Set the World on Fire

by Keisha N. Blain

  What is also striking about the petition is the way Gordon and her supporters creatively evoked the language of American citizenship while making an unconventional request to renounce U.S. citizenship. Although many Americans turned to the growing welfare state for aid to maintain a livelihood in the United States, Gordon and her supporters were seeking aid to establish a home elsewhere. Importantly, Gordon and her supporters called themselves “Americans of African extraction” in their emigration petition to FDR and as “Ethiopians” or “Liberians” in other documents.127 This emphasis on an African identity underscores how PME activists imagined themselves as part of a diasporic polity even as they evoked the language of U.S. citizenship to frame their demands to the state.

  With this completed petition in hand in August 1933, Gordon and fellow PME leaders moved quickly to solicit signatures from PME members and other black residents who supported emigration to West Africa. Convinced that an impressive number of signatures would improve their chances of obtaining federal support, these activists initiated a vibrant grassroots nationalist movement, which would eventually evolve into a nationwide—and later, international—emigration campaign. Using the networks she had already developed as a former UNIA member in the city and through the process of grassroots organizing, Gordon popularized her ideas widely and circulated the emigration petition, which called for relocation to “Liberia or some other place or places in Africa where [blacks] could work out [their] own destiny independently of white people.”128

  The interest generated by Gordon’s ideas was so great that she arranged several mass meetings in Chicago to collect signatures from African Americans willing to leave the country—and to recruit new PME members. In one mass meeting, held in late August 1933, seventy volunteer secretaries—mostly women—were stationed at thirty-five tables at an old boxing ring to record the names and addresses of interested black Chicagoans. In the weeks that followed, Gordon and PME members continued to collect the names of emigration supporters across the U.S. Midwest and throughout various parts of the country. By October 1933, PME volunteers had collected the names and addresses of black men and women interested in emigration in neighboring states, including Indiana and Missouri. To expedite the process, PME volunteers asked each signatory to provide the names of family members and friends who might be interested and urged loved ones to sign the petition.129 This method of obtaining signatures proved to be successful. In only a matter of months, Gordon and her followers managed to collect an estimated 400,000 signatures from black men and women expressing a desire to emigrate from the United States to West Africa. On November 15, 1933, Gordon mailed a copy of the petition to FDR.130

  Gordon’s popular emigration petition, along with the PME-sponsored organizing efforts that made it possible, underscores the continued salience of black nationalist thought and praxis during the 1930s. Moreover, it reveals the crucial role women played in popularizing these ideas during the post-Garvey era. Against the backdrop of the Great Depression, Gordon’s PME offered an alternate space for black activists, mostly members of the working poor, to endorse the principles of black nationalism and agitate for black political rights. For these men and women, emigration to West Africa was a viable response to the continued subjugation, disenfranchisement, and economic disparity facing people of African descent in the United States. Similar to earlier black nationalists, Gordon and her supporters in the PME maintained the belief that federal support provided the most feasible means for making their dreams a reality. To be sure, these activists lacked the financial means to advance emigration on their own. But, even more, they reasoned that the U.S. government owed them some amount of financial support—as a form of reparations for centuries of forced labor by their ancestors. “We were torn from our original homes and kindred people against our will,” they carefully explained in the petition.131

  Not long after sending the petition to FDR in November 1933, Gordon received a two-sentence response from Jay Pierrepont Moffat, a U.S. diplomat and State Department official. He began, “The receipt is acknowledged, by reference from the White House . . . regarding the desire of a number of [N]egro citizens of the United States to emigrate to Liberia, and requesting the assistance of the United States Government to this end.” Without providing any additional explanation, Moffat went on to reject Gordon’s request in no uncertain terms: “It is regretted that at present this Government has no funds available for such a purpose.”132 Gordon was not surprised, but she was disappointed. Later, she argued that the U.S. government did have the means to help blacks relocate to West Africa. In a letter to one political ally, she argued, “Harry Hopkins, Federal Relief Director, [unveiled] a federal plan to spend an initial $25,000,000 in buying land to segregate the poor (presumably Negroes) in the arid West and in the sandy wastes of the cut-over lands of the North.” As such, she reasoned that the “the government disproves its own claim that it has no money for the purchase of land.”133 From her vantage point, New Deal funds could provide a viable financial source for aiding black men and women willing to leave the country.

