Artie Edwards
2.2K posts
Artie Edwards
@AEdwardsca
68 years old , queer and fun,the other pic is 21 years old,lol
Katılım Mayıs 2022
296 Takip Edilen7.5K Takipçiler
Dale Savage has died at 62 after suffering a stroke.
The former firefighter didn't begin his adult entertainment career until he was 50, proving it's never too late to embrace a new chapter. Friends and fans are remembering him as talented, warm and genuinely kind.
RIP ❤️
English
Wenn ein Femboy dir eine DM schickt, würdest du antworten? 🏳️⚧️🏳️🌈
Ja ⠀⃝
Nein ⠀⃝
Kommt drauf an ⃝
Deutsch
On the fourteenth of December, 1927, at three-forty in the afternoon, a thirty-six-year-old Black anthropologist named Zora Neale Hurston boarded a southbound train at Penn Station in New York City, bound for Mobile, Alabama. Her destination, on the far end of the journey, was a small all-Black settlement on the northern edge of Mobile called Africatown, which had been founded sixty-two years earlier by a group of freed slaves whose distinguishing characteristic was that they had been brought to the United States not in the documented eighteenth-century trade in human beings that had built the American South, but on the very last slave ship ever to make the Atlantic crossing — a private illegal smuggling vessel named the Clotilda, which had docked at Mobile in 1860, fifty-two years after the international slave trade had been outlawed by act of the United States Congress.
Hurston was traveling to Africatown to interview a man.
The man's name, in Mobile, was Cudjo Lewis. His name, in the small village in the Bantè region of present-day Benin where he had been born in approximately 1841, was Oluale Kossola. He had been captured, in his late teens, in a slaving raid conducted by warriors of the neighboring Kingdom of Dahomey on behalf of an Alabama-based illegal slave-trading consortium led by a wealthy Mobile shipbuilder named Timothy Meaher. He had been held for three weeks in a barracoon — a fortified stockade for captured Africans awaiting transport — in the West African port city of Ouidah. He had been shipped, with approximately one hundred and ten other captives, across the Atlantic in the hold of the Clotilda. He had been enslaved, in the Mobile area, for five years and six months. He had been freed by Union soldiers on the twelfth of April, 1865. He had been free, by the time Hurston knocked on his door, for sixty-two years.
He was the only person on earth, at that point in 1927, who could recount, in personal first-hand testimony, the experience of having been taken captive in Africa, held in a barracoon, transported across the Middle Passage, and sold into chattel slavery in the United States.
He was eighty-six years old.
He spoke an English heavily inflected by the West African languages he had grown up speaking and by the Alabama vernacular he had learned during his sixty-seven years in the United States. He had been interviewed, in the previous decade, by several other researchers. None of them, by their own subsequent acknowledgment, had succeeded in getting him to talk at length.
Hurston had brought peaches. She had brought ham. She had brought watermelon. She set them on his porch. She asked him who he was and how he had come to be a slave.
He told her.
She returned, over the next four years, repeatedly. She wrote, in 1931, a manuscript that consisted, almost entirely, of his own words in his own voice in his own English. She titled it Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo. She submitted it to a series of New York publishers in the early nineteen-thirties.
Every one of them rejected it.
The grounds for rejection, by the documented record of the correspondence she received, were not that the manuscript was insufficiently researched or inadequately written. The grounds were that she had refused to standardize Cudjo's English. The publishers wanted her to rewrite his speech in standard literary American prose. They explained that contemporary American readers would find the dialect difficult and that the book would not sell.
Hurston declined to revise. She believed, on the documented evidence of her notes and her correspondence, that the entire point of the project was that the man should be allowed to speak in his own voice, and that to standardize his English would be to silence him a second time.
The manuscript went into a safe deposit box.
Cudjo Lewis died, at his home in Africatown, on the seventeenth of July, 1935. He was approximately ninety-four years old. Zora Neale Hurston died, in a county welfare home in Fort Pierce, Florida, on the twenty-eighth of January, 1960. She was sixty-nine. The manuscript she had refused to revise was, by the time of her own death, in the archives of the Moorland-Spingarn Research Center at Howard University in Washington, D.C. It would sit there for the next fifty-eight years.
On the eighth of May, 2018, the Amistad imprint of HarperCollins published the manuscript, edited by a Hurston scholar named Deborah G. Plant, in the form Hurston had originally prepared it. The book entered the New York Times bestseller list at number two in its first week.
If her story moved you, drop one word in the comments — Zora, Cudjo, Barracoon, anything that comes to mind. Tap the like button so more people find this story. The page is small. Every reaction helps us keep telling stories like this one.
English
Despierto y mi foto con mi novio es viral 🏳️🌈
Que viva la comunidad LGBTIQ+
no context gay@nocontextgayy
mexico celebrates today’s win
Español
@eyesme80 Beautiful, the need for companionship is good across the ages. Reference the Spartan Greeks
English
