Black Lives Matter and my Slave Trading Ancestors
A personal reflection from Simon Robinson
11th June 2020
The horrific murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis at the hands of the police, the ensuing protests in the USA, UK and beyond and the appalling response of Donald Trump have been at the front and centre of my mind over recent days.
I’ve done a lot of reflection on my own life of and what I’ve done and what I’ve failed to do to challenge racism and discrimination in all its forms. Also, what we’ve done or not done as a society to right the wrongs of history.
It’s had a profound effect on me; it feels intensely personal. Yes, I’m a white man, but my friends and family include people of colour who I know have suffered discrimination, abuse and worse.
I’m also the descendant of slave traders. Their names were Frederick Philipse and Margaret Hardenbroeck. They were husband and wife.
In the 17th century they emigrated from the Netherlands to New Amsterdam (now New York) where they married and went on to became the richest merchant couple in the state. This wealth was built on slave trading with pirates operating out of Madagascar and Angola.
Five years ago I visited Philipsburg Manor in Sleepy Hollow, upstate New York, which has been preserved as a living-history museum to educate people about the forgotten history of slavery in the north of America. During my visit I was given a copy of a letter written by Frederick Philipse in 1695 to a pirate captain. I’m ashamed to say I’ve only fully read this letter in the last week.
The letter concerns a dispute between Philipse and Captain Adam Baldridge. Clearly Baldridge had complained that goods supplied (food and iron) and gone off / rusted in transit and he wanted this addressed. In response Philipse countered that the goods had been fine when dispatched.
He also complained to Baldridge that of “34 Negroes that you put aboard, there were 15 of them children, 3 years sucking”.
The true horror of peoples ripped from their homeland and families hit home in a way I find difficult to describe. Also the sheer matter-of-factness of Philipse. These children, still at their mother’s breast (if the mothers were also transported), were near worthless to this man. It read like a letter of complaint about damaged mail-order goods. The banality of evil is truly horrifying.
Now I’m quite well acquainted with Britain’s slave trading and colonial history and the facts of what happened. Ditto with slavery in America, its aftermath, the civil rights movement, Apartheid etc. Whilst books, museums, documentaries and films have helped me grasp the enormity of these crimes against humanity, the impact of reading those words has been profound.
I heard the same words of ‘I can’t breathe’ echoing up and down the centuries - from George Floyd pleading for his life under the knee of a white policeman - to the unknown Africans chained in the bowels of my ancestors’ ships. There’s a direct and undeniable link. It’s painful to know this. But it’s so important we do.
I don’t feel personal guilt for the actions of my ancestors, but I feel an immense responsibility to be part of the solution to addressing the legacy of centuries of slavery, colonialism and economic oppression and institutional racism and bias.
On Saturday’s ‘Any Answers’ on BBC Radio 4 a white participant asked ‘what can I do?’ to achieve positive change. A black caller said simply ‘be curious and be brave’.
I’ve been curious all my life. I now need to be brave.
Postscript
Since writing these words I dug out a back issue of Yes! magazine from 2015. The issue was entitled: Make it Right – Why healing history begins with the truth.
In it I re-read a powerful article by Sharon Leslie Morgan and Thomas Norman DeWolf in which the descendant of slaves (Sharon) and the descendant of slave traders (Thomas) talked openly about the healing they’ve embarked on. I urge you to read it.
Over and the above describing the personal journeys of Sharon and Thomas it describes the Strategies for Trauma Awareness and Resilience (STAR) Programme in which they both participated.
In the section entitled The Hidden Wound they quote poet, essayist, and environmentalist Wendell Berry’s 137-page essay on race and racism that goes by the same name:
He wrote: “[Racism] involves an emotional dynamic that has disordered the heart both of the society as a whole and of every person in the society.” He said, “I want to know, as fully and exactly as I can, what the wound is and how much I am suffering from it. And I want to be cured; I want to be free of the wound myself, and I do not want to pass it on to my children. … I know if I fail to make at least the attempt, I forfeit any right to hope that the world will become better than it is now.”
