“Go out and get a nigger girl,” is what they said that Friday night.
“Are you going to believe this nigger wench over these four boys?,” the defense lawyer said in court.
“You must remember it wasn’t just one Negro girl that was raped—it was all of Negro womanhood in the South,” they petitioned on a national stage.
“It could have been YOUR sister, wife, or mother,” they especially said to the men.
“Just happy that the jury upheld my daughter’s womanhood,” said momma when the beginning was over.
***
That night my sister Betty had just had the time of her life.
She looked like a dream in her gold and white, a black beauty like all black beauties that fateful night. She was a college girl representing the family at Florida’s A&M University. Momma taught her how to look presentable, talk sharp, and act like somebody raised her for the world to see.
She might have had a crush or two, I don’t know, she would never tell me. All I know is that she was my big sister, and she was everything I was supposed to be.
She was smart, liked jokes, loved to dance, and could put you in your place if you got out of line. She got in trouble from time to time for talking to boys, but she never missed Sunday school. She was complicated, full, and my sister.
When those men tried to steal her soul by invading her body that night, I wanted to extinguish them myself. I wanted to show them my rage and their inferiority. I wanted to slice their eyes, and drown the devil out of them. They hurt my sister in a way I will never know, and I wanted to bring pain to their dead lives.
For Betty.
For Betty’s smile, for Betty’s laugh, for Betty’s lips, for Betty’s chest, for Betty’s thighs, for Betty’s back, for Betty’s entire being.
She existed fully before that night, and it is my hope that she may exist fully after.
***
Some wept for Betty with me. Some wanted to fight for Betty. Some wanted revenge for every Black woman on this soil who had ever been raped, dehumanized, or degraded. We could see the intimate violence that has declared war on the Black woman’s body. Some of us know it too well.
When the terrible happened, many people came to Betty’s defense. They claimed it was as if they all had been raped, men and women alike. They shouted that Betty’s womanhood should be protected and upheld, just as white womanhood was.
But some just wanted her recognition solely because it was tied to our brothers, fathers, uncles. Said this was an attack on the Black man. My sister became a political symbol as the world watched on. She was the middle-class, respectable, college-educated Black woman whose virginity was stolen by aberrant or standard “white devils.” For some, she became collateral in this fight between patriarchies, and was defended because she was worth saving.
I especially like that you focused on Betty's identity, and how that played into the reactions to her rape. Her story was used by different groups, an example of how black women's bodies have been used for the benefit of others. The crime against her body was seen as an attack on black men. The notion that she was "defended because she was worth saving" is also a very important point and plays into the politics of respectability. She had the "ideal" qualities of respectability and education that made her a symbol of purity. If she was poor, or had a known sexual history, that would greatly alter the defense of her and completely change how she was seen. I wonder why you chose to tell the story not from Betty's point of view. It is an interesting look at the people surrounding her, but why did you make the choice not to include her point of view?
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