My Bondage and My Freedom

“The practice of separating children from their mother, and hiring the latter out at distances too great to admit of their meeting, except at long intervals, is a marked feature of the cruelty and barbarity of the slave. But it is in harmony with the grand aim of slavery, which, always and everywhere, is to reduce man to a level with the brute. It is a successful method of obliterating from the mind and heart of the slave, all just ideas of the sacredness of the family, as an institution.”

Douglass illustrates how enslaved people often did not have the ability to foster bonds with blood relations. This denial of bonding rituals associated enslaved people with livestock, which enslavers similarly bred, sold, and separated, demonstrating The Dehumanizing Effects of Enslavement. The separation of an enslaved person from their mother was a key aspect of the system of enslavement. Denying mothers their maternal role—that is, the desire to look after the well-being of their children—made enslavers the sole determinants of the enslaved person’s well-being. The enslaved laborer feared the enslaver but often knew no other caretaker.

“I was a slave—born a slave—and though the fact was incomprehensible to me, it conveyed to my mind a sense of my entire dependence on the will of somebody I had never seen; and, from some cause or other, I had been made to fear this somebody above all else on earth.”

Douglass defines his origins within enslavement. Though he had not yet met Colonel Lloyd, the plantation owner’s authority loomed all around Douglass, who conveys the feeling of the enslaver’s omnipresence. Colonel Lloyd, whom he didn’t yet know, was “somebody”—that is, a person with an individual identity, while Douglass was one enslaved person among many in Lloyd’s world.

“We were brothers and sisters, but what of that? Why should they be attached to me, or I to them? Brothers and sisters we were by blood; but slavery had made us strangers.”

Douglass continues to discuss how enslavement ruptured familial bonds. After his grandmother pointed out his siblings on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, Douglass regarded them with indifference. He uses rhetorical questions to help the reader understand how he had developed such unfeeling at such a young age.

“Women—white women, I mean—are IDOLS at the south, not WIVES, for the slave women are preferred in many instances; and if these idols but nod, or lift a finger, woe to the poor victims: kicks, cuffs, and stripes are sure to follow. Masters are frequently compelled to sell this class of their slaves, out of deference to the feelings of their white wives; and shocking and scandalous as it may seem for a man to sell his own blood to the traffickers in human flesh, it is often an act of humanity toward the slave-child to be thus removed from his merciless tormenters.”

Douglass describes how white women epitomized femininity in the South. Though many of them embraced their idolized role, often to their own detriment, they accepted this status in exchange for their privileges within a white, patriarchal system in which the planter was at the top. They exercised their resentments through the enslavement system by coercing their husbands to sell the children whom they had fathered.

“I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meanings of those rude, and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle, so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones, loud, long and deep, breathing the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains.”

Douglass here describes his earliest encounters with spirituals. Their “long and deep” sounds seemed “rude” and their words, which described experiences he didn’t yet understand, seemed “incoherent.” In hindsight, he knows that these songs were both an artistic expression of struggle and a commitment to survival.

“It is easy to see, that, in entering upon the duties of a slaveholder, some little experience is needed. Nature has done almost nothing to prepare men and women to be either slaves or slaveholders. Nothing but rigid training, long persisted in, can perfect the character of the one or the other. One cannot easily forget to love freedom; and it is hard to cease to respect that natural love in our fellow creatures.”

Douglass insists that neither white enslavers nor Black enslaved people can naturally accept their conditions. Here, he argues against the stereotype of the enslaved person’s docility, an idea that existed during his time and one that persisted long enough to justify other forms of oppression. In Douglass’s view, there was nothing natural about the desire to be inhumane toward others and nothing natural about the acceptance of one’s loss of humanity.

“I had now penetrated the secret of all slavery and oppression, and had ascertained their true foundation to be in the pride, the power and the avarice of man.”

Douglass may have been using the noun “secret” ironically. If not, it’s possible that his faith in the general goodness of human nature made it difficult for him to ascertain how anyone could engage in a system as dehumanizing as enslavement. Whatever his true feelings were, he summarized the reasons for enslaving people as base and rooted in sin—pride and greed.

“I now saw, in my situation, several points of similarity with that of the oxen. They were property, so was I; they were to be broken, so was I. Covey was to break me, I was to break them; break and be broken—such is life.”

Douglass analogizes his life with that of the oxen to draw attention to the ways in which those in power dehumanized him. In the final sentence, he depicts the cycle of dehumanization, descending from Covey to the oxen, as though it were a food chain. Both Douglass and the oxen suffered objectification in a system that likened both enslaved people and livestock, and Covey had to contend with the ways in which he dehumanized himself by his treatment of both Douglass and the oxen.

