From
the Journal of Frances Wright
May 1, 1815
I’’ve taken
quite a fancy to my uncle’s, James Milne, progressive philosophy, and I shall
take his ideas to whatever new land I end up in. He has challenged my perceptions of the world
and morality in such a way that inspired me reflect upon myself the limits of
right and wrong among individuals and society.
So many of the conventional norms we are taught to obey without question
don’t make much sense to me. If all men
are born free and equal, then why are only some men treated free and equal? Slavery
continues to be a thorn in society’s side to think particularly of America where
it has infected her Southern bosom and how it only keeps spreading. Then there are us women. We must not allow the masculine race to pin
us down to child bearing, sowing needles, and “keepers of the home”.
June 26, 1818
America is beautiful. I arrived several months ago and since then
I’ve been traveling to all corners of this diverse land, which has the
potential to become a utopia for all men and women of rational thought and
moral. Even the white racist southern men, who creates a fantastic drink called
“moonshine”, I have come to tolerate them if only for moments at a time, but
still I do appreciate their hospitality.
I do find their southern accent adorable although I must admit to me it
sounds like a primitive version of English.
On to more important issues…
America is still in
her youth. She is a young nation that is
capable of a prosperous future if the tenets of Democracy are met and
upheld. As I have said before, the
institution of slavery is a thorn digging deeper in America’s side, and until
it is fully eradicated I fear it will
tear this nation asunder leading consequently to the destruction of the vision
of Democracy that so many patriots sacrificed
his life to achieve in the fight for independence against the bloody
British imperialists. It would be a damn
shame if this unjust institution brings down America, and I will have something
to say about it.
But slavery is not the only thing I
believe causing tension in this nation. Education
should be available to all persons who wish to pursue it not just those who can
afford it or inherit it because of the class they were born into. The more
knowledge one seeks to learn the better off he/she is in being successful and
financially stable. Furthermore,
educated people tend to question the social norms the masses conform to because
conformity hides fear. A Democratic
society needs educated people who can think for themselves and engage in public
discussions and debates. That’s part of
what Democracy is, the freedom express one’s opinion to the public sector, no
matter how idiotic one’s opinion may be, to make people aware and helping them
make up their own damn minds.
Just the other day I went into town,
Upstate New York, and noticed one fanatic blabbering “the end is near, repent
and be saved Or else suffer damnation in the fiery pits of hell!” What atrocious hogwash. After that encounter I almost had to repent
for lending my ears to that holy-roller who spent every breath he could muster
telling lies and spreading fear. I know
I’m radical but at least I have reason and logic, which work to persuade, to
back up my claims.
But I also came across one
individual, a gentleman by the name of John Brown, who spoke eloquently, from
an abolitionist’s perspective, on the evils of slavery, and that abolitionists’
must work to free slaves by means of armed insurrection. Perhaps he is right in advocating a call to
bear arms for this purpose because white slave owners will not willingly give
up his property. Mr. Brown’s ideas are
revolutionary, and makes me think that there are more people who share the same
convictions as he. If he were to run for
office I would surely give him my vote.
The gathering was moderate, yet it didn’t matter to Mr. Brown the size
of the mob, for his message was clear as day: “the institution of slavery is
immoral and what we need is action”. He
stands apart from other abolitionists who call themselves pacifists like the
Quakers. Although slavery is prevalent
here, for those who want to see it abolished, extreme measures must
persist. Mr. Brown understands this
concept like me and other likeminded progressive and radical people.
The feminist movement is still in its
early stages, but I should hope that in the future feminists will organize,
speak freely, and perhaps even hold a convention that would draw the attention
of other advocates for the rights of women.
By the looks of it, Seneca Falls seems ideal for women of all
backgrounds to convene, speak freely, and spread the feminine word. Obviously suffrage is the primary issue
feminists are concerned with, but it’s also one chunk of the wide umbrella
involving women’s rights. There is also
birth control, sexual freedom, property rights, education, equal pay, dress,
etc. I personally think free education
is of equal importance to suffrage. When
women become competent readers, they shall have to read Mary Wollstonecraft’s
text “A Vindication of the Rights of
Woman.” But there is much to say on
this topic and many others that I cannot fit it all in my journal.
