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a bit forced in service of a larger argument about black women and militant
antirape activism. McGuire shares that Parks wrote letters, signed petitions,
and sent postcards in an effort to secure justice for Recy Taylor (p. 20). Many
others did as well. (McGuire does include the full text of one Parks letter, which
appears to be a form letter addressed to the governor.) Parks offers very little
about the Taylor case in her autobiography, other than it was a memory that
stood out for her. She recalled that some people formed a Committee for
Equal Justice for Mrs. Taylor, and she noted specifically the involvement of
Caroline Bellin, a white woman who was executive secretary for the group.
Parks did not reflect on her own involvement, although McGuire credits Parks
with being one of the committees founders.
McGuire also interviewed Taylor and her family members, and the results
of her conversations are included in a marvelously rendered epilogue that
captures McGuires return visit to Abbeville at the moment of President Barack
Obamas inauguration. What more did Recy Taylor share with McGuire, if
anything, about her working relationship with Parks during the campaign
and the subsequent efforts to keep her safe from the hundreds of threats she
received after reporting the crime? She doesnt tell us. As it stands, there
is a bit of irony to Parks presence in McGuires book: Parks the tired lady
on the bus is replaced with another iconic image, one that needs fleshing
out. McGuire proclaims the new Parks in the context of Taylors dreadful
experience, but there is still much to learn. No doubt, Taylor and Parks were
linked by time, space, and their initial interpersonal contact (the importance
of which should not be diminished). In the final analysis, though, it seems
unnecessary to frame Taylors incredible experience against the backdrop of
revisionism on Rosa Parks. Possibly the idea of tying in Rosa Parks so visibly
was a marketing one suggested by McGuires publisher. Taylors story and the
well-researched history that McGuire has written about the numerous other
cases stand on their own.
Undoubtedly, the clearest example of antirape activism as civil rights activism is the Tallahassee case of Betty Jean Owens, a student at Florida A&M
University. The circumstances of her attack mirrored that of Recy Taylor. On
May 2, 1959, four white males gathered to go out and get a nigger girl. They
kidnapped Owens and raped her seven times. The men were arrested, and
the Tallahassee community, led by college students, mobilized to great effect.
The civil rights movement had already begun in earnest by 1956, the year of a
Tallahassee bus boycott that was inspired by the Montgomery protest. Drawn
toward the immediacy and drama of direct action, the students marched with
signs, sang hymns, and boycotted their classes in response to the rape. They
also made a huge show of support for the devastated Owens, who remained
hospitalized for depression and physical injuries as a result of the assault.
They showed up two-hundred strong at the trial, crowding the balcony of
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the experience was, McGuire, drawing on the recent work of John Dittmer,
cites a chilling report issued by the Medical Committee for Human Rights, a
group of physicians who provided medical assistance to Mississippi activists
during the voter registration campaigns of 1964.2 Sexual abuse was rampant.
And where there were patterns of sexual violence, black women responded
through organized protests. In most Mississippi cases, white men got away
with sexual violence against black women routinely. Only ten were convicted
of rape between 1940 and 1965. In 1965, a white man was convicted of rape
and sentenced to life in prison without parole, a curious case if only because
McGuire leaves it to her notes to explain why she chose not to count this case
in her calculations: it involved pedophilia, which she regards as a different
and unique sex crime (p. 271). The victim was a five-year-old girl who later
identified one of the two white men who raped her while she played on a
plantation. Given the historical significance of the conviction and the fact that
so much seemed to depend on the testimony of a small child, it is puzzling
that McGuire did not offer more about the case or her method.
