\n\t\t\t\tRead Cara’s stories\t\t\t<\/a><\/p>\n\t\t\tCara is an Edward R. Murrow and National Association of Black Journalists award-winning reporter from East St. Louis, Illinois. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, Time magazine, NPR, and other outlets nationwide. Her reporting trip to the Missouri Bootheel in August 2020 launched the \u201cSilence in Sikeston\u201d project. She is a producer on the documentary and the podcast\u2019s host.\t\t<\/p>\n
\n\t\tIn Conversation With \u2026\t<\/h3>\n
\tAiesha Lee
\n\tAssistant professor of counselor education, Penn State<\/p>\n
\t\t\t\t\tclick to open the transcript\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n
\t\t\t\t\t\tTranscript: Hush, Fix Your Face\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n
Editor\u2019s note<\/strong>: If you are able, we encourage you to listen to the audio of \u201cSilence in Sikeston,\u201d which includes emotion and emphasis not found in the transcript. This transcript, generated using transcription software, has been edited for style and clarity. Please use the transcript as a tool but check the corresponding audio before quoting the podcast.\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> A lynching isn\u2019t an isolated, singular act.\u00a0<\/p>\nThe violence \u2014 and the silence around it \u2014 was a deliberate, community-wide lesson meant to be passed on.\u00a0<\/p>\n
And passed down.\u00a0<\/p>\n
[BEAT]\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> In Sikeston, Missouri, a 25-year-old soon-to-be father named Cleo Wright was lynched by a white mob.\u00a0<\/p>\nIt happened in 1942. But you didn\u2019t have to be there, or even born yet, to get the message.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Larry McClellon: I grew up here in Sikeston, Missouri. My age \u2026 77.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> That\u2019s community elder Larry McClellon.\u00a0<\/p>\nHe was born two years after Cleo Wright\u2019s body was dragged across the railroad tracks to the Black<\/em> side of town.\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: Back in the old days, when dark comes, you don\u2019t want to be caught over here after 6 o\u2019clock. You want to be on this side of the tracks.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nI didn\u2019t cross the line. Because I knew what was waiting. I knew what time it was here in Sikeston, Missouri.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> I\u2019m Cara Anthony. I\u2019m a journalist. I\u2019ve been visiting Sikeston for years to work on a documentary film and podcast about the lynching of Cleo Wright.\u00a0<\/p>\nAnd the police killing in 2020 of another young, Black father, Denzel Taylor.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Larry McClellon: All these Black men are getting shot down, losing their life.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Cleo and Denzel, killed some 80 years apart. In the same city.\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: They do not want to talk about that subject. That\u2019s a hush-hush.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> In this episode of the podcast, we\u2019re exploring how that \u201chush\u201d hurts the community. And the way it hurts people\u2019s health.\u00a0<\/p>\nHere\u2019s an example: Larry says it\u2019s hard to feel safe in your hometown when Black men are killed and nearly everyone looks the other way.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Growing up, Larry had a lot of questions about Cleo.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Larry McClellon: I used to ask Mom. You know, \u201cWhat is this with this man that supposedly, uh, got lynched?\u201d And she told me, \u201cHey, you stay away from that. \u2026 Don\u2019t you be asking no questions about Cleo Wright because that was just a no-no.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Why was that a no-no?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: Because she\u2019s afraid for me that they would probably take me out and do something to me. Maybe bodily harm or something like that.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> \u201cThey\u201d being white neighbors.\u00a0<\/p>\nDespite those lessons, Larry became an outspoken activist for racial justice and police reform in Sikeston. He founded an organization here called And Justice for All.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Being vocal has come at a price, he says.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Larry McClellon: Somebody called me and said, \u201cUh, Mr. Larry, your building is on fire.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nSo, I didn\u2019t even really hang the phone up real good. I just jumped up and come up the highway.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> It was April 2019 \u2014 Larry rushed to the headquarters of And Justice for All.\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: I could see the flame was high as anything in Sikeston, might as well say. So, I gets up there and, uh, fire burning. So, all the fire department get out there pouring water and everything.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> The building was a total loss.\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: The building was set on fire. That\u2019s what, that\u2019s what happened.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nWho would come in and destroy something like that?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> The police report says it was arson, but nothing really came of the investigation. Larry suspects it was a targeted attack \u2014 retaliation for his activism, for speaking out. Retaliation that could continue.\u00a0<\/p>\nLarry McClellon: I got 4 acres over there. A lot of trees and so forth. And some of my own people, they make jokes out of it sometime, like, \u201cMan, you going to be hanging from one of those trees down there, or somebody\u2019s going to set over in those bushes with a high-powered rifle and going to shoot you when you walk out the door or shoot you when you pull up.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> And still, Larry\u2019s decided he\u2019s not going to hold his tongue.\u00a0<\/p>\nBecause keeping quiet causes its own trouble, its own hurt and pain.\u00a0<\/p>\n