October 25, 1821
I’m happy to say that my book, Views of Society and Manners in America
has been published and was well received amongst my radical colleagues in
England, and if they like it here they must like it in America, right? England is practically just like America
except the English feel the need to conquer the world. I plan on returning to America once I save
enough money in which my book profits will generously compensate for my trip
back. In the mean time I’ll be at the
local pub, the vile hole, where my comrades await my presence.
October 8, 1824
I’m back in my newly adopted country
and feeling better than ever in the pursuit to take action for what I believe
in. I’ve been spending much of my time
in New Harmony community in Indiana, a utopian community established by Robert
Dale Owen in which blacks and whites can live in harmony with one another. New Harmony is the direction America and
Democracy must take in order to ensure a bright future. The point of the community, I don’t think, is
to love one another unconditionally but instead learn how to cooperate with one
another in any circumstance.
Owen has inspired me to establish a
cooperative community in the name of progress, and I anticipate my plan will
come into fruition in the near distant future.
If he can do it then surely I can too.
Besides, I read in the local paper that religious cults (Oneida
community and Joseph Smith’s Mormonism) are springing up like poppy fields to
which the masses flee to. But my cult
will have no religious affiliation, which would make it very much unlike a cult
as I see it.
January 26, 1825
Managing a utopian community is tough
work as I am learning from experience. The first phase of my experiment went
smoothly enough. With the money I saved
up, I purchased 2,000 acres of land near Memphis and founded the Nashoba
community. The white southern gentleman
from who I purchased the land from looked at me battled as if he’s never seen a
lady handle paperwork and money with the intention to acquire 2,000 acres of
fine American grassland. I figure 2,000
acres is enough land to accommodate myself plus the slaves I purchased to bring
over, free them and grant them land on the settlement though all are welcome so
long they comply with some basic principles.
At
first I thought the Africans were going to try and flee after being inducted
into the community, but instead they complied with my plans to regulate and
organize Nashoba accordingly so as to allow them the promised acre or more of
land. The Africans already belong to the
legions of toil, that is, knowing and doing the routine work that goes into
farming and growing crops to be equally distributed among the community
members. The black women, either pregnant
or with an infant, stay inside the cabin nurturing her dearest one(s). I’'ve been trying to persuade the men to stay
home while the women toil in the fields, but they feel most reluctant to break
with tradition even on days where the scorching sun makes it most uncomfortable
to endure a heat hotter than Satan’s hoofs.
They claim that they have grown accustomed to all the elements of southern
humidity. Me on the other hand, being
raised in Scotland, if I stay out too long beneath the sun’s rays I’ll end up a
victim of skin cancer exfoliating and shedding like a reptilian monster.
Overall, it’s the simplicity factor
that makes Nashoba function. With all
major faculties shared, each family unit has their personal possessions that
stays with them or in the privacy of their homes, and because of the homogenous
population, the Africans share a robust sentiment among each other that is
derived in their past lives of subjugation.
This sentiment brings about the unspoken treaty of respect, yet it is
felt and followed by them all. If only
all beings followed this code to live by; the fact that we all suffer from “the
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”, so why not diminish part of the
misery by treating all sentient beings with dignity and respect. Although the majority of the population is
people of African descent, there are whites here among us who participate in
the community in any and all ways. The
whites are better educated, so I suggested to them that a school must be
formed, and they be its educators. They
agreed and established the “Nashoba Community School”. We thought it best that children be obligated
to complete basic reading, writing and math courses to begin. The whites came from the South, and they
claimed that slavery had become an intolerable institution poisoning Democratic
society. So with the help of these new
abolitionists, our community grows in strength, not only in numbers and
diversity, but also in our manifesto statement of how society should and could
function for the benefit of all regardless of skin color. No one is kept here against their will, yet
they choose to stay, I think, because the outside world is still too cruel to
accept free black persons.
