Monday, February 18, 2008

When in the course of human events

This is a story of bloodlines, of inevitability, and of atoning for the sins of my many-greats-grandfather.

My great aunt joined the Daughters of the American Revolution when I was a kid. She did the genealogical research to prove that she was, in fact, directly descended from an "individual who aided in achieving American independence." She discovered that we came not only from Revolutionary stock, but that we had a Signer of the Declaration of Independence in the family. William Whipple, one of the itty bitty names on that grand document was my many, many greats grandfather.

It was sort of a big deal in my family, a big enough deal that we discussed it. When my brother and dad went to the National Archives, they made sure to find his name. I bragged about it in eighth grade civics class. Occasionally I'd remember William Whipple and wonder about him. Who was he? Why was he chosen to be the representative from New Hampshire? And, most of all, did he realize what he was doing when he wrote his name down on that sheet of parchment? Did he know the significance of it? Presumably he must have, but his is not a flourish like Hancock's. It's sandwiched between two much more famous signatures: Josiah Bartlett (yes, of West Wing fame) and Sam Adams (of beer fame). Whipple signed in the far right column and didn't even bother to sign his full name, he abbreviated William to Wm. Granted, that was common back then, but still! This is the most important signature Mr. Whipple would ever sign in his entire life! It can't be that much more effort to add the extra letters.

I looked him up on Wikipedia, from time to time, and every time I was in awe of his accomplishments. Not only was he a Signer, he was a Ship's Master by age 23. Life moved faster in those days, but I'll be lucky if I'm employed by age 23. And he was a Ship's Master. That's kind of like being a combination manager/pirate. He apparently married his first cousin, but hey, that wasn't so uncommon back then, right?

Although I never really researched who he was, I felt a sort of connection to Whipple. Here, in my family's history, was someone who was instrumental in the founding of this country I love so much. He wasn't that important, not a Jefferson or Washington or even a Caesar Rodney, but he was there. He saw them work. He may have debated a bit with Jefferson over the exact wording of something. He was there.

When I went to New Hampshire this autumn, I thought more about Whipple than I had in a very long time. After all, I was going to work on a political campaign in his old stomping grounds. In my somewhat sleep-deprived and over-tired state, I could imagine was fulfilling some sort of romantic ideal or obligation to my bloodline.

Hey, I decided one day, I should find out if Grandpa Whipple is buried around here. After all, I was in New Hampshire, if he was near, I should take the opportunity to find out a little more about him.

I looked him up on a website called findagrave.com. You can type in the name of the somewhat famous person whose grave you seek, and the website will tell you where that grave is located, as well as give you a concise biography. I found out Great-Grandpa William is buried in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. But then I also saw this:
"...he went to sea in his teens, and by the time he was 21, he was Captain of his own ship. Whipple would sail to many ports in Europe, Africa, and the West Indies, making a good living transporting slaves, sugar and rum in what became known as the Triangle Trade."


And there it was.

My several times great-grandfather was a slave trader.

He had written his name down on a piece of paper that professed the greatest ideals of the individual rights of man and freedom from oppression the New World had ever seen. He signed it! HE held these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal!

America has long had to deal with this history of slavery. As a nation, we have tried to come to terms with the fact that many white Americans had enslaved, mistreated, and murdered black Americans on a very large scale. It almost tore our nation to shreds. It lead to a terrible war with unbelievable casualties on both sides. As a people, we have had to face the reality of that past. And we have had to consider our national heroes as flawed, as men who participated in this horror. They owned slaves-- they professed to have hold of the body, mind, and soul of another human being. In some cases, dozens of human beings.

Knowing that, understanding that, even studying that I had never faced that dilemma on an individual level. Even though some branches of my family have been in this country for a while, we've always been Northerners. And we moved West. As far as I knew, we had never been intensely involved in the issue of slavery. A naive view, to be sure, but when I bothered to think of it at all, that's what I figured. My family had just... not been involved.

But then I was confronted with this. Mr. Whipple, the man I had found such a connection with was the worst kind of master-- he captained a slave ship. He and his crew kidnapped people, abducted them from their homes, and forced them on a journey that was no less than torturous. How many people had my great grandfather killed? How many souls did he throw overboard? Most of what happened on those journeys across the sea is almost unspeakable. The complete degradation of another human soul as conducted by a man who later went on to sign a document espousing the grand ideas of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness-- the irony is almost too much to bear.

But wait, it gets better.

I was in New Hampshire volunteering for the campaign of a son of an African immigrant. My candidate is black, and although he does not come from a direct ancestry of slavery, I'm fairly sure that if we went far enough back-- say, back to the 1730s-- somebody in his family tree was affected by slavery. Nobody without extensive genealogy records would know for certain, but still. I'm not only fulfilling Grandpa William's legacy by working in national politics in New Hampshire. I'm proving something else entirely by working to elect a black man.

That's when the race got a little more personal for me. I was not only working to elect a man I thought would make the best president, I was working to prove that I am better than Mr. Whipple. Maybe if I could help elect this man, my family's debt to society would somehow be closer to being paid. Maybe.

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