Concord, MA – our neighbor town – home to minutemen, abolitionists, transcendentalists, feminists – and Henry David Thoreau – has a history to be proud of. But Concord, MA, was also slave town and a place where scenes of cruelty toward enslaved and free black people were played out in places very familiar to me.  I had no idea - until just recently, thanks to a museum exhibit and a book which have taken on these issues, with a view to showing a more complete truth, some of it quite ugly. It’s too easy to point fault at the southern states for the long history of racial trouble in this country. Even in the most “enlightened” of places, sad and terrible things have occurred, never reckoned with, never accounted for, never faced, hidden over. 
 
In the 1770’s, a man named Case Feen, enslaved in Africa, was chopping wood on a winter’s day for his Concord master. The master’s son pelted him with snowballs as he worked, for fun.  Case turned and threw his ax toward the youth, missing. In fear of his life, he took off through Gowings Swamp, a place I pass on my drive into Concord; he ran through the Great Meadows, where I go to bird-watch; and he hid in the shallow waters of the Concord River, where I have skipped stones with my sons; escaping the townsmen who had turned out with guns and dogs in pursuit of a fugitive slave. He gave himself up to a neighbor and slipped away to enlist in the colonial troops – ultimately returning to work in Concord as a freedman, since he had no where else to go and his labor was still needed.
 
In another story, Brister, a freed slave living in Concord, was never humble enough to find acceptance or even tolerance from his white neighbors, even in his older years. One day, a white man and his friends, decided to test and torment 68-year old Brister, by luring him into a barn with an angry bull, and locking the door shut, leaving him with only an ax for defense. To the men’s surprise, Brister managed to kill the bull and survive, finally emerging through the unlocked door – but “white as a ghost” from his battle, which became the punch-line of the other men’s “joke”-- having turned a black man white from fright, traumatized and silenced for the remainder of his years.
 
Not every story involving the black population of Concord in its early years is a tragic one, but none is very happy. A young woman, Ellen Garrison Jackson, in spite of discrimination, was a star pupil at the Concord public schools, going on to become an abolitionist before the Civil War, and a teacher to freed men and women after the war, but she left Concord in her late teens, never to return. There was no life for her there. Not long after the Civil war, the small population of black residents in Concord disappeared from the landscape – migrating out, or succumbing to disease and malnourishment, from their lack of ability to own and work viable farmland.
 
I’ve lived in Bedford, MA, located between Lexington and Concord, for almost 25 years – and am an ardent student of history – there’s hardly a local tour I’ve missed. But, only in recent years have I learned these different versions of their history - through a visit to the Robbins House museum near Concord’s North Bridge battle site, home to black families in the 19th century.  And from reading “Black Walden” by hometown author and professor, Elise Lemire – who says she herself was taught nothing of this other history while growing up in Concord. From them, I’ve learned about the lives of people of color who moved here or were brought here, gleaned in large part from a surprising source: the journals of Henry David Thoreau, and “Walden” itself – where Thoreau speculates on former residents – squatters who were allowed only to live on undesirable soil, surviving on the fringes until no more were left. 
 
It’s not just “additional” history that’s come to light, but essential history, that impacts the traditional interpretations. The “freedom” to plot and to act against the royalist government was allowed in part from enslaved, unpaid labor. Abolitionists were willing to upset the social and economic systems of the South, but not to accept people of color as neighbors. And as always, always, we need to “follow the money” of early American prosperity – which in the case of northern businessmen, as well as southerners, was often tied up, one way or another, in the trade of enslaved human beings.

Concord, MA – our neighbor town – home to minutemen, abolitionists, transcendentalists, feminists – and Henry David Thoreau – has a history to be proud of. But Concord, MA, was also slave town and a place where scenes of cruelty toward enslaved and free black people were played out in places very familiar to me.  I had no idea - until just recently, thanks to a museum exhibit and a book which have taken on these issues, with a view to showing a more complete truth, some of it quite ugly. It’s too easy to point fault at the southern states for the long history of racial trouble in this country. Even in the most “enlightened” of places, sad and terrible things have occured, never reckoned with, never accounted for, never faced, hidden over. 
 
In the 1770’s, a man named Case Feen, enslaved in Africa, was chopping wood on a winter’s day for his Concord master. The master’s son pelted him with snowballs as he worked, for fun.  Case turned and threw his ax toward the youth, missing. In fear of his life, he took off through Gowings Swamp, a place I pass on my drive into Concord; he ran through the Great Meadows, where I go to bird-watch; and he hid in the shallow waters of the Concord River, where I have skipped stones with my sons; escaping the townsmen who had turned out with guns and dogs in pursuit of a fugitive slave. He gave himself up to a neighbor and slipped away to enlist in the colonial troops – ultimately returning to work in Concord as a freedman, since he had no where else to go and his labor was still needed.
 
In another story, Brister, a freed slave living in Concord, was never humble enough to find acceptance or even tolerance from his white neighbors, even in his older years. One day, a white man and his friends, decided to test and torment 68-year old Brister, by luring him into a barn with an angry bull, and locking the door shut, leaving him with only an ax for defense. To the men’s surprise, Brister managed to kill the bull and survive, finally emerging through the unlocked door – but “white as a ghost” from his battle, which became the punch-line of the other men’s “joke”-- having turned a black man white from fright, traumatized and silenced for the remainder of his years.
 
