In The Shadow of the Slave Pits at Thomas Jefferson's Monticello

In the midst of the Corona Virus epidemic we have, by outward appearances, stumbled into yet another national crisis about race, a matter, a disease of our collective marrow that has never really been addressed. The truth is we have not stumbled into anything. It has always been here, embedded in our collective consciousness, willfully endorsed by our lack of action, our indifference, our silent acquiescence. 

Over the past three years, in our ongoing search for  the truth about American history, my wife Daria and I have visited Harpers Ferry, George Washington's Mount Vernon, Thomas Jefferson's Monticello, Andrew Jackson's Heritage Plantation in Nashville, Franklin Roosevelt's Presidential library in Hyde Park, the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library in Atlanta, Harry Truman's Winter White House in Key West, FL, and a host of Civil War battlefield sites during our visits to the East Coast, and to Nashville and Atlanta. It is truly a sobering experience to visit Monticello, in Charlottesville, Virginia. We were there 5 weeks after the riot in August 2017. 

Today I will focus on our visit to Thomas Jefferson's Monticello plantation, which sits high atop a steep hill overlooking Charlottesville below. It is truly an extraordinary piece of property. The Welcome Center, which sits at the base of the hill, not surprisingly, sells a wide variety of books by  and/or about Thomas Jefferson, as well as the usual shot glasses, buttons, and assorted trinkets available at most popular tourist areas. There is a theater there and a museum, in addition to the displays found at Monticello itself. The only way to access the famous structure at the top of the hill is by bus with a carefully controlled and monitored ticketing process that ensures visitor traffic does not overwhelm the guides on the property. The most upsetting feature of our visit to Monticello was the discovery that approximately two hundred yards away from the Welcoming Center is a cordoned-off area under shady trees where Jefferson's slaves were indiscriminately buried. In simple terms, this is a "slave pit" area where dead slaves were laid on top of one another, seemingly without ceremony or afterthought. Today there are some sort of scientific excavation efforts that are ongoing there, though I was unclear what the goals of these projects are. Meanwhile, on the shoulder of the hill known as Monticello sits the Jefferson burial ground. Jefferson desired that his gravestone note his three major accomplishments in life: he was the major author of the Declaration of Independence, the Founder of the University of Virginia, and the Third President of the United States. Jefferson's inner-graveyard guests includes Confederate veterans' markers, which is not surprising. This is Jefferson's history. This is our American history. Some of us today don't wish to visit the awful truth of Jefferson's slave pits, yet at the same time, we have no problem with celebrating Jefferson's genius of the Declaration of Independence, his brilliant design of Monticello, his inventions, his university, and his French wines. 

We fail to connect the slave pit reality and the achievements of the American people, that is, the economic and social progress of this country's past up to the present day is inexorably linked to the deprivation and exploitation of non-whites. Monticello is also making a genuine effort to elevate/illuminate the Sally Hemmings' chapter(s) of Jefferson's legacy. George Washington had his own slave pit(s) at Mt Vernon, the second picture below comes from that plantation. These reflections are not merely the ramblings of a bleeding heart liberal. They are the simple, naked, sometimes ugly truths of American history. I presume these thoughts may be feeding the anger, rage, and disgust of the descendants of Jefferson's slaves and millions of other slaves that followed, but I cannot know for certain. 

I reflect not so much as an apologist for mainstream America because that is not my intent or assigned role. I instead wish to acknowledge that the firm, increasingly vocal rejection of oppression by our fellow citizens and friends in America today--those whose skin color is different than my own--is legitimately, firmly, irrevocably grounded in our country's distant past. Our recent past. Our present.