Our community members insist on
building a small chapel. While I’m not a
fan of the idea I can respect their religious convictions, so in my compliance
with the chapel they made a promise to me to not allow worship service to get
in the way of work. Since I do admit to
being a contentious individual, I also argued to them that their “faith” is
just a product of being conditioned by their former masters. In truth, it is something they picked up like
a habit and stuck to it without so much as to question their own motivation in
nurturing “faith” and scripture. They
responded by conceding that I was probably right, but it was too late to
change, and faith in God brings about a comforting feeling. I then reassured myself that if this feeling
of comfort is indeed true then it will subsequently help them in the fruits of
their labor, which would be a benefit for the whole community
.
March 17, 1828,
I fear Nashoba only has about a month
before it collapses financially as well as conflict with the law. It started about a year ago when government
officials became skeptical of our community.
Some of them went so far as to covertly join the community in order to
dig up some dirt and report it back to the state. Once the state acquired substantial evidence
of the inner workings in Nashoba, the legislature enacted an “anti- conspiracy”
law. I guess they felt threatened by
vegetables and interracial harmony. Many
of our members left and headed either north or west upon hearing of the new
government threat. Its better they leave
now than face persecution later with the law or once again being subjected to
slave work. For the 30 or so who were
brave enough to stay, I’ve arranged to transport them to Haiti, which gained
independence in 1804. I have to do
something for these good people; I feel responsible for them, and for three
years they were my family.
Tonight we feast, dance, and drink
ale. It’s all going under anyway, so why
not enjoy the little time we have left?
The last three years have been an experience that will shape my life in
whatever endeavors or challenges that come my way. The core of Nashoba represented, to me, the
potential of America, and all she has to offer to her inhabitants if and only
if people overcome their prejudices and petty differences. I’ve decided, once I close this chapter in my
life, to get back on the road and give speeches based on my progressive ideology,
because after my life here in Nashoba I can finally speak from experience on
issues that many would consider theoretical.
But enough politics for now and on with the feast I say.
August 11, 1831,
The transition from single radical
woman to submissive wife is the direction my life is now veering towards. The Frenchman insists on my calling him “Doctor”
Darusmont, for he says he earned his prestigious “Doctor” title, and I must acknowledge
this at all times. I’ have never met a
man this insecure and probably never will.
Speaking of titles, back in America I earned a reputation, which came
from giving speeches of all sorts, of “rabble rouser”, and I’m proud of my
title though without the need to brag about it.
Rabble rousers are a minority.
I’m questioning why I ended up marrying the man. I fell in love with a man who said and did
the right things, a charming man. This
charming side of him began fading away soon after the wedding, and now things
are insipid and predictable. He doesn’t
agree with most of my political views insisting that that part of my life is
over, and that my rightful place is on the home now. This is insulting to me, and everything I
stand for. Never will I join the ranks
of these Victorian automaton women.
As expected the Doctor and I got a
divorced; actually he divorced me since women are not yet allowed to legally
leave their husbands due to inane laws aimed only at benefiting males. He managed to take control of my property,
money, and only daughter. Luckily
though, I have some extra funds stashed in Scotland at one of my trusting
relative’s house to which I will use to go back to America. My daughter Frances Silva will be missed but
not forgotten. I will regret not being
there with her, watching her growing up, questioning, and raging against the
system, but I will fight for her rights, for I hope women’s voting rights will
become a reality in the gap of her generation.
October 25, 1852,
After my speech I met an interesting
young man by the name of Walt Whitman.
Walt is an aspiring writer from New York. He is interested in all areas of life from
political philosophy to the literary arts.
He was curious to find out more about my experiences in establishing the
beloved Nashoba community, asking me all kinds of questions concerning the
daily habits of life there and living peacefully in a multiracial commune. He then started asking me about my own
personal philosophy on life, politics, ethics and religion to which I gladly
shared with him. He mentioned he has
ideas of his own in these types of matters though his craft lies in pen and
paper. He said he is currently working
on a project entitled “Leaves of Grass”, and that this work will change the
foundation of American writing and society; that it will establish an identity
for American poetry. He said all this with
confidence so sincere without bragging or gloating so as to diminish those
around him including me.