  Although she likely viewed the State Department response as an obstacle, Gordon remained undeterred in her efforts to advance universal black liberation through emigration. Within weeks of receiving the letter, the black nationalist leader launched yet another pro-emigration petition, building on the growing momentum among her followers. Moreover, she began to make steps toward expanding her base of support. While most of Gordon’s activities during the early 1930s had been confined to Chicago and other areas of the U.S. North, the black nationalist “street scholar” decided to target the Jim Crow South—where she and most of her followers had resided before the Great Migration. In 1936, she appointed a national organizer to lead the charge. Her name was Celia Jane Allen.

  CHAPTER 3

  Organizing in the Jim Crow South

  IN 1937, CELIA JANE ALLEN arrived at the home of George Green, a black preacher and farmer, in Long, Mississippi—a small community located between Greenville and Leland on the Washington County and Sunflower County line.1 The sixty-two-year-old preacher might have been caught offguard by this new visitor, but Allen’s arrival was certainly intentional. She wanted a place to stay, but even more, she wanted to secure Green’s support for her political activities. Allen, a native Mississippian who had been residing in Chicago, traveled back to Mississippi on behalf of the Peace Movement of Ethiopia (PME) to promote emigration to West Africa. Her arrival in Mississippi coincided with a tumultuous period in the state’s history. Like other states in the former Confederacy, the lives of black men and women in Mississippi were dominated by Jim Crow segregation, exclusion, racial violence, and terror. By the early twentieth century, white mob violence was part of the fabric of black life in Mississippi. Described by one historian as the “most race-haunted of all American states,” Mississippi was the site of 476 recorded lynchings—representing 13 percent of the nation’s recorded lynchings—from 1889 to 1945.2 In this tense racial climate, Allen arrived at Green’s home in Long, Mississippi, intent on organizing rural black residents around the issue of emigration. Although Green was initially skeptical of Allen, he eventually conceded and allowed the activist to stay in his home.3

  In the ensuing months, Allen went on the mission to establish local branches of the PME in Long and later in Matherville—a remote plantation community in southeastern Mississippi a few miles away from the Alabama border on the Clarke County and Wayne County lines.4 Later recounting her activities, Allen noted that she was “successful in getting many thousands to heed the call and sign their names.” “Many places I was in danger, and was advised not to mention to the people about going to Africa,” she continued, “but I never ceased to plead with them and was successful to leave the South without any trouble.”5 By her own account, she managed to secure more than four thousand signatures from black residents in Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri during the 1930s.6 In 1942, in a letter to one political al
ly, she claimed to have collected over a million signatures of black residents who were willing and ready to abandon life in the United States for the prospect of a better one in West Africa.7

  Allen’s organizing activities in the Deep South were part of the PME’s strategy after their failed petition to the Roosevelt administration in 1933. In the years after the FDR petition, PME founder Mittie Maude Lena Gordon and her supporters began to extend their political activities to the South, specifically targeting rural black sharecroppers. In 1936, Gordon appointed Allen as one of the PME’s national organizers sent to organize southern blacks in rural areas. From 1937 to 1942, Allen led a grassroots black nationalist movement in Mississippi and in neighboring states—advocating for Pan-African unity, economic self-sufficiency, and political self-determination during a period of economic instability. Drawing upon the southern black nationalist tradition—popularized by Bishop Henry McNeal Turner of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, Tuskegee Institute founder Booker T. Washington, and others—Allen called on impoverished black men and women in the region to set their sights on Liberia, where PME leaders had received some assurances that relocation would be welcomed.