This is \u201cSilence in Sikeston.\u201d The podcast all about finding the words to say the things that go unsaid.\u00a0<\/p>\n
From WORLD Channel and KFF Health News and distributed by PRX.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Episode 2: \u201cHush, Fix Your Face.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Larry\u2019s keeping on with his work in Sikeston. But all those warnings from his mother decades ago to keep quiet about Cleo\u2019s lynching left a mark.\u00a0<\/p>\nI called up Aiesha Lee to talk about this. She\u2019s a licensed mental health professional and also an assistant professor at Penn State.\u00a0<\/p>\n
One of the first things she wanted me to know is that silence has been used as a tool of systemic oppression in America for a very long time.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiesha Lee says lynching \u2014 and the community terror it caused \u2014 was part of a wider effort to impose white supremacy.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiesha Lee: This is a design. Let me be clear, this is, it was very much designed for us to be these subservient, submissive people who do not ask questions, who do not say anything, and just do as they\u2019re told.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> One of Aiesha\u2019s areas of expertise is how racism can impact physical and mental health \u2014 across <\/em>generations. She sees signs of it in her clients every day.\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha Lee: No one actually comes in and says, \u201cHey, I\u2019m dealing with intergenerational trauma. Can you help me?\u201d Right?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: I will have to admit, I\u2019ve been very skeptical about that term, what that means, because, in my family, it was always this thing of like, \u201cWe\u2019re good over here. Everything\u2019s OK.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha Lee: I love what you just said. And, and for me, as a mental [health] professional, I get really cautious when using, even using the word \u201ctrauma.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nPart of the, the generational legacy of Black families is we don\u2019t talk about our problems, we just kind of roll through them, we deal with them, we\u2019re strong, and we just keep it moving forward, right?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nIt\u2019s protection. It is \u201cLet me teach you the ways of the world according to us\u201d or for us, right? And for us, we need to keep our mouth shut. We can\u2019t ask any questions. We can\u2019t make any noise, because if we do, you\u2019re going to get the same, or worse than, you know, others.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> My parents. Grandparents. My great-grandparents. Their experiences with racial violence \u2014 and what they had to do to stay safe \u2014 shaped me.\u00a0<\/p>\nStuffing down injustice and pain is a tried-and-true way to cope. But Aiesha says holding hurt in hurts.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiesha Lee: It\u2019s almost like every time we\u2019re silent, it\u2019s like a little pinprick that we, we do to our bodies internally.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> She says over time those wounds add up.\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha Lee: After so long, um, those little pinpricks turn up as heart disease, as cancer, as, you know, all these other ailments.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Feeling unsafe, being that vigilant all the time. What can that do to someone\u2019s body?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha Lee: Imagine every time you walk out of the door, you\u2019re tightening your body, you\u2019re tensing up your body, right? And you\u2019re holding on to it for the entire day until you come home at night. What do we think would happen to our bodies as a result?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> A study from UCLA found experiences with racism and discrimination correlated with higher levels of inflammation in the bodies of Black and Hispanic people. It affected their immune system, their gut.\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha says always being on edge can rewire how the brain deals with stress.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiesha Lee: That\u2019s what that hypervigilance does. That hypervigilance causes our bodies to tense up so that we can\u2019t fully breathe.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Yeah, that\u2019s exhausting. And as you were talking about it, like, I even feel my body just being tight as you are speaking about these things.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> If you don\u2019t deal with the emotional stuff, Aiesha says, it can live in your body.\u00a0<\/p>\nAiesha Lee: Arthritis, fibromyalgia, high blood pressure \u2026<\/strong>\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: <\/strong>\u2026 and ripple through families as intergenerational trauma.\u00a0<\/p>\nThat makes me wonder about my dad\u2019s high blood pressure.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My mom\u2019s chronic pain.\u00a0<\/p>\n
About my own trouble sleeping.\u00a0<\/p>\n
