Week One: America’s birth, our nation

By Karsonya Wise Whitehead, Ph.D. 

The history of America is written in blood, civil strife, rebellion, resistance, treachery and deception. It is also written in bravery, heroism, sacrifice and slavery. America was built on the backs of our ancestors and through the wombs—that were claimed, owned, and enslaved—of our grandmothers.

The birth of America did not start with a bang or with a bullet. It started with a petition for redress of grievances. 

On June 7, 1776, Richard Lee of Virginia stood up in the Pennsylvania State House to read his resolution. This was a momentous occasion that marked what was already happening in the 13 colonies. Two years earlier, in May 1775, when King George III failed to respond to the Second Continental Congress’s petition, the colonists began to assume national duties, which included establishing a national currency, a Continental Army, and a post office for the “United Colonies.” 

At that time, around 2.5 million colonists lived in America. Among them were 500,000 enslaved men, women and children. It is ironic that while White colonists were calling for their independence, they were actively enslaving Black colonists. They would continue to do so for the next 89 years until the ratification of the 13th Amendment on December 6, 1865.

Before White colonists formally declared their independence in 1776, Black people had been declaring and fighting for theirs since at least 1526, when the first 100-plus enslaved people revolted and escaped from San Miguel de Gualdape, the first European settlement in the continental U.S. This was the first rebellion of enslaved people fighting to be free. 

In 1644, about 118 years later, 11 enslaved men and women in the Black community of New Amsterdam, the principal port city and capital, petitioned for and won their freedom and land. They had completed 17 of their 18 years of indentured servitude. They argued that they should be freed and not subject to the 1625 Virginia law spreading across the colonies. This law distinguished between Black servitude and Black slavery. It helped lay the foundation for the harsher slave laws enforced from 1657 onward. Although this was the first documented legal racial protest (that we know of), it was likely not the first ever, and it was certainly not the last. 

The earliest account of a rebellion by enslaved men and women in the 13 colonies occurred in 1687 on a Virginia plantation. Although their plan was discovered before it happened, the idea that Black people were organizing back then to aggressively challenge the system is important to note.

There have always been multiple movements and ideas within the Black community around resistance. This means that protests happened in the streets and in the courtroom. They happened in the schools and in the public square. They happened when we chose to stay, and when we chose to run or ride on a train, or stow away on a boat, or mail ourselves to freedom. 

Understanding all these realities helps frame the Black American experience not just for the past 250 years but for the past 500 years (San Miguel de Gualdape, or 407 years if you date back to 1619 in Jamestown, Va). The struggle and desire to be free, write our history, and pursue our destiny have always been part of that experience. Despite laws that were crafted to restrict our rights and freedoms, our desire to be free remains central to America’s story. The questions have never been about whether we should join the struggle for civil rights, but when, where, and to what extent. 

As America advanced from its early beginnings to its position as a world power, Black people have contributed significantly, yet we have not always shared equally in its progress. Our struggles have included not just fighting for land and physical freedom, but also to force this nation to fulfill its promises as outlined in our founding documents. The questions these struggles raise—about liberty and justice—have existed since America’s start and persist today. 

In the 21st century, these questions may seem simple, but history reveals how deeply they shape our identity and who belongs in the American narrative. Black history is American history, a fact we strive to affirm within a society constructed on Whiteness and upheld by White supremacy. 

We commit to these self-evident truths and have consistently shown our willingness to fight and die for them. My father once asked, “How can you face the truth of America and not be angry enough to want to burn it all down?” My mother replied, “How do you burn down the house you live in?” For many Black Americans, this is the core experience: fighting to save a burning house while living in it.

Frederick Douglass, in 1851, argued that after 230 years of chains, lashes, bloodhounds and utter insecurity, we learned to live on. We learned to smile through it all. We sang through our pain and laughed through our tears. Even when we thought we made it, we were reminded again and again that America had never been America to us. This is the land of the free and the home of the brave. It is the place that at one time claimed to welcome the poor, huddled masses, and guaranteed life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Yet it has never offered or kept those promises to us. 

Although America has been “independent” since 1776, Black Americans have not. We have been tormented, enslaved and killed for being Black in America. We watched as our neighborhoods were terrorized, our children frightened, our sisters violated, and our brothers incarcerated. We understood—without always saying it—that the only reason White America stood tall was that they made us kneel so they could stand on our backs. It was that way in the beginning, and in so many instances, it is that way today. 

On the eve of the celebration of the Declaration of Independence, while our cries still struggle to be heard above the noise, we must remember that we are the heart and soul of America. We have always—and will always—matter.

Sit with that for a moment.

And then,

Before we celebrate,

Before we dance,

Before we raise any flags,

Before we light fireworks,

Before we hear more lies about the truth of the American promise,

Before we listen as they spin the horror and terror of our past,

Before they conveniently forget our sacrifice and try to make us forget, again.

Take a moment to remember and then share that the birth of America is the birth of our nation too.

The opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the writer and not necessarily those of the AFRO.

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