederate statues in New Orleans in May 2017. Statues of figures like Robert E. Lee, P.G.T. Beauregard, and Jefferson Davis, which had stood for over a century, were taken down, prompting me to reflect on growing up in a predominantly Black city with more tributes to enslavers than to the enslaved.
Going to school meant traveling along Robert E. Lee Boulevard, shopping required a trip down Jefferson Davis Highway, and field trips visited plantations without mentioning slavery. This led me to consider how these symbols and the narratives they represent influence public policy and, consequently, people’s lives.
My thoughts extended beyond New Orleans, contemplating how the history of slavery is told or neglected across the country and even overseas, shaping collective memory.
TERRY GROSS: What lessons did your education offer about Confederate figures and slaveholders whose names are prominent throughout New Orleans?
SMITH: Frankly, I learned very little. What I did learn painted Robert E. Lee as a noble man defending his state and people. The Civil War was framed as a matter of states’ rights and failed compromises, neglecting the real compromise: the freedom of enslaved individuals.
These narratives, ingrained from childhood, portrayed New Orleans as a hub of crime and violence, with implicit biases against its Black majority. I lacked the tools to challenge these distortions, often feeling paralyzed by the misinformation about my community and people who looked like me.
GROSS: Changing historical narratives is challenging, even when they are proven wrong. Yet, some places strive for honesty. You visited Monticello, Jefferson’s plantation, where the narrative is shifting. Could you elaborate?
SMITH: Monticello is a compelling example of adapting to new historical insights. A recent project there focuses on the Hemings family, including Sally Hemings, who was enslaved on the plantation. Sally, daughter of Elizabeth Hemings and John Wayles, was a quarter Black but remained enslaved due to racial constructs like the one-drop rule. Monticello now centers the lives of the enslaved, recognizing the plantation’s story extends beyond Jefferson.
GROSS: It’s intriguing that tour guides at Monticello prepare visitors for potentially uncomfortable truths, as many expect only a celebration of Jefferson. Did this surprise you?
SMITH: It did. The Slavery at Monticello Tour, led by David Thorson, presents Jefferson’s ties to slavery more directly than any educator I encountered. Observing two women, Donna and Grace, during the tour, I saw their shock at learning Jefferson owned slaves and that Monticello was a plantation. They were unaware, despite traveling extensively to visit the home of a Founding Father.
GROSS: Sally Hemings was just 16 when Jefferson, in his mid-40s, began a sexual relationship with her. What does this reveal?
SMITH: Monticello aims to complicate historical narratives, emphasizing that Sally Hemings’ relationship with Jefferson wasn’t consensual due to his ownership. This invites reflection on how Black women, during slavery, endured assaults and violations of bodily autonomy, a history yet fully confronted.
GROSS: Considering Jefferson’s role in drafting the Declaration of Independence, how do you reconcile his legacy?
SMITH: Jefferson embodies America’s contradictions, offering vast opportunities while simultaneously oppressing millions. He authored pivotal documents yet enslaved over 600 people, including his own children, and expressed racist views. Monticello helps convey a fuller understanding of Jefferson, aiding a comprehensive grasp of America’s complex history.
BIANCULLI: Clint Smith’s discussion with Terry Gross continues. Stay tuned for a review of “Lanterns,” the Green Lantern TV show. This is FRESH AIR.
This is FRESH AIR. I’m David Bianculli. We just heard Clint Smith’s reflections on how slavery’s history is often distorted in education. Now, let’s continue with another of his interviews with Terry Gross from 2023, discussing his poetry collection “Above Ground,” which explores the legacy of slavery and personal experiences of fatherhood and family.
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GROSS: Clint Smith, welcome back to FRESH AIR. It’s wonderful to have you again. Your book’s opening prose poem addresses the challenge of holding gratitude for life’s positives alongside fear and anger over its negatives. What were you trying to reconcile when writing this?
SMITH: It’s a joy to be back, Terry. Throughout recent years, I’ve contemplated the simultaneous nature of human experiences—how moments of awe and joy coexist with those of fear and despair. This collection examines such dualities, especially through the lens of parenthood, which reveals both pride and shame and oscillates between joy and exhaustion. I’m exploring this simultaneity on both personal and broader societal levels.
GROSS: Your ability to articulate these thoughts is impressive. Could you share “All At Once” with us?
SMITH: Of course. “All At Once.”
(Reading) The redwoods burn in California. A flood submerges a quiet coastal neighborhood. A child takes their first steps into a father’s arms. Love blossoms in New Orleans beneath an oak tree’s sorrowful branches. Seeds are sown in fresh soil. A glacier melts, and the sea encroaches. A soldier returns from war, meeting his son. A man falls victim to a drone mistaking water for a bomb. A friend relapses, avoiding calls. A son’s teacher reports his defense of a classmate.