Despite the civil rights movements landmark legislative achievements (the
1964 Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act of 1965), black women remained
vulnerable to sexualized racial violence. And they would continue to resist,
sometimes with deadly results. One of the most celebrated cases was that of
twentyyear-old Joan Little, a North Carolina inmate sexually assaulted by a
prison guard. In self-defense, she stabbed the sixty-twoyear-old white male
with an ice pick. Authorities found her assailant naked from the waist down
with a stream of semen across his leg. Little had fled the Beaufort County Jail
in Washington, North Carolina, after the stabbing and remained on the run for
two weeks. After she surrendered, the Free Joan Little campaign went into
overdrive. It was a multiracial, feminist-led effort that was international in its
reach. In the end, Little was acquitted, mostly as a result of her exceptionally
skilled defense team. For McGuire, the Free Joan Little campaign was about
both continuity and change. It was a euphoric victory for the defense of black
womanhood that resulted from organized effort, as in earlier years; but the
times were also different. McGuire argues that Little was not a sympathetic
victim, but that standard was no longer the sole determinant of whether a
woman received justice. When imperfect black women were raped, juries
began to believe them just the same, owing to the right set of circumstances
and a changed racial climate. Here, McGuire stumbles a bit in trying to locate
broader significance for the Little trial in a slight attitude shift about black
womanhood. Certainly the times had changed, but the decisive factor in the
trial definitely had to do with the masterful performance of her two attorneys
the brilliant Karen Galloway (the first African American woman graduate of
Duke Law School) and Jerry Paul, a quirky, straight-shooting white Southern
male of principle. The defense strategy rested on Littles self-defense claim,
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as well as on a focus on the broad history of black women and sexual abuse
throughout the South. Another factor that figured in Littles acquittal was
the sheer scope of media attention, which appeared greater than it had been
for any previous case. In searching for some historical perspective, McGuire
might have also considered Little in the context of other abused black women
who murdered their offenders. Two that attracted attention were the cases of
Ruby McCollum and Lena Baker. McCollum was one of the wealthiest African
Americans in northern Florida in 1952 when she murdered her white lover, a
physician and elected state official who was enraged that she would not abort
her pregnancy. The case was covered extensively in the black press because
of the role of celebrated writer Zora Neale Hurston. Eight years before the
McCollum case captured headlines, there was the Georgia case of Lena Baker,
who holds the sad distinction of being the first and only woman electrocuted
in the state.3 Both of these earlier cases involved sexual abuse and resistance,
and treatment of them would have added another dimension to McGuires
abuse-and-resistance framework.
In examining the Little case, McGuire keeps her focus on interracial rape,
as she does throughout the book. But it is hard to ignore the experience of
intraracial rape, about which black women became increasingly more vocal
during the 1970s, individually and collectively. One activist recalled how the
Black Panther Party once had its own system (a mini-trial, in one instance)
for women who accused brothers of rape. Sexual violence within nationalist organizations was a problemone big enough for black women to leave
those groups and form their own feminist organizations.4
All things considered, McGuire has written a timely book. It is hard to
imagine other civil rights histories that will be talked about in the same way
that her work will be discussed over the next few years. She has given us a
lot to ponder, and this fact alone will distinguish her work.
Chana Kai Lee is associate professor of history at the University of Georgia.
She is author of For Freedoms Sake: The Life of Fannie Lou Hamer (1999 ).
1. Examples of such work include J. Mills Thornton III, Dividing Lines: Municipal Politics
and the Struggle for Civil Rights in Montgomery, Birmingham, and Selma (2002); Stewart Burns,
ed., Daybreak of Freedom: The Montgomery Bus Boycott (1997); Rosa Parks with James Haskins,
Rosa Parks: My Story (1992); Douglas Brinkley, Rosa Parks: A Life (2000).
2. John Dittmer, The Good Doctors: The Medical Committee for Human Rights and the Struggle
for Social Justice in Health Care (2009).
3. William Bradford Huie, Ruby McCollum: Woman in the Suwannee Jail (1956); C. Arthur
Ellis, Jr., Ph.D., and Leslie E. Ellis, Ph.D., The Trial of Ruby McCollum: The True-Crime Story
that Shook the Foundations of the Segregationist South (2003); Lela Bond Phillips, The Lena Baker
Story (2001).
4. Kathleen Neal Cleaver, Women, Power, and Revolution, New Political Science 21 (1999):
235; Kimberly Springer, Living for the Revolution: Black Feminist Organizations, 19681980 (2005).