Not every story involving the black population of Concord in its early years is a tragic one, but none is very happy. A young woman, Ellen Garrison Jackson, in spite of discrimination, was a star pupil at the Concord public schools, going on to become an abolitionist before the Civil War, and a teacher to freed men and women after the war, but she left Concord in her late teens, never to return. There was no life for her there. Not long after the Civil war, the small population of black residents in Concord disappeared from the landscape – migrating out, or succumbing to disease and malnourishment, from their lack of ability to own and work viable farmland.
 
I’ve lived in Bedford, MA, located between Lexington and Concord, for almost 25 years – and am an ardent student of history – there’s hardly a local tour I’ve missed. But, only in recent years have I learned these different versions of their history - through a visit to the Robbins House museum near Concord’s North Bridge battle site, home to black families in the 19th century.  And from reading “Black Walden” by hometown author and professor, Elise Lemire – who says she herself was taught nothing of this other history while growing up in Concord. From them, I’ve learned about the lives of people of color who moved here or were brought here, gleaned in large part from a surprising source: the journals of Henry David Thoreau, and “Walden” itself – where Thoreau speculates on former residents – squatters who were allowed only to live on undesirable soil, surviving on the fringes until no more were left. 
 
It’s not just “additional” history that’s come to light, but essential history, that impacts the traditional interpretations. The “freedom” to plot and to act against the royalist government was allowed in part from enslaved, unpaid labor. Abolitionists were willing to upset the social and economic systems of the South, but not to accept people of color as neighbors. And as always, always, we need to “follow the money” of early American prosperity – which in the case of northern businessmen, as well as southerners, was often tied up, one way or another, in the trade of enslaved human beings. 

Sexual harassment on the job, sexual assault on campus, sexual abuse in the church and private schools – none of this is new. In fact, it’s old, old stuff – covered up for ages. So, why is it now “NEWS” of the type that hasn’t disappeared over night? After the first women spoke up, many chimed in, offered support, while others shook their heads in confusion, skepticism, and even worry. “Where will it end?”
 
 I’m surprised and glad the day has come, given my own experiences as a young single woman on my own supporting myself in the 70s and 80s. Stuff happened, bad stuff. But let me say here, also, that in my own long history, I encountered so many more good men of kindness and character. And the men I said “No” to, for whatever reason, stopped what they were doing, and I was never assaulted. For that I am grateful.
 
I’ve been pondering this – about sharing some incidents that happened when I was a teen, at my workplace.  The first involved my boss, the owner, who asked me to accompany him to a location remote from the main business for some purpose, and so I went along.  When we were some distance away, out of sight, he parked and started kissing me – the first time ever kissed by a grown man-- although I didn’t want to. I was so surprised, I let it go for a few minutes before pulling back, doubtfully.  He wiped his mouth, started to drive away, and never said a word, then or after.  I learned quickly to become “busy” and engaged with customers or a job if he came around.
 
In another incident, also at the work place, a customer came up from behind, put his arms around me and squeezed my breasts.  He had me pretty firmly, but I elbowed him and stepped away, only looking to see who it was and give him a dirty look. I remember thinking, “You old geeser” – although he was probably in his 50’s.  I wasn’t so much afraid – I could have gotten away, but I was disgusted and offended. I didn’t say anything then. Who was I going to complain to – the boss?  On another occasion, on another job, my new boss asked me out for dinner and drinks ON MY FIRST DAY – saying afterwards he’d like to go out again. I had to say NO – in fear of risking my job – which he accepted, but it made for an awkward situation. Waiting tables at a "fine establishment"? Forget about it; hands everywhere.
 
From those experiences, I was wary and careful about being alone with men in the workplace, or other situations out of the public eye – including conferences where there was lots of drinking – early to bed, lock my door. I know that other women handled things differently. And, let’s be real, there are women who have used looks, sexuality, etc. as a way of getting what they wanted, when other forms of power were so much harder to get. But if I had a daughter, I wouldn’t want her hampered or limited in opportunities because she was made to feel uncomfortable at work – that’s just another way of keeping someone “in their place”-- because it’s part of the power structure that has existed and been reinforced by silence.
 
It NEVER occurred to me to complain or ask for help. And I thought I was a feminist!  I thought it was normal to dodge guys who did or said something inappropriate.  What’s weird is I remember reading a passage from a book – Tom Jones by Henry Fielding, (I think) – that compared a young, unmarried woman on her own, between the safety of father and husband, as  “hare” on the run from hunters in pursuit. And I thought we were so far removed from that day!
 
 How did we reach the tipping point after so many years and so many incidents, so much silence, and so much disbelieving?  I can only conclude that enough younger women, emboldened by the gains of women in terms of power and economics, are just not willing to take the inappropriate behavior – to go along.  The actors and celebrities who started the protest against Harvey Weinstein had reached a social, emotional and psychological place where they decided it was worth this risk to speak out. Then the #metoo movement gained traction from women and some men of all ages, adding their stories.  I know this hasn’t been everyone’s experience – men or women – but I know enough people, certainly women of my age group, who went through this. And kept silent.
 
I’m glad these people spoke up. I never reached that point of speaking publicly – until now – when those men are long past accounting for. But I have told these things to my husband and my sons – and told them, too, I will be silent no more.