  Deploying black nationalist theory and rhetoric, including the tenets of black political self-determination, racial pride, and economic self-sufficiency, Allen worked within the organizing tradition as she attempted to garner support for her cause. Centered on transforming the political consciousness of individuals in order to build greater participation in civic and political life, the organizing tradition, as opposed to the emphasis on large-scale and short-term public events known as the mobilizing tradition, represented the bottom-up, community-based political activism that was vital to the development of local leaders. Reflecting the grassroots and community-based tradition of struggle, the organizing tradition rested upon a “developmental style of politics,” which allowed for identifying and nurturing local leaders.8 This philosophy undergirded Allen’s activities in Mississippi during the 1930s and 1940s as she worked to galvanize rural black men and women and advance black nationalist politics.

  FIGURE 7. State of Mississippi. Map created by Alice Thiede.

  With the focus on building relationships and developing local leaders, Allen led a pro-emigration campaign in the U.S. South, which she envisioned as a viable solution to the social, economic, and political challenges facing black men and women in the United States and across the African diaspora. Her political ideas, however, were far more complex. Embracing a biological conception of race, Allen pursued an unlikely political alliance with Mississippi Senator Theodore G. Bilbo, a well-known white supremacist who actively supported racial separatism—and, by extension, black emigration. Recognizing his influence in the state during this period, Allen sought out Bilbo’s support for her political activities and imagined that she might be able to use her ties to the senator to advance the movement. To that end, Allen tried, though unsuccessfully, to obtain Senator Bilbo’s aid to curb white mob violence—for the purpose of rallying support among black sharecroppers interested in emigration.

  Allen’s story sheds new light on the range and complexity of black women’s activism in the Jim Crow South, shifting the focus from local struggles for voting and citizenship rights. While many southern black women of various economic backgrounds were actively involved in mainstream civil rights organizations and women’s clubs, others found a space in black nationalist organizations like the PME in which to agitate for black political and economic rights.9 Allen’s efforts to organize rural black men and women in Mississippi and in other nearby states underscore the continued salience and influence of black nationalism in the Jim Crow South during the 1930s and 1940s. Significantly, Allen’s activities highlights the crucial role women played in sustaining black nationalist politics and reveals how these women strategically adapted their actions and ideological messages to fit the local settings in which they worked.

  Celia Jane Allen’s Early Years

  Similar to many working-class black women living during the early twentieth century, Celia Jane Allen left no personal archives and few writings. She was born in Mississippi—the specific location is unknown—and, during the first wave of the Great Migration, relocated to Chicago, where she resided at 442 Bowen Avenue.10 Mittie Maude Lena Gordon and other PME leaders who worked alongside Allen referred to her as “Mrs. Allen,” but since there is no record of a previous unmarried name—or, for that matter, a Mr. Allen—they may have referred to her as “Mrs. Allen” out of respect and because of her age. The only surviving photo of Allen suggests that she might have been around forty years old during the late 1930s (see Figure 8).11 Very little else about Allen’s personal life is known.

  FIGURE 8. Executive Council of the Peace Movement of Ethiopia, including Mittie Maude Lena Gordon (front row, center) and Celia Jane Allen (front row, center-right). Earnest Sevier Cox Papers, Box 39, 1821–1973, Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Library, Duke University, Durham, N.C.

  Although Allen disclosed few details about her personal life in her correspondence and interactions with others, census records offer some clues. Curiously, no one by the surname “Allen” appears in census records for Chicago during this period—who also fits all of the details Allen provided in her writings. Though multiple individuals with the same name resided in Chicago, they neither resided on Bowen Avenue nor had a birthplace listed as Mississippi. In 1940, when census takers arrived at 442 Bowen Avenue in Cook County, Chicago, they encountered a thirty-five-year-old African American woman by the name of Ruth Dorsey. Born in Mississippi in 1905, Dorsey had relocated to Chicago sometime during the mid to late 1920s. She arrived in the city during the Great Migration when thousands of other African Americans abandoned life in the Jim Crow South.12 While residing in Chicago with her mother and her husband, Frank, Ruth Dorsey, like countless other black women in urban areas, worked in domestic service.13

