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Reflection on Anne Braden
By Vincent Harding When Rosemarie and I began our work in the southern freedom movement in the fall of 1961, Anne Braden was well known to the movement community. Her powerful book, The Wall Between, had been published three years earlier, telling the story of how Anne and her husband, Carl, had shared a dangerous and courageous decision with an African American couple, Andrew and Charlotte Wade. The Wades, who were friends of the Bradens, needed more adequate housing for their growing family, and were ready to challenge Louisville's segregated housing practices. In 1954, Anne and Carl purchased a house in a segregated white community and immediately re-sold it to the Wades, bringing down the wrath of local white supremacists who used legal and extralegal weapons to threaten both couples. In the atmosphere of the south at that time, Rose and I knew that Anne and Carl were considered "traitors" to the racist white "way of life" of the region and that they were targeted for physical, juridical, economic and social retaliation. We also knew that the Braden's progressive political beliefs and associations had left them open to one of the Cold War's major weapons against progressive, courageous, white people who were working to break down segregation and build a new society beyond the walls of racial separation and in spite of the threats of white terrorism. That status-quo weapon was called "red-baiting", labeling people like the Bradens as "communists" and "communist sympathizers," warning potential allies against associating with them. By the time we moved into Mennonite House (a combination freedom movement center and Mennonite Church-sponsored interracial voluntary service center) in Atlanta, where Rose and I were co-directors, Carl Braden had been imprisoned on a charge of "sedition" against the state of Kentucky for the house sale. Some people in the freedom movement were trying to decide how best to respond to the charges of "communism" being leveled against the Bradens. As Anne traveled through the south and around the country, telling the story of their struggle for justice -- which combined Civil Rights and Civil Liberties -- and seeking to rally support, we eventually invited her to spend some time at Mennonite House. In a sense we had established Mennonite House for the Anne Bradens of the world. In addition to the volunteers who lived at the house and worked in various social service and civil rights organizations in Atlanta, we wanted our doors to be open to those workers for a just and compassionate society who needed a place to rest, to find community, to heal their wounds and to share their stories -- and to break bread with us at the large round table we had built for the beloved community. On one of her trips to Atlanta -- perhaps it was one where she was requesting a statement of support for Carl's freedom from our friend, Martin Luther King, who lived around the corner -- we met Anne for the first time. As we sat together with others and later as the three of us shared our stories alone, Rosemarie and I knew we had met a sister, and we knew that we were meant to hold onto each other, both in spite of and because of the attacks that were constantly waged against her. On deep levels, we felt the sense of loneliness that sometimes seemed to surround her, and we were especially grateful and pleased when Martin King resisted many contrary pressures and told Anne he would allow his name to be used in a petition on behalf of Carl. Beyond that initial coming together at Mennonite House we shared many other sittings and sharings and workings together with Anne Braden. Our mutual deep love and respect for Ella J. Baker, that great mother/teacher of the movement, offered occasions for us to be together, especially as we worked with Ms. Baker's magnificent band of young, nonviolent warriors in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. We were constantly impressed by the way in which these two extraordinary women of the south cared for and about each other, sharpened and challenged each other, and helped us anticipate the world we were creating together. Over the years, through the pain and sorrow of the illness and death of Anne's young daughter, and then the passing of her husband, Carl, Rosemarie and I sensed the strengthening of our bond with Anne. Learning from Anne's calm wisdom as the movement community went through the necessary trauma and necessary growth of Black Power and Black Consciousness, we continued to recognize the ongoing emergence of a woman of great wisdom and power. So when we conceived of the Veterans of Hope Project, we knew that Ann needed to be one of our earliest interviewees, partly as a radiant announcement of the liberating truth that none of us needs to remain locked in the prison of our past if we are willing to move with audacious courage toward the freedom that awaits us. All of our shared history and hope seemed to come together when I received this note from Anne, shortly after the passing of Rosemarie:
Dear Vincent, We are so grateful for Anne's life, for her witness and for her continuing example to the generations coming on.
Vincent Harding, Co-founder and Chairperson |
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