At The Du

It was cool yet sunny as I parked my car at the DuSable Black History Museum and Education Center. I had left Madison fairly early so I'd have plenty of time to get there but the Kennedy wasn't a disaster and so I found myself with a little time to blow before my tour with Dilla. What better way to spend it than my first visit to the DuSable?

That's an old photo. I found that the front entrance was closed but helpful signs directed me to the rear where a temporary entrance welcomed visitors. The museum had just opened and the gentleman who was to sell me a ticket was still getting himself together. As his credit card scanner hoolie warmed up, a woman pulled a cart of shirts towards the makeshift gift shop in the adjacent room.

The scanner was in no hurry to become operable - it was Sunday, after all - so the fellow told me to go in and pay on my way out.

My first stop was the I Am Her exhibit. 

It was full of art that both celebrated black women and acknowledged their pains. A video played which talked about the history of the treatment of black women in the country, or, perhaps more accurately, their mistreatment.

The exhibit took as its focus Anjanette Young, a Chicago woman who was the victim of a botched police raid - they had the wrong residence - back in 2019. She was handcuffed without any clothes on and suffered trauma and humiliation.

I Am Her is a powerful exhibit. The faces of black women who were killed as well as faces in pain, in anguish as above are incredibly moving. Feelings of anger and sadness welled up and were given fuel by the red paint that covered most of the walls. That color heightened my emotions and invoked the blood spilled by many a black woman.

I stepped out into another room which had an exhibit on the Red Summer with an emphasis on the Chicago Race Riots of 1919.

They began after an incident at the 29th Street Beach on the 27th of July of that year. A black boy named Eugene Williams crossed the unofficial color line that separated white swimmers from black. For his mistake, Williams was stoned and drowned.

The police were rather unhelpful, to say the least, as illustrated by this disturbing photograph. 

I knew about this horrible episode in the history of my hometown but the photos really added a visceral disgust that merely reading and listening about it couldn't have generated.

Next was a larger room that took on the story of blacks in America. It began, of course, with slavery.

Looking at the manacles and imagining being in them as I am shipped across an ocean by brutal slavers sent a shiver down my spine. It is almost unthinkable.

There were several print ads on display which notified readers of slave auctions in language so casual that, if enslaved people weren't involved, they would be little different from a department store ad today offering tempting deals on clothing and phone sanitizer wipes.

Moving along the exhibit, I came to the section on Jim Crow. There is something genuinely disturbing about being within touching distance of a KKK robe.

It's like someone was able to extract evil from the human heart and convert it into fabric. Just imagine a set of eyes peering out from that hood, seething with hatred then exuding a grim satisfaction at a burning cross as the flames are reflected in them.

Continuing, I came to the Civil Rights Era. There was a lot of Illinois Black Panther stuff here. 

This is the door of the Black Panther's Chicago HQ after a raid by the police.

I realized by this time that I was feeling rather anxious. Putting myself in the place of all these various people really made me feel tense and agitated.

To relax I entered an exhibit of African art which held masks, statues, etc. 

By the time I stepped out back into the hallway, I saw that my tour time approached and so I made for the exit but not before paying my admission fee. My early departure meant that I hadn't wandered to the second floor where yet more exhibits, such as one on Harold Washington, beckoned. But they would have to wait until another visit.

I look forward to seeing what the rest of the museum offers as the first floor is rather depressing, outside of the African art. You cannot ignore the injustices that blacks have suffered here but their triumphs are many. Anjanette Young was horribly violated in 2019 but she continues to demand justice and accountability for being wronged and she lobbies for reform in how the Chicago Police execute search warrants.

How do you tell her story? Do you leave out certain parts? Maybe emphasize one and not the other?

Personally, I don't think images of Young standing there naked while surrounded by police should define her. Rather her crusade for justice and reform should. They illustrate her tremendous strength as well as her place in the wider community as opposed to being an isolated victim and her pursuit for changes in police regulations can benefit many residents of Chicago.

The I Am Her exhibit proved to be even more powerful and thought-provoking than I figured initially. I am looking forward to returning. Perhaps later this year when that new exhibit is up.