(Reading) A country ends a civil war, while another begins elsewhere. A vaccine emerges, saving millions. A mother’s cancer returns, with no medical recourse. Morning brings a funeral, afternoon a wedding. The river providing water threatens to wash us away.
GROSS: Before delving into more poetry, let’s discuss your nonfiction book, “How The Word Is Passed,” which addresses the legacy of slavery and related monuments. Has it faced any bans?
SMITH: Book banning is complex. While I haven’t seen widespread bans of my book, I know of instances where it’s been excluded from school curricula due to controversy over critical race theory. For instance, a private school planned to use it as a common read, but later canceled the purchase and my visit after board-level objections.
GROSS: Let’s return to your poetry. Please read a piece about your grandparents’ experiences in the apartheid South and the miraculous birth of your first son.
SMITH: “By Chance.”
(Reading) If doctors deemed you impossible and you appeared, were they wrong, or did you defy science? How do we differentiate science from miracles? The night we brought you home, I watched you sleep, afraid you’d vanish if I closed my eyes.
(Reading) Your grandmother escaped war long ago, your great-grandfather fought in one. You come from luck. History shaped by chance. A land mine 2 feet away. Bread shared by children. A parachute that didn’t open, then did.
GROSS: Do you share with your children the struggles and resilience of your ancestors?
SMITH: Absolutely. It’s vital for them to understand their heritage, both from enslaved and colonized ancestors. My wife’s mother fled Nigeria during the Biafra War, later finding a new life in the U.S. These stories, shared appropriately, help our children grasp their family’s history and the larger contexts of colonialism and slavery.
BIANCULLI: Clint Smith’s conversation with Terry Gross continues. Stay with us for more insights. This is FRESH AIR.
This is FRESH AIR. Let’s rejoin Terry Gross and Clint Smith discussing his poetry book “Above Ground.”
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GROSS: Did you always envision fatherhood? What did you observe in parents around you as a young man?
SMITH: As a child, I imagined 30-year-olds as ancient. I always wanted to be a father, but fertility challenges made it feel distant at times. When my wife and I faced uncertainty around conceiving, having our children felt uncertain. I’m profoundly grateful for the two lives we brought into the world, given the difficulties we faced.
GROSS: Would you read a poem about meeting your wife and deciding to start a family despite fertility issues?
SMITH: “Counting Descent 2.” (Reading) My son arrived on the 71st day of spring on the hospital’s fifth floor in a city with a fiery history. Two grandmothers and four generations were present. My daughter was born nearby 21 months later. Both were induced early to avoid risks to their lives.
I met my wife two years, one month, and seven days before our first child, after relationships convinced me she was unique. We talked for hours at a distant table, revealing half-forgotten secrets. Two dates later, we kissed. After 17 months and three doctor visits, we sought a child despite a less than 1% chance. The doctors kept apologizing, saying they were sorry.
GROSS: Your poetry often employs numbers to recount personal history. Why do numbers hold such power for you?
SMITH: Inspired by Alan Michael Parker, my adviser at Davidson College, I view numbers as a unique way to document the past. Numbers lend specificity to moments, allowing poems to serve as time capsules that preserve feelings, events, and ideas, much like photographs do.
GROSS: There’s a poem about being at a pharmacy with your kids that seems particularly resonant. Please share “Gold Stars.”
SMITH: “Gold Stars.” (Reading) When I’m alone with my children, I’m hailed as a saint or the best father. At CVS, with my daughter on my chest and my son by my side, strangers stop, stare, and approach to shake my hand. Men pat my back. Women touch my shoulder.
In-store announcements praise me as an exemplary father. Applause erupts. I’m handed crowns and buffet coupons. A park visitor commends me for “babysitting” my own kids. Changing a diaper garners a “praise Jesus.” A driver calls me father of the year. Yet, these strangers know little of my true parenting. They see me, two kids, and a cracker-filled bag. I’m lauded for what my wife isn’t thanked for, adorned in gold stars simply for being.
GROSS: Your wife must appreciate that poem’s recognition of parental disparities.
SMITH: She does. We often discuss these experiences. As a Black woman, she faces distinct challenges in public perception of parenting roles. While it’s nice to commend parents, we must question why fathers receive praise for actions mothers undertake without acknowledgment. This discrepancy, rooted in racial and gender biases, deserves examination.
GROSS: Clint Smith, it’s been a pleasure hearing your reflections and poetry. Thank you for joining us.
SMITH: The pleasure is mine. Thank you for having me.
BIANCULLI: That was Clint Smith with Terry Gross in 2023. His works “How The Word Is Passed” and “Above Ground” are available in paperback. Next, John Powers reviews “Lanterns,” a TV series reviving the classic Green Lantern hero. This is FRESH AIR.
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