“My natural elasticity was crushed; my intellect languished; the disposition to read departed; the cheerful spark that lingered about my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me; and behold a man transformed into a brute!”

Douglass describes the process by which enslavement crushed his spirit as he grew both old enough to form an identity and to understand how his condition would prevent his personal development. His hopelessness removed all motivation to improve himself, and he settled into the monotony of incessant drudgery. Knowing that he existed only to serve a function, not unlike a cow or an ox, he felt more akin to the livestock than he did to the fellow humans who “owned” him.

“[T]his battle with Mr. Covey […] was the turning point in my ‘life as a slave’ […] I was a changed being after that fight. I was nothing before; I WAS A MAN NOW. It recalled to life my crushed self-respect and my self-confidence, and inspired me with a renewed determination to be A FREEMAN. A man, without force, is without the essential dignity of humanity. Human nature is so constituted, that it cannot honor a helpless man, although it can pity him; and even this it cannot do long, if the signs of power do not arise.” 

Douglass describes the aftermath of his fistfight with the man hired to break the will of enslaved people, Edward Covey. In his memory, it isn’t a mere fight, but a “battle.” Douglass uses a term of war to convey the magnitude of this moment. Unable to challenge his status legally, Douglass could only contend with Covey physically. His assertion of strength reminded him of his physical power and the importance of asserting that power, however basic it seemed. Douglass’s last sentence upholds the fact that, despite any stated aversion to physical violence, no one can respect someone who does not stand up for him or herself. Douglass didn’t want to be a pitiful figure but someone worthy of respect and admiration, something that wouldn’t have been possible without this rebellion against Covey’s authority.

“Slaves, generally, will fight each other, and die at each other’s hands; but there are few who are not held in awe by a white man. Trained from the cradle up, to think and feel that their masters are superior, and invested with a sort of sacredness, there are few who can outgrow or rise above the control which that sentiment exercises. I had now got free from it, and the thing was known. One bad sheep will spoil a whole flock. Among the slaves, I was a bad sheep.”

Enslavement taught Black Americans to loathe themselves because they were not white. Anyone who found favor with a white man, who existed at the pinnacle of the system of enslavement, deemed himself worthy of respect. Here, Douglass explains how Black Americans internalized racism. Even those who achieved freedom contended with feelings of self-hatred. Douglass, however, claims that he freed himself from this problem due to never accepting that he was inferior to any white man.

“I assert most unhesitatingly, that the religion of the south—as I have observed it and proved it—is a mere covering for the most horrid crimes; the justifier of the most appalling barbarity; a sanctifier of the most hateful frauds; and a secure shelter, under which the darkest, foulest, grossest, and most infernal abominations fester and flourish.”

Douglass returns to this subject later, particularly when explaining the ways in which the Methodist Church sanctioned pro-enslavement sentiments in the South and segregation in the North. Religion, he argues, was a costume that enslavers wore to disguise their sinful behavior—to convince themselves that they were decent despite their incessant violence, adultery, and fornication.

“A mere look, work, or motion, a mistake, accident or want of power, are all matters for which a slave may be whipped at any time. Does a slave look dissatisfied with his condition? It is said, that he has the devil in him, and it must be whipped out. Does he answer loudly, when spoken to by his master, with an air of self-consciousness? Then, must he be taken down a button-hole lower, by the lash, well laid on. Does he forget, and omit to pull off his hat, when approaching a white person? Then, he must, or may be, whipped for his bad manners. Does he ever venture to vindicate his conduct, when harshly and unjustly accused? Then, he is guilty of impudence, one of the greatest crimes in the social catalogue of southern society.”

Douglass enumerates the many reasons that an enslaver might have employed to justify cruelty against an enslaved person. He uses a series of rhetorical questions, assuming the voice of an enslaver. Each question can only take a “yes” or “no” answer, leaving no room for explication—only swift judgment.

“The slaveholder, kind or cruel, is a slaveholder still—the every hour violator of the just and inalienable rights of man; and he is, therefore, every hour silently whetting the knife of vengeance for his own throat. He never lisps a syllable in commendation of the fathers of this republic, nor denounces any attempted oppression of himself, without inviting the knife to his own throat, and asserting the rights of rebellion for his own slaves.”

Douglass invokes the language of the Declaration of Independence to illustrate the hypocrisy of enslavers, otherwise proud Americans who flouted what were supposedly the nation’s founding principles. Douglass uses the metaphor of the knife to demonstrate how enslavers were, ultimately, self-destructive. Their insistence on enslaving people was incompatible with the nation’s founding principles. Their half-hearted embrace of those principles justified enslaved people’s rebellion and the eventual demise of enslavement in the South.