[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Despite endless conversations with my parents about this work \u2014 somehow, I was months and months into reporting on racial violence in Sikeston before I learned new details about a death in my own family.\u00a0<\/p>\nWilbon Anthony: I enjoy reading about history where, you know, my people come from.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> My dad, Wilbon Anthony, knew the story for nearly a decade, but kept it to himself.\u00a0<\/p>\nReally, I shouldn\u2019t have been surprised. My whole life I was taught in big and small ways that usually it\u2019s better to stay silent.\u00a0<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a risk \u2014 to self \u2014 when you speak out.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I\u2019m 37 years old \u2014 plenty grown now \u2014 but it feels like the \u201cadults\u201d have always tiptoed around the story of Leemon Anthony, my great-uncle on my father\u2019s side.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Leemon served in the military during World War II. Family members remember him as fun-loving and outgoing.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was told that Leemon died in a wagon-and-mule accident in 1946. But at family reunions, sometimes I\u2019d overhear details that were different.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Wilbon Anthony: There was a hint there was something to do with it about the police, but it wasn\u2019t much.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> My dad knew that the stories he\u2019d heard about Uncle Leemon\u2019s death were incomplete. That missing <\/strong>piece left him feeling undone.\u00a0<\/p>\nWilbon Anthony: Later in life, I started researching it. I just thought about it one day and, uh, just said, \u201cOh, see if it was something about this.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> He called up family members, dug through newspaper archives online, and searched ancestry websites. Eventually, he found Leemon\u2019s death certificate.\u00a0<\/p>\nTo show me what he found, Dad and I sat in his home office. He pulled up the death certificate on his computer. Leemon was 29.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Wilbon Anthony: It says, \u201cShot by police, resisting arrest.\u201d<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nWell, no one ever, I never heard this in my, uh, whole life.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nThen item 21, it lists the causes of death: accident or suicide or homicide, and the list says that item is homicide.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: OK, OK, um, that\u2019s a lot. I need to pause.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Shot by police.\u00a0<\/p>\nEven now, I only have bits and pieces of the story, mostly from whispers from my family.\u00a0<\/p>\n
There was a wagon accident.\u00a0<\/p>\n
One of my older cousins says a local white woman saw it and called the police. An article published in The Jackson Sun quoted Leemon\u2019s father saying that Leemon had been \u201crestless\u201d and \u201call out of shape\u201d since he returned home from the war.\u00a0<\/p>\n
What we do<\/em> know is that the police showed up. And they killed Leemon.\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> When I learned about my Uncle Leemon\u2019s death, when I got slammed by that grief and anger, I called my Aunt B \u2014 my dad\u2019s sister Bernice Spann \u2014 and told her what my dad had found.\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: OK, I just sent you the death certificate, um, just so you can \u2026<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: What does it say, his death, how he died?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: It says homicide, and that he was shot by the police.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: Wow.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Yeah. Yeah.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: And they said \u201chomicide\u201d?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Right.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: And nobody was charged?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: No charges.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nSo, what are you thinking right now?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: I\u2019m heartbroken.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Yeah. Yeah.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: I mean, that\u2019s close. That is not \u2026 it\u2019s an uncle.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: That\u2019s your uncle. That\u2019s my great-uncle. That\u2019s your uncle. Yeah.\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: Well, that\u2019s my uncle. And he died and nobody fought.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Yeah.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: Nobody fought for a resolution \u2019cause nobody \u2026 everybody felt powerless.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: <\/strong>Even now there\u2019s so much silence in our family around Leemon\u2019s death.\u00a0<\/p>\nBernice Spann: I think there\u2019s something in our DNA that still makes us scared to talk about it. I need for us to look at it. I don\u2019t know. Does it make sense? And maybe you\u2019re the one who, it\u2019s time for you to look at it.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: <\/strong>So, that\u2019s what I\u2019m doing.\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> This storytelling \u2014 this journalism \u2014 is about what\u2019s at stake for our health, and our community, and loved ones when we\u2019re silent in the face of racial violence \u2014 and the systemic racism that allows it to exist.\u00a0<\/p>\nSo on one reporting trip to Sikeston, I asked my family to take the ride with me.\u00a0<\/p>\n
We loaded into a van.\u00a0<\/p>\n
[Cara\u2019s mom hums in the background.]<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\nAnd during the drive from Illinois to southeastern Missouri, my mom hummed hymns, while my daughter, Lily, napped and inhaled snacks.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cotton is still king in Sikeston. It\u2019s a huge part of the town\u2019s economy, and culture, and history. So just before we got to town, we stopped at a cotton field.\u00a0<\/p>\n