October 26, 1852,
I met up with Walt again today only
this time in a more comfortable manner, for he insisted that we loaf on the
grass together. I didn’t understand at
first, “loaf on the grass?” a waste of time it would seem to lazily recline on
the grassy earth. Yes, and so I loafed
on the grass with him, and he let me read a rough manuscript of his genius work
“Leaves of Grass”. The work is unique in
its very nature, full of contradictories that fit so nicely together. I found it to be quite nihilistic to some
degree, caring about nothing and everything simultaneously, elusive to grasp
yet comprehensible even for a child.
Some of my favorite lines include “They do not sweat and whine about
their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, no one is dissatisfied…
not one is demented with the mania of owning things, not one kneels to another
nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, not one is respectable or
industrious over the whole earth”. These
lines are powerful. Perhaps animals will
inherit the earth?
I feel like “Leaves of Grass”
challenges my perceptions of society.
From the little of it that I have read, Walt eloquently asserts that
“all truths wait in all things, they neither hasten their own delivery nor resist
it… logic and sermons never convince…”
Am I just an idealizer chasing my ideology? One truth leads to another and another and
yet another until it loses meaning and absoluteness in my interpretation no
matter how sincere I try to be. And I
want others to chase it with me. And I am no different from the preacher and
congressman who regurgitate their principles on life claiming that they know the
truth and possess the answers. The
things I believe in I hold to be true and right are the things I’ve been taught
since a very early age, and I suppose we were all taught and exposed to at
least one dominant creed to obey without questioning it. This is something, as the former black
Nashoba members assured, that brings us comfort in this cruel world, and helps
us live.
For all non-human animals this comfort
ultimately means the earth itself, which nurtures life like an infant in the
arms a mother, is the only thing they need to survive, nay, to live in
peace. They do not need humans;
conversely, we need them to survive. We need
their flesh to eat, the cow’s milk to drink, and their hide and fur to
fabricate and make useful to us. Without
them we would probably be extinct, and they would have the earth to themselves.
“Only what proves itself to every man
and woman is so, only what nobody denies is so”. How elusive these words are yet within reach
to grasp. To prove something is to tell
the truth in my mind. Is it not obvious
that the institution of slavery is a malicious cycle people have adopted,
holding on to it with the force of arms?
And isn’t it true that this same institution is breaking apart this
nation, yet people are inept to let go of it.
For the better part of my life I’ve dedicated my time and effort in
spreading my logic in an attempt to change society for the better, but still I cannot
convince every man and woman to accept my views, and even if I did somehow
convert the inconvertible it would still not be enough to change society,
because people must experience it for themselves. They must come to that realization that
slavery is fundamentally wrong, or that an equal opportunity for education for
men and women is a key element for the growth of individuals, society, and the
nation, or that women do deserve suffrage rights. Only through direct experience will the
individual want to change; it’s in that experience that truth lies in. This is something I’m beginning to
understand, and Walt, young as he is, knows and understands this as if he is
some kind of sage, yet I’m sure he would detest that word applied to him. I will still hold on to my deepest
convictions, for it makes up my perception of the world, but I will not let it
dictate me. Like the agnostic, I am prone
to asking questions to reach or not reach a satisfying conclusion. Thank you Walt for helping to make me aware
of myself.
November 11, 1852,
This shall be my last journal entry. I am ill, deteriorating in health after
collapsing on an icy staircase. I
expressed to Walt my interpretation of and sentiments regarding “Leaves of
Grass”. He neither approved nor disapproved
but nodded and smiled as if to say “you get it”. Unfortunately, I will not be here during the
time of its publication yet just having read the few pages is a reward in
itself. Goodnight sweet prince; I shall
see you on the other side.
