still not harriet

No one disputes that white abolitionists were active in the Underground Railroad, but later scholars argued that [a white historian] had exaggerated both their numbers and their importance, while downplaying or ignoring the role played by African-Americans. Among religious sects, for example, the Quakers generally receive the most credit for resisting slavery, with secondary acknowledgment going to the wave of evangelical Christianity that spread across the United States during the first half of the nineteenth century, in the movement known as the Second Great Awakening. Yet scant mainstream attention goes to the African Methodist Episcopal Church, which was established in 1816, in direct response to American racism and the institution of slavery, and played at least as crucial a role in raising money, aiding fugitives, and helping former slaves who had found their way to freedom make a new life.

This lopsided awareness holds not only for institutions but for individuals. Many people know of William Lloyd Garrison, one of the country’s leading white anti-slavery activists, while almost no one knows about the black abolitionist William Still—one of the most effective operators and most important historians of the Underground Railroad, whose book about it, published a quarter of a century before Siebert’s, was based on detailed notes he kept while helping six hundred and forty-nine fugitives onward toward freedom. Likewise, more people know the name of Levi Coffin, a white Midwestern Quaker, than that of Louis Napoleon, a freeborn black abolitionist, even though both risked their lives to help thousands of fugitives to safety.

This allocation of credit is inversely proportional to the risk that white and black anti-slavery activists faced. It took courage almost everywhere in antebellum America to actively oppose slavery, and some white abolitionists paid a price. A few were killed; some died in prison; others, facing arrest or worse, fled to Canada. But these were the exceptions. Most whites faced only fines and the opprobrium of some in their community, while those who lived in anti-slavery strongholds, as many did, went about their business with near-impunity.

Black abolitionists, by contrast, always put life and liberty on the line. If caught, free blacks faced the possibility of being illegally sold into slavery, while fugitives turned agents faced potential reënslavement, torture, and murder. Harriet Tubman is rightly famous for how boldly she faced those risks: first when she fled slavery herself; then during the roughly twenty return trips she made to the South to help bring others to freedom; and, finally, during the war, when she accompanied Union forces into the Carolinas, where they disrupted supply lines and, under her direction, liberated some seven hundred and fifty slaves. By then, slaveholders in her home state of Maryland were clamoring for her capture, dead or alive, and, in the words of her first biographer, publicly debating “the different cruel devices by which she would be tortured and put to death.”

—  [“The Perilous Lure of the Underground Railroad”]

anonymous asked:

A headcanon of Harriet teaching Harry to swim

Awwwwwwww, yes! I’ve been waiting for an excuse to write about Harriet. You just made my night.

- Harry was like 3 and Harriet was maybe 6? She was bored and it was summer and hot out so she decided to take the babies swimming. 

- Okay, so ‘swimming’ was more like the very shallow tides. BUT STILL.

- Harriet was helping CJ and Harry STILL sank like a rock.

- Harriet FREAKED and yanked him out of the water immediately.

- She had CJ get out of the water for a bit and then showed Harry how to float and tread water and move his arms and she didn’t go back to helping CJ until he had it.

- Harriet ranted and raved for five minutes. Seriously Harry those were the SHALLOWS how did you manage to sink?!? She can’t take you anywhere. Harry kinda got bored and tuned her out after a minute or two - big sister’s just mad, whatever, she’ll get over it.

- Harry’d been complaining it was hot all day but when he got in the water he pouted and said ‘Hettie, it’s cold’. She almost smacked him over the head.

- Once everyone was swimming, things were pretty fun. They spent a couple hours splashing around and wading in the water before Harriet brought them home. 

Japril Foreshadowing??

I don’t know if any of this makes sense, but I took a look at some possible examples of foreshadowing for Japril going back to season 10 through the present.  I really just needed to write this down for myself because when I am overanalyzing something, writing it down makes it clearer.  Anyway, here are some thoughts if you are bored and need something to read…

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This is based off of a prompt asking for what my ideal canon japril family would be like. I feel obligated to let you know three things, (a) This was written about a year ago. (b) The grammar is horrible! It’s not my best, it’s not even my somewhat okay, work. So, I am sorry if I let you down. © I like big families, I mean, BIG FAMILIES. Just so you’re ready :P 

Samuel Norbert Avery knew that growing up in a big family meant lots and lots of patience. It meant that although it had already been 30 minutes since he had gotten ready, he had to sit on top of his suitcase, flipping through his favourite Dr Suess book and wait for the rest of the family. 