[Car door shuts.]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: OK, Lily, come here.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Lily was just 5 back then.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: What is this? What are we looking at right now?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLily: Cotton.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: <\/strong>Lily was excited, but when I turned around, my dad, Wilbon, looked watchful.\u00a0<\/p>\nWary.\u00a0<\/p>\n
As for lots of Black Americans, cotton\u2019s a part of our family\u2019s history.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cara Anthony: OK, Dad. Come over here. So, Dad, Lily just said that cotton looks like cotton candy and potatoes \u2019cause it looks fluffy. When you look out at this field, what do you see?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nWilbon Anthony: Well, I see. First, I see a lot of memories. I remember \u2026 picking cotton as a kid. Actually, I can remember waiting on my parents while they were in the fields picking cotton. And then I remember a lot of days of hard work.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nSo, yeah, I \u2026 yeah, I have a lot, a lot of memories about cotton.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> My mom has memories, too. As a little girl in Tennessee, around Lily\u2019s age, my mom was already working in a field like this.\u00a0<\/p>\nDays and days hunched over. Carrying heavy bales, working until her hands were sore.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My mom\u2019s still in grief about the violence and punishing labor \u2014 and lost opportunity \u2014 so tightly woven into all this cotton.\u00a0<\/p>\n
As a child, she hid that pain. She\u2019d lie face down in the dirt when the school bus drove past, hoping the other kids wouldn\u2019t see.\u00a0<\/p>\n
[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Standing in that cotton \u2014 three generations together \u2014 I worried I was dredging up old wounds or causing new hurt.\u00a0<\/p>\nStill, I want to try to have these conversations without<\/em> passing the pain and stress down to the next generation \u2014 to my daughter.\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Why did we come down here to Sikeston?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLily: Because there\u2019s important work here.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Yeah, there is important work here.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> Someday I need to tell Lily about lynching in America. About Cleo Wright and our Uncle Leemon. I want her to know their names. I need to tell Lily about her <\/em>personal risk of encountering that kind of violence.\u00a0<\/p>\nBut, truthfully, I\u2019m not quite ready yet.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Here\u2019s some advice I got from psychologist Aiesha Lee.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiesha Lee: This pain has compounded over generations, and so we\u2019re going to have to deconstruct it or heal it over generations, right? And so, you know, our generation and the generations that come behind us will have little pieces of the work to do.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n[BEAT]<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\nAs we put mental health more so at the forefront, and as we start to communicate more and more within our families, that\u2019s how we engage in, in this healing.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> I was told to keep quiet a lot when I was a kid, but I want to nurture Lily\u2019s curiosity and<\/em> teach her what she needs to know to stay safe.\u00a0<\/p>\nMy parents did what they thought was best. Now it\u2019s my turn to try to find that balance.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sometimes when Lily\u2019s jumpy and restless, having a hard time falling asleep, we\u2019ll sing together.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cara Anthony and Lily <\/strong>[singing]: <\/em><\/strong>Hush. Hush, hush, somebody\u2019s calling my name. Hush, hush, somebody\u2019s calling my name.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony:<\/strong> At first listen, that might sound like a message to stay silent.\u00a0<\/p>\nActually, it\u2019s a song enslaved people sang as they worked in cotton fields. As they dreamed and planned. It\u2019s a call to be acknowledged. Named. And counted.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Lily has grown up a lot since we visited that cotton field in Sikeston. She\u2019s 7 now. I want her to know that she can speak out more freely than her ancestors could.\u00a0<\/p>\n
More than I have.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cara Anthony: Sit over, come over here. Come over here. Seriously. Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when you were crying? And I told you to fix your what?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLily: Face.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: That wasn\u2019t very nice. I want you to know that we can talk about things. Because when we talk about things, we often feel better, right?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLily: Yes.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Can we keep talking to each other while you grow up in life about stuff? Even hard stuff?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nLily: Like doing 100 math facts?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\nCara Anthony: Sure. That\u2019s the biggest thing in your life right now. But yes, all of that. We\u2019re just going to keep talking to each other. So, can we make a promise?<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n