I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son, a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life. She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me, so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually kind to me; he was naturally a good–hearted man, but was influenced by his wife. It was Saturday evening, and while I was bending over the bed, watching the baby that I had just hushed into slumber, Mr. Bingham came to the door and asked me to go with him to his study. Wondering what he meant by his strange request, I followed him, and when we had entered the study he closed the door, and in his blunt way remarked: "Lizzie, I am going to flog you." I was thunderstruck, and tried to think if I had been remiss in anything. I could not recollect of doing anything to deserve punishment, and with surprise exclaimed: "Whip me, Mr. Bingham! what for?"
"No matter," he replied, "I am going to whip you, so take down your dress this instant."
Recollect, I was eighteen years of age, was a woman fully developed, and yet this man coolly bade me take down my dress. I drew myself up proudly, firmly, and said: "No, Mr. Bingham, I shall not take down my dress before you. Moreover, you shall not whip me unless you prove the stronger. Nobody has a right to whip me but my own master, and nobody shall do so if I can prevent it."
My words seemed to exasperate him. He seized a rope, caught me roughly, and tried to tie me. I resisted with all my strength, but he was the stronger of the two, and after a hard struggle succeeded in binding my hands and tearing my dress from my back. Then he picked up a rawhide, and began to ply it freely over my shoulders. With steady hand and practised eye he would raise the instrument of torture, nerve himself for a blow, and with fearful force the rawhide descended upon the quivering flesh. It cut the skin, raised great welts, and the warm blood trickled down my back. Oh God! I can feel the torture now—the terrible, excruciating agony of those moments. I did not scream; I was too proud to let my tormentor know what I was suffering. I closed my lips firmly, that not even a groan might escape from them, and I stood like a statue while the keen lash cut deep into my flesh. As soon as I was released, stunned with pain, bruised and bleeding, I went home and rushed into the presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Robert, why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be so punished?"
"Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me."
I would not be put off thus. "What have I done? I will know why I have been flogged."
I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his feet, and on my refusing to go without an explanation, seized a chair, struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more calm, and I believe that I could then have forgiven everything for the sake of one kind word. But the kind word was not proffered, and it may be possible that I grew somewhat wayward and sullen. Though I had faults, I know now, as I felt then, harshness was the poorest inducement for the correction of them. It seems that Mr. Bingham had pledged himself to Mrs. Burwell to subdue what he called my "stubborn pride." On Friday following the Saturday on which I was so savagely beaten, Mr. Bingham again directed me come to his study. I went, but with the determination to offer resistance should he attempt to flog me again. On entering the room I found him prepared with a new rope and a new cowhide. I told him that I was ready to die, but that he could not conquer me. In struggling with him I bit his finger severely, when he seized a heavy stick and beat me with it in a shameful manner. Again I went home sore and bleeding, but with pride as strong and defiant as ever. The following Thursday Mr. Bingham again tried to conquer me, but in vain. We struggled, and he struck me many savage blows. As I stood bleeding before him, nearly exhausted with his efforts, he burst into tears, and declared that it would be a sin to beat me any more. My suffering at last subdued his hard heart; he asked my forgiveness, and afterwards was an altered man. He was never known to strike one of his servants from that day forward. Mr. Burwell, he who preached the love of Heaven, who glorified the precepts and examples of Christ, who expounded the Holy Scriptures Sabbath after Sabbath from the pulpit, when Mr. Bingham refused to whip me any more, was urged by his wife to punish me himself. One morning he went to the wood–pile, took an oak broom, cut the handle off, and with this heavy handle attempted to conquer me. I fought him, but he proved the strongest. At the sight of my bleeding form, his wife fell upon her knees and begged him to desist. My distress even touched her cold, jealous heart. I was so badly bruised that I was unable to leave my bed for five days. I will not dwell upon the bitter anguish of these hours, for even the thought of them now makes me shudder. The Rev. Mr. Burwell was not yet satisfied. He resolved to make another attempt to subdue my proud, rebellious spirit—made the attempt and again failed, when he told me, with an air of penitence, that he should never strike me another blow; and faithfully he kept his word. These revolting scenes created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit upon them.
The savage efforts to subdue my pride were not the only things that brought me suffering and deep mortification during my residence at Hillsboro'. I was regarded as fair–looking for one of my race, and for four years a white man—I spare the world his name—had base designs upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four years, and I—I—became a mother. The child of which he was the father was the only child that I ever brought into the world. If my poor boy ever suffered any humiliating pangs on account of birth, he could not blame his mother, for God knows that she did not wish to give him life; he must blame the edicts of that society which deemed it no crime to undermine the virtue of girls in my then position.
Among the old letters preserved by my mother I find the following, written by myself while at Hillsboro'. In this connection I desire to state that Rev. Robert Burwell is now living[A] at Charlotte, North Carolina:—
"HILLSBORO', April 10, 1838.
"MY DEAR MOTHER:—I have been intending to write to you for a long time, but numerous things have prevented, and for that reason you must excuse me.
