Blood Done Sign My Name by: Timothy B. Tyson

This is a book that I found quite disturbing. The story of one of the more graphic demonstrations of the failing of our American Justice system, this book is both horrifying, and fascinating at the same time. It presents the story of the murder of a young, black man, in his early 20's, the racial war that it started, and the town of Oxford, North Carolina -- a town that nearly self destructed in the aftermath.

This is a fantastic book, as an introduction to the Civil Rights movement in this country -- telling the story on both the national stage, and the personal lives simultaneously -- it offers an in depth look into the overall scope of the race wars that ensued in this country, and continue to rage in many places. Presented in a shifting format between the black perspective, and the white perspective -- the author has been able to present a story without one point of view overwhelming the other.
In 1970, Henry Marrow -- a quiet, unassuming family man had a fatal run in with a violent racist, and his sons. The result of this confrontation was a brutal murder in the middle of the street -- in the middle of the day. This act sparked a passionate struggle, that produced violence, and rabid hatred between the black, and the white societies of Oxford, North Carolina. Standing in the middle of this struggle was one minister, Reverend Tyson, and Ben Chavis, Henry's closest friend -- and the story that would play out in the national news, throughout the country. This became the catalyst of a lifelong pursuit for justice, on the part of Ben Chavis -- a man that ultimately rose to become the President of the NAACP.

This book is one that I found particularly disturbing. I have never understood the need to see the world through the eyes of color -- and it is troubling the number of people that feel any person's values can be determined by nothing more than the color of his skin. Further, I am troubled at the example this sets, that justice is not only capable of setting precedent based on color, but it is also politically, and racially driven. In the words of the author, "The actual history of the South too often rests in an unmarked grave, while the celebratory lies and politically convenient distortions march into immortality." I fear that this statement is more true than we will ever know -- and furthermore, I also fear that it is not a truth that is confined merely to the South.

This is a part of history that I have only just begun to study -- mainly because I find it so disturbing to me personal. Having grown up in a predominantly white community, and having come from an average white middle class home -- I would like to hope that this is violence that we, as a society have put behind us. But I know that the struggle for racial equality rages on -- and I find it heartbreaking that so many people are not able to see beyond something as minor as a color difference, to discover the true value of every human being within.