11th June 2020
The horrific murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis at the hands of the police, the ensuing protests in the USA, UK and beyond and the appalling response of Donald Trump have been at the front and centre of my mind over recent days.
I’ve done a lot of reflection on my own life of and what I’ve done and what I’ve failed to do to challenge racism and discrimination in all its forms. Also, what we’ve done or not done as a society to right the wrongs of history.
It’s had a profound effect on me; it feels intensely personal. Yes, I’m a white man, but my friends and family include people of colour who I know have suffered discrimination, abuse and worse.
I’m also the descendant of slave traders. Their names were Frederick Philipse and Margaret Hardenbroeck. They were husband and wife.
In the 17th century they emigrated from the Netherlands to New Amsterdam (now New York) where they married and went on to became the richest merchant couple in the state. This wealth was built on slave trading with pirates operating out of Madagascar and Angola.
Five years ago I visited Philipsburg Manor in Sleepy Hollow, upstate New York, which has been preserved as a living-history museum to educate people about the forgotten history of slavery in the north of America. During my visit I was given a copy of a letter written by Frederick Philipse in 1695 to a pirate captain. I’m ashamed to say I’ve only fully read this letter in the last week.
The letter concerns a dispute between Philipse and Captain Adam Baldridge. Clearly Baldridge had complained that goods supplied (food and iron) and gone off / rusted in transit and he wanted this addressed. In response Philipse countered that the goods had been fine when dispatched.
He also complained to Baldridge that of “34 Negroes that you put aboard, there were 15 of them children, 3 years sucking”.
The true horror of peoples ripped from their homeland and families hit home in a way I find difficult to describe. Also the sheer matter-of-factness of Philipse. These children, still at their mother’s breast (if the mothers were also transported), were near worthless to this man. It read like a letter of complaint about damaged mail-order goods. The banality of evil is truly horrifying.
Now I’m quite well acquainted with Britain’s slave trading and colonial history and the facts of what happened. Ditto with slavery in America, its aftermath, the civil rights movement, Apartheid etc. Whilst books, museums, documentaries and films have helped me grasp the enormity of these crimes against humanity, the impact of reading those words has been profound.
I heard the same words of ‘I can’t breathe’ echoing up and down the centuries - from George Floyd pleading for his life under the knee of a white policeman - to the unknown Africans chained in the bowels of my ancestors’ ships. There’s a direct and undeniable link. It’s painful to know this. But it’s so important we do.
I don’t feel personal guilt for the actions of my ancestors, but I feel an immense responsibility to be part of the solution to addressing the legacy of centuries of slavery, colonialism and economic oppression and institutional racism and bias.
On Saturday’s ‘Any Answers’ on BBC Radio 4 a white participant asked ‘what can I do?’ to achieve positive change. A black caller said simply ‘be curious and be brave’.
I’ve been curious all my life. I now need to be brave.
Postscript
Since writing these words I dug out a back issue of Yes! magazine from 2015. The issue was entitled: Make it Right – Why healing history begins with the truth.
In it I re-read a powerful article by Sharon Leslie Morgan and Thomas Norman DeWolf in which the descendant of slaves (Sharon) and the descendant of slave traders (Thomas) talked openly about the healing they’ve embarked on. I urge you to read it.
Over and the above describing the personal journeys of Sharon and Thomas it describes the Strategies for Trauma Awareness and Resilience (STAR) Programme in which they both participated.
In the section entitled The Hidden Wound they quote poet, essayist, and environmentalist Wendell Berry’s 137-page essay on race and racism that goes by the same name:
He wrote: “[Racism] involves an emotional dynamic that has disordered the heart both of the society as a whole and of every person in the society.” He said, “I want to know, as fully and exactly as I can, what the wound is and how much I am suffering from it. And I want to be cured; I want to be free of the wound myself, and I do not want to pass it on to my children. … I know if I fail to make at least the attempt, I forfeit any right to hope that the world will become better than it is now.”
It takes me back to the words of Dr Martin Luther King Jr:
‘No one is free until we are all free’