"I thought very hard of you for not writing to me, but hope that you will answer this letter as soon as you receive it, and tell me how you like Marsfield, and if you have seen any of old acquaintances, or if you yet know any of the brick–house people who I think so much of. I want to hear of the family at home very much, indeed. I really believe you and all the family have forgotten me, if not I certainly should have heard from some of you since you left Boyton, if it was only a line; nevertheless I love you all very dearly, and shall, although I may never see you again, nor do I ever expect to. Miss Anna is going to Petersburgh next winter, but she says that she does not intend take me; what reason she has for leaving me I cannot tell. I have often wished that I lived where I knew I never could see you, for then I would not have my hopes raised, and to be disappointed in this manner; however, it is said that a bad beginning makes a good ending, but I hardly expect to see that happy day at this place. Give my love to all the family, both white and black. I was very much obliged to you for the presents you sent me last summer, though it is quite late in the day to be thanking for them. Tell Aunt Bella that I was very much obliged to her for her present; I have been so particular with it that I have only worn it once.
"There have been six weddings since October; the most respectable one was about a fortnight ago; I was asked to be the first attendant, but, as usual with all my expectations, I was disappointed, for on the wedding–day I felt more like being locked up in a three–cornered box than attending a wedding. About a week before Christmas I was bridesmaid for Ann Nash; when the night came I was in quite a trouble; I did not know whether my frock was clean or dirty; I only had a week's notice, and the body and sleeves to make, and only one hour every night to work on it, so you can see with these troubles to overcome my chance was rather slim. I must now close, although I could fill ten pages with my griefs and misfortunes; no tongue could express them as I feel; don't forget me though; and answer my letters soon. I will write you again, and would write more now, but Miss Anna says it is time I had finished. Tell Miss Elizabeth that I wish she would make haste and get married, for mistress says that I belong to her when she gets married.
"I wish you would send me a pretty frock this summer; if you will send it to Mrs. Robertson's Miss Bet will send it to me.
"Farewell, darling mother.
"Your affectionate daughter, "ELIZABETH HOBBS."
背景和作者介绍
这个强有力的叙述是伊丽莎白·霍布斯·凯克利自传的节选，伊丽莎白·霍布斯·凯克利是一位非裔美国女性，出生于 19 世纪初的奴隶制时代。凯克利后来获得了自由，成为一名成功的裁缝，也是亚伯拉罕·林肯总统的妻子玛丽·托德·林肯的知己。她的回忆录提供了一个罕见而生动的关于奴隶制残酷现实、被奴役人民的韧性以及当时复杂的社会动态的第一手资料。
伊丽莎白的故事背景是内战前的美国，这是一个充满种族压迫和社会不公正的时期。她的经历反映了被奴役人民所遭受的残酷待遇，包括身体虐待、情感折磨和剥削。然而，她的叙述也揭示了她在逆境中表现出的力量、尊严和坚定不移的精神。
详细解读和意义
这段话讲述了伊丽莎白在北卡罗来纳州与一位长老会牧师的家人一起生活时痛苦的经历。尽管她很年轻，而且承担着繁重的工作量，但她却遭受了残酷的惩罚和不公正的待遇。这个故事突出了那些宣扬基督教价值观却对他人施加痛苦的人的虚伪。伊丽莎白拒绝被动地屈服于虐待，这表明了她的勇气和自尊，挑战了她那个时代非人化的规范。
叙述还触及了被奴役妇女所面临的复杂而痛苦的性剥削现实。伊丽莎白关于在这种情况下成为母亲的叙述揭示了剥夺被奴役妇女对其身体和生活自主权的系统性不公正。
她写给她母亲的信揭示了她对联系、希望和更美好未来的渴望，尽管她经历了种种困境。它也反映了分离带来的情感代价以及在困难情况下保持希望所需的韧性。
给学生的教训和见解
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勇气和自尊： 伊丽莎白拒绝在没有反抗的情况下被打，这教会了我们即使面对压倒性的力量，也要为自己站出来的重要性。学生们可以了解到，尊严和勇气是克服不公正的重要品质。
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同情心和意识： 阅读伊丽莎白的痛苦经历，可以培养对那些面临歧视和困境的人的同情心。它帮助学生理解历史对人类的影响，培养同情心和社会意识。
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韧性的力量： 尽管她面临着残酷，但伊丽莎白的精神依然没有被摧毁。她的故事激励学生培养韧性——这是克服生活和学习中挑战的一项基本技能。
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对历史的批判性思考： 伊丽莎白的叙述邀请学生批判性地审视历史上的不公正，并认识到人类行为的复杂性，包括宣称的价值观和行动之间的矛盾。
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发声的重要性： 伊丽莎白决定写下她的故事和信件，这表明了分享个人经历的力量。可以鼓励学生诚实地表达自己，并用自己的声音倡导正义和改变。
在日常生活中应用这些教训
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在学校： 学生可以通过反对欺凌或不公平待遇来培养勇气。他们可以通过支持可能感到被边缘化的同学来练习同情心。
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在社交场合： 了解尊重和友善的重要性有助于建立包容性的友谊和社区。认识到他人的挣扎可以培养同情心和合作精神。
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在个人成长中： 通过在学习、运动或个人挑战中坚持不懈来培养韧性，为学生应对未来的障碍做好准备。反思伊丽莎白这样的历史故事可以激发成长心态。
从故事中培养积极的价值观
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尊重人的尊严： 认识到每个人都应该受到尊重，无论其背景或地位如何。
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反对不公正： 学会识别不公平，并找到建设性的回应方式。
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同情心和怜悯心： 练习理解他人的感受和经历。
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诚实和表达： 鼓励开放的沟通和分享个人故事。
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希望和决心： 即使在面临困难时，也要保持乐观和决心。
通过学习伊丽莎白·霍布斯·凯克利的故事，学生们不仅获得了历史知识，还培养了道德洞察力和情感力量。她的一生证明了人类精神的持久性和为正义和尊严而奋斗的重要性。