“Remembering and Honoring John Brown”
Commentary by Black Kos Editor Denise Oliver Velez
While scrolling through my Bluesky feed yesterday, I came across a post that resonated deeply:
“Had I … interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the so-called great … every man in this court would have deemed it an act worthy of reward.” — John Brown
This day marks a somber anniversary: on December 2, 1859, John Brown, a resolute abolitionist, was executed. His actions, though rooted in a failed raid on Harper’s Ferry, reverberated profoundly across the socio-political landscape of the United States, pushing the nation closer to the brink of civil war.
According to an article from West Virginia Public Broadcasting, John Brown was hanged for treason in Charles Town following his raid six weeks earlier. His endeavor, designed to liberate enslaved individuals by seizing a federal armory, was met with brutal opposition. Despite its failure, the event catalyzed a national response, casting Brown as both a hero in the North and a villain in the South. His execution stirred fears of an impending civil conflict, setting a stage for the events to come.
The context surrounding Brown’s final moments was tense. Leading up to his execution, rumors of potential uprisings echoed in both Northern and Southern territories. Virginia troops were mobilized to secure the location of his hanging, including none other than Major Thomas Jackson, who would go on to be known as “Stonewall” in the war that followed.
As he approached the gallows, Brown handed a note to a friend, declaring, “I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land can never be purged away but with blood.” A chilling foretelling that would soon manifest in the chaos of the Civil War, just 16 months later.
Brown’s legacy is complex and layered, one I grappled with growing up in the Midwest. My white grandmother and Black grandfather spoke of him with a mix of admiration and reverence. Their marriage in Kansas was fraught with challenges rooted deeply in racial prejudice, exemplifying the era’s tensions—even though they faced no legal restrictions as the state had not instituted discriminatory laws against interracial marriage.
Though Brown’s life ended in Virginia, he was born in Connecticut and later found his final resting place in upstate New York, a fact often overlooked in historical narratives. The John Brown Farm State Historic Site in North Elba, New York, serves as a memorial to his life and the ideals he fought for. This site is a poignant reminder of a man who believed in the violent upheaval of an unjust system.
As I delved into Brown’s story, I stumbled upon an insightful piece on Medium by Nwenna Kai titled “John Brown, the Real White Ally.” This article argues that Brown should serve as a model for contemporary allies, particularly for white individuals looking to support Black liberation. His actions, Kai writes, stemmed from a profound understanding of the need for radical change—a change that would not come without sacrifice.
Brown grew up in an intensely anti-slavery environment, driven by a sense of moral duty. His life was punctuated by pivotal moments, like attending clandestine meetings and writing a radical constitution aimed at eradicating slavery. Ultimately, his raid on Harper’s Ferry was a desperate attempt to ignite a rebellion among the enslaved, promising arms and freedom. It is a brutal truth that he believed such a weighty cause required bloodshed.
Brown’s ideology raises compelling questions for modern discussions about allyship. Do contemporary allies recognize the sacrifices necessary for true solidarity? His last words resonate through history, underscoring the understanding that significant societal change often requires commitment and, at times, confrontation.
Speaking of legacy, New York State holds various tributes to Brown, including several statues across the U.S. Unfortunately, one in Kansas City has been the victim of vandalism, a stark reminder of the divisive opinions surrounding Brown’s life and legacy.
As I explored Brown’s history further, I encountered documentaries that delve into the multiple layers of his life, from his early anti-slavery activities to his radicalization and ultimately to his martyrdom. Each narrative reveals aspects of his character, illuminating his complicated relationships with prominent figures like Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass, both of whom had their own views about his methods and ideologies.
Brown’s first meeting with Douglass, a fellow abolitionist, occurred in Massachusetts, sparking a bond that would be both collaborative and contentious. Their discussions illuminated the differing philosophies regarding how best to combat the atrocity of slavery. Douglass, initially an advocate for non-violent resistance, found himself increasingly swayed by Brown’s fervent belief in armed rebellion as a necessary path to liberation.
The relationship shares resonance with many contemporary dialogues on activism. It reminds us of the nuanced positions individuals may hold, even those theoretically aligned under the same cause. Interestingly, documents from the National Park Service detail Brown and Tubman’s meeting—highlighting their shared vision for freedom despite Tubman’s unfortunate inability to join Brown’s final raid due to illness.
Moreover, the refrain from the song “John Brown’s Body” bears witness to how his story evolved over time, becoming a rallying cry for Union soldiers during the Civil War. Its melodies and lyrics transformed alongside the shifting attitudes toward abolition and equality during wartime, making it a powerful cultural artifact. Historian Chandra Manning describes how the song, while introspectively about Brown, became a means for soldiers in the Union Army to articulate their own struggles and beliefs regarding liberation.
The complex tapestry of John Brown’s life, from his fervent abolitionism to his fraught relationships and the lasting impact of his actions, continues to inspire debates about morality, justice, and reform in America. Through various lenses—historical, cultural, and personal—we can strive to understand not just the man but the broader implications of his legacy and what it means to commit to allyship today.