“[I]n cities, such as Baltimore, Richmond, New Orleans, Mobile, etc., it is seen pretty clearly. The slaveholders, with a craftiness peculiar to themselves, by encouraging the enmity of the poor, laboring white man against the blacks, succeeds in making the said white man almost as much a slave as the black slave himself. The difference between the white slave, and the black slave, is this: the latter belongs to one slaveholder, and the former belongs to all the slaveholders, collectively […] Both are plundered, and by the same plunderers.”

The cities that Douglass mentions were all major ports where poor white men labored, often on the wharves. Douglass explains how the plantation system benefited very few white men. However, because enslavement was the standard for determining economic success in the 19th century, planters gained the complicity of poor white people in accepting a system that would never benefit them. The latter would continue to labor, futilely, with the hope of one day achieving the planter’s lofty status.

“A sense of my loneliness and helplessness crept over me, and covered me with something bordering on despair. In the midst of thousands of my fellow-men, and yet a perfect stranger! In the midst of human brothers, and yet more fearful of them than of hungry wolves! I was without home, without friends, without work, without money, and without any definite knowledge of which way to go, or where to look for succor.”

Douglass describes his life after he sought freedom in New York City. Though he was on free soil, his life was in constant danger from the possibility of kidnapping and forcible return to the South to be resold into enslavement or returned to Hugh. By using contrast, he describes the feeling of being excited by a city so populous that it offered anonymity, while also being afraid of having to make a living in a place where he could find no work. His repetition of the adjective “without” emphasizes for the reader that freedom did not automatically solve his problems but rather introduced him to new ones. Douglass’s description of this new condition of alienation helps flesh out another reason why so many enslaved people did not seek freedom from their enslavers. It wasn’t always because they had accepted their conditions, but because they didn’t know how or if they could survive off of the plantation.

“Here opened upon me a new life—a life for which I had had no preparation. I was a ‘graduate from that peculiar institution,’ Mr. Collins used to say, when introducing me, ‘with my diploma written on my back!’ The three years of my freedom had been spent in the hard school of adversity. My hands had been furnished by nature with something like a solid leather coating, and I had bravely marked out for myself a life of rough labor, suited to the hardness of my hands, as a means of supporting myself and rearing my children.” 

Douglass describes his feeling upon entering a new career as an orator. John A. Collins, “the general agent of the Massachusetts anti-slavery society” (353), recruited him and used the evidence of Douglass’s scarred back as physical proof of enslavement’s cruelties. Douglass uses Collins’s metaphor of graduation, an attestation of the former enslaved person’s survival strength, but takes it further to claim a natural hardiness, possibly passed down through generations of enslaved people. This hardiness made it more possible for Douglass to survive as a free man in New England, contrary to arguments that a previously enslaved person would not survive without an enslaver.

“In this enthusiastic spirit, I dropped into the ranks of freedom’s friends, and went forth to the battle. For a time I was made to forget that my skin was dark and my hair crisped. For a time I regretted that I could not have shared the hardships and dangers endured by the earlier workers for the slave’s release. I soon, however, found that my enthusiasm had been extravagant; that hardships and dangers were not yet passed; and that the life now before me, had shadows as well as sunbeams.”

Douglass describes his feelings upon joining the abolitionist cause as a public speaker. He likens his decision to that of one going to war against enslavement. Becoming an orator temporarily released him from the feeling of racist stigmatization. He came to believe, for a moment, that he brought value to his abolitionist compatriots on the basis of his natural abilities. However, Douglass soon afterward recounts the ways in which the abolitionists turned him into a public spectacle. He also soon describes his fears of becoming recaptured. As long as enslavement continued to exist, his freedom remained marred by the sense that others could take away all of his newly won liberties at any moment.

“That men should be patriotic, is to me perfectly natural; and as a philosophical fact, I am able to give it an intellectual recognition. But no further can I go. If ever I had any patriotism, or any capacity for the feeling, it was whipped out of me long since, by the lash of the American soul-drivers.”

In his address to the Ladies’ Anti-Slavery Society of Rochester, New York, on July 5, 1852 (he received an invite on July 4), “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” Douglass described Black Americans’ aversion to patriotism. Here, he acknowledges an understanding of how one can rationalize love of country, even of one that permits frequent injustice. He had no personal love for his country due to the cruelty that he and other enslaved people had too frequently experienced within it, much to the indifference of so many so-called patriots.

“In thinking of America, I sometimes find myself admiring her bright blue sky, her grand old woods, her fertile fields, her beautiful rivers, her mighty lakes, and star-crowned mountains. But my rapture is soon checked, my joy is soon turned to mourning. When I remember that all is cursed with the infernal spirit of slaveholding, robbery, and wrong; when I remember that with the waters of her noblest rivers, the tears of my brethren are borne to the ocean […] and that her most fertile fields drink daily of the warm blood of my outraged sisters; