By Eagle

Disclaimer: I am writing this article as an individual and any opinions expressed are mine and do not represent or express the opinions held by any organization I may represent.

The author is using an alias with the permission of The Forum’s editor-in-chief. Any inquiries regarding this article should be sent to forum@vermontlaw.edu

It is 4:12 a.m. I can’t sleep because my conscience is unsettled. The mural, located in Chase, on the second floor, is being removed. As we are in a pandemic and racial unrest continues, American society is setting a dangerous trend. Should we remove entities such as murals, statutes, or any resemblance of oppression because people are offended? This inquiry requires an individual, not to run away from history, but to grasp the full meaning of what The Underground Railroad: Vermont and the Fugitive Slave by Sam Kerson represents. It begs audiences (students, faculty, staff, and guests) to confront our racist past.

The first panel depicts enslavement in Africa. The opening scene shows Africans forced into slavery and sent to America against their will. The second scene illustrates slavery, Africans sold to their white counterparts. The third scene expresses the inhumane conditions many Africans experienced under the auspices of white supremacy. The fourth scene invokes the resilience “symbolized by both physical rebellion and the resurgence of African culture via drums, masks [,] and costumes.” There is likely no doubt that these images are not disturbing, offensive, and inaccurate depictions of black people. However, that’s probably the point. It is an erroneous depiction of many who identify as black and/or African American, but it is still a part of our history. It should be a reminder of who we are, as a nation, how far we have come, and the work still ahead.

As a black person, having attended school in the South, when I walked up the stairs of Chase Center, I was inspired by the image—encouraged to know that everyday people within my racial group strive to rebuke those racist images in various ways. Attending law school is one example. The mural was not offensive but transformative. As the artist explains, it “celebrates the efforts of black and white Americans in Vermont and throughout the United States to achieve freedom and justice.” The mural is unapologetic and likely not intended to be a palpable image. It begs anyone who sees it to have conversations and to be uncomfortable. It is politically incorrect but authentic. It inaccurately depicts blacks, paints slave master’s green (likely intended to de-emphasize their importance), and centers on the black experience. The mural is and should be a reminder of our history. No matter how horrific or the feeling it insights, it is our history. We have to live with those images in our heads and remember them as we become lawyers and policymakers.  

The trend of removing inherently racist entities from public view is dangerous. And the pressure to conform to public opinion is leading the way. How will other generations know about our past without attending a museum? History is not only within museums, but it’s all around us. On many college/university campuses across the United States. Again, should we remove all historical entities that “trigger” or “offend” people? For example, what about New York’s Statue of Liberty. She is a “living symbol of freedom around the world, and many view her everyday” (i.e., residents, tourists, onlookers, etc.). If people consider her imagine offensive, should we remove it too? Do you see the pattern? Our reaction to real and raw images, like the mural, should not be dismissed. Acting on emotions, guilt, and even pressure is a threat to our democracy and judgment. Think about the images you see every day that “offend” you, should it be removed too? The new cycle of emotionally charged historical erasure has begun.

Updated version posted at 1 p.m. on July 8, 2020 at the request of the author.