  During the early 1930s, Dorsey lost her job as a domestic worker and remained unemployed until 1940.14 Her experience mirrored those of other black women residing in Chicago and other cities. By January 1931, more than a quarter of all employed black women residing in urban areas lost their jobs. Though Dorsey admitted receiving some type of income—most likely federal relief—in 1940, her financial situation was probably still dire. Federal funds provided minimal relief for African Americans, who received less than their fair share. The Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA), which spent $4 billion primarily in direct financial aid for the needy, extended more funds to white Americans than black Americans. New Deal policies, which promised to improve socioeconomic conditions for all Americans, ultimately offered to African Americans a “raw deal.”15 For black women, the extremely limited job opportunities during the economic crisis and rampant racial inequalities in federal relief programs created a dismal atmosphere. Some black women in the urban North participated in “slave markets,” accepting extremely low pay for domestic work.

  Although Celia Jane Allen’s living arrangements are unclear, her ability to use Dorsey’s address for the purpose of receiving mail during the 1930s and 1940s suggests that the two women may have been related, intimately involved, or otherwise well acquainted. It is also likely that Allen was a boarder (or lodger) in Dorsey’s apartment even though Allen was not present when census takers arrived at the home in 1940. While the full circumstances surrounding Allen’s early life in Chicago remain a mystery, surviving records reveal that she became a member of the PME sometime in 1933. During the economic and political upheavals of the Depression, Gordon’s PME provided a significant platform for working-class blacks in the city and other parts of the country to engage in nationalist politics.16 With local chapters of the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) in a state of decline, the PME emerged as the largest black nationalist organization in Chicago.

  Like many of the black men and women who joined the PME, Allen was especially drawn to the organization because of its emigr
ationist platform and commitment to economic self-sufficiency and racial separatism. Allen insisted, “I want to do all that I can do in the fight in the helping to provide ways and means for the [N]egroes to be immigrated to Africa from whence we came.” “We can only plead to the gods of this country to send us to Africa,” she continued, “where we can work and make a living and be a pure black race.”17 Allen’s comments capture her commitment to racial separatism, her Pan-African vision, and her sustained belief that emigration was a vehicle for realizing black unity and bolstering black political and economic self-determination. For Allen and the thousands of men and women who joined the PME, emigration to West Africa appeared to be a logical response to the racial hatred that permeated much of the nation and a first step toward building better livelihoods during a global economic crisis.

  By 1937, Allen became one of the PME’s key recruiters in the U.S. South. Gordon and other members of the PME’s executive council identified Allen as the ideal candidate to facilitate this process—perhaps because Allen was familiar with the area or had volunteered to go. The transient nature of Allen’s life suggests that the activist enjoyed a mobility that made it possible for her to be an effective organizer. As a national organizer, Allen was expected to be away from home for extended periods of time, and she was also expected to travel frequently throughout the Jim Crow South. If Allen was married or, at the very least, had familial ties to Chicago, the decision would have been a difficult one to make. Moreover, as an organizer, she received little financial support from the PME. By one account, the organization provided $5 to cover traveling expenses, but Allen ultimately bore the brunt of the financial costs.18 The personal sacrifices and financial commitment associated with Allen’s political organizing activities might have been deterrents. Even more, the decision to return to Mississippi must have caused Allen some anxiety. Allen’s few surviving letters capture her sense of fear as she traveled throughout the South to recruit new members and promote the message of black emigration. Naturally, she worried that her life would be in danger, and with limited financial resources, she had no clear sense of how her basic necessities would be met.19 Her unexpected arrival at Reverend Green’s home in Mississippi underscores the uncertainty associated with her political activities during this period. Notwithstanding her fears and anxieties, Allen remained committed to the task of promoting black emigration in rural black communities in the Jim Crow South.