A Personal Journey: Why Some African-Americans Don't Vote

Article by Brother Askari

This is probably the most painful conversation I’ve written. Usually, I’m to adapt and adjust to whatever the subject is and go with it. Not this time. Let me explain.

Several weeks ago, a close friend asked me if I would be willing to share some of my personal thoughts and feelings about the lack of African-American participation in the voting process. I said yes, without thinking about what I was being asked to do or what impact it would have on me personally. What happened next is best described in a Negro Spiritual that says, “ I jumped in the water, the water was cold. It chilled my body and almost killed my soul.” As I started to write, an unexpected historical memory took control of my thoughts, producing familiar images of My African-American ancestors being physically brutalized, intimidated and murdered because they had made the mistake of believing what the fifteenth Amendment said: “ No citizen may be denied the right to vote because of race, color, or former enslavement.”

I was born and raised in the state of Louisiana. When I graduated from high school in 1964, I had never voted. I didn’t know and didn’t care to know where the voting booths were located. Family elders would always instruct us to stay away from such places. On election days, we were organized to gather in one place, so that every family member was aware of where all the other family members were. Then for the next seventy-two hours we would congregate wherever we were anonymously out of sight of any white person, friend or foe.

For my family, to vote or not to vote wasn’t the question. The REAL question was “ how long were we going to have to tolerate this type of treatment as second class citizens? Whenever we youngsters asked, the elders would always say:“not long …not long at all.”

To give you a little insight as to what was at stake here, you must understand that in 1896, the same year the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that government sponsored racial segregation was legal, my grandfather and other family elders laid claim to 640 prime acres of Louisiana farm land. By then members of the family had merged with the local Choctaw nation of Native Americans and this became the composition of our family tree. We became one family, one body, one mind, and one soul. However, to put it mildly the local whites did not welcome and embrace us.

To be an African was bad enough. To own land and be African was worse and, to add insult to injury, to be of both African and Native American descent was unforgivable. Thus in the 1920’s my grandfather was mortally shot and almost died for refusing to transfer to the KKK a large portion of the land. His brother was murdered and other family members were harassed well into the 1970’s.

In 1964, the 24th Amendment was ratified, abolishing the poll tax, which was used as a means of preventing African-Americans from voting. But in my neck of the woods it didn’t change anything. It was then that I knew I had to leave Louisiana.

It wasn’t fear that made me leave the state that I loved. No, I had grown tired of having to restrain myself in the face of constant hostilities. I had grown tired of taking the moral high ground. I had grown tired of being tired. I found out that I had been born tired.

When I set foot in my first northern city, I wasn’t prepared for its horrific environment. I knew poverty, but I didn’t know he had a brotha named Poor, who had a first cousin name Po. He was so po, the “o” and the “r” had fallen from his name.

During the day and nighttime, they would hook-up with disease, illness, injustice, police brutality…and go on a rampage through Afrikan American communities. When they came for me, I ran into the arms of the Black Panther Party. When I joined the Party, I was under the impression that most folk supported our cause. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now, I was confronted by demons with names like the FBI and local law enforcement.

In the end, and there was an ending, I, along with my fellow Panthers, suffered injustice and imprisonment. Many others died. That’s when I realized “this was just the same ol’ soup warmed over.” In other words, the North, for me, was worse than the South I had left.

In tribute to my family ancestors I must say this. They had no fear. I never knew them to cringe or soft-shoe or Uncle Tom. Yet, they conducted themselves in a peaceful and dignified manner. All they wanted was to be left alone. In the fall of 2003 I visited the land my grandfather so proudly defended. It’s still in our family, all 640 acres. However, there have been profound changes. My oldest sister recently ran for a political office in the small town of Franklinton, Louisiana and only lost by a few votes. In the village of Folsom, Louisiana the mayor is an African-American I went to high school with. The City of New Orleans has just elected another African-American mayor. And for the first time in Louisiana history the electorate voted in a woman as governor and even more astounding, she is of Cajun descent…now that’s some serious home cooking.

As I conclude this conversation I feel somewhat purified. My soul is on the mend. I can feel it going through the process of renewal. You know what? I just might go out and vote this year.

A Brief Summary of the Civil War Amendments to the Constitution:

Thirteenth Amendment, Ratified 1865: Slavery Ended Forever.
Slavery prohibited in the United States or any place governed by United States laws

Fourteenth Amendment, Ratified 1868; Blacks made citizens, with guaranteed equal rights.
All persons born or naturalized in the United States are citizens of the United States. All persons are guaranteed equal rights under the law. Leaders of the former Confederacy are forbidden to hold state or federal office unless given permission by a two-thirds vote of congress.

Fifteenth Amendment, Ratified 1870: Blacks Guaranteed Right to Vote.
No citizen may be denied the right to vote because of race, color or former enslavement.

This article originally appeared in the Summer 2004 issue of Justice Matters.