 He heard someone walk towards the living room and looked up to see his mother carrying his younger sister, who was struggling in her arms. She put her down on the kitchen counter and started to brush her hair, while his sister kept yelling really loud. Samuel sighed, thinking about how he had never been a fan of how loud his sister could be when she had to do something she didn’t want to do. He recalled how his mother called her Princess Harriet when she acting this way. She had quite a reputation. His mom always said that she got it from their dad. Samuel laughed to himself, remembering how his dad would argue and say that he was pretty sure she got her lungs from mom and mom would slap his chest. 

 Regardless of whom she got it from, Samuel had always thought his sister, Harriet Celie Avery, who was 4 years old, one year younger than he was, was crazy sometimes. Gramma Catherine had always said that she’s got ‘quite a personality’. He wasn’t entirely sure what she means by that but he guessed it just meant that the way she behaved was really too much for everyone to handle. She drove mama crazy; if she didn’t like something, you knew it. She talked to strangers and always got into trouble at school for saying things you shouldn’t because she was “too smart for her own good” or atleast that’s what mama said. Samuel just didn’t understand her sometimes. 

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Happy Birthday!

“Jackson, please, stop.”

“No, April, I won’t. It’s her first birthday. I think we, better than anyone, are aware how you can’t get these for granted.”

 A deep silence felt over the wooden table. The redhead was staring at her lap, hands still holding the silverware. She could feel the tears pooling up behind her waterline, but was determined to not let them fall. April could feel Jackson’s eyes staring at her skull, and she could picture exactly how guilt and apologetic they were at the moment. Unfortunately, the anger that was overcoming the sadness in her chest didn’t let her care. She saw his hand lay the fork over the table and try to reach hers right in front of him, as she wouldn’t meet his eyes, but all the woman could do was to release her utensils and put them away.

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Tracy was the only one who was still even slightly concerned. 

Harriet, seated next to her, was fully in the moment. She rocked and bobbed her body to the music, low and throbbing in the limo. Her moves looked like fifty percent dance, fifty percent posing to show off all her various enticing assets.

Across from them, Jen was even worse. When they’d gotten into the man’s car, she’d been gazing at him hotly. Before long, she was seated as close to him as she could. There was barely a spot between earlobe and ankle where light would’ve shone through between the two of them. Now, she was more or less in his lap, laughing quietly as he talked into her collarbone. 

The two of them, in short, weren’t really their usual selves right now. Nobody would buy Harriet as a quiet, keeps-to-herself accounting whiz, or Jen as the ball-busting, efficiency-obsessed project manager that Tracy knew. 

And I’m no better, Tracy thought, realizing that the dazed way she stared at Jen and the man didn’t really make her look like the tough, confident professional she thought of herself as.

Summoning up all that sense of self, she leaned forward a little. “Where are we going, again?” Her voice wasn’t nearly the strong, assertive force she’d been hoping for. Oh well. Even speaking up felt like a minor victory.

The man adjusted his gaze, peering around Jen’s head. Jen didn’t bother turning to face Tracy - she seemed to be nibbling on the man’s ear as he spoke. “A friend’s house,” he said. “I have a few… buddies, and I think they’d like to meet you girls.”

Harriet tossed her head in such a way that her hair got in Tracy’s eyes for a sec. She seemed just as uninterested as Jen in the conversation going on.

Tracy tried hard to focus. The man’s tone was so casual and friendly, it made it hard to want to ask more questions. Seemed like it’d be so nice to just space out, like her friends. Everybody was having fun, after all.

So why did she feel like that was such a bad idea?

In her haze, Tracy noticed just how far up Jen’s skirt the man’s hand was. She managed to press out another question. “What was your name? I can’t remember…”

He just smiled. “Drink your champagne,” he said, turning his attention back to Jen.

Tracy smiled. That sounded nice. She took a sip of her drink. It was gooood. She bounced a little, in rhythm with Harriet. What had she just been thinking about?

A few moments passed. The limo drove on, through the night. Tracy had no idea where they were. How long had they been driving?

Actually, come to think of it, why’d they get in this car in the first place? 

She looked at the man, whose hand was now moving rhythmically under Jen’s skirt. Jen was mewling, squirming in his lap, kissing him ardently.

“Um,” Tracy said, “I don’t remember how we got here. I mean, we were at that bar, and… you came up to us, and-”

“That’s enough questions now, honeypie,” the man said, pinning her with a look. Tracy - honeypie - looked back, and felt something inside her wilt away. She nodded, smiled, and sipped more champagne.

“When we get to where we’re going, you’re going to entertain my friends very nicely, right girls?” All three girls nodded in sync, empty smiles on their faces. “They’ve paid well for the privilege. So you’re going to give them the night of their lives. Aren’t you?”

Jen could only whimper and moan an affirmative. Harriet nodded eagerly, still dancing and wriggling. 

And honeypie smiled bright, leaned in. “Uh huh!” she said. It sounded so fun! This was the best night ever!

“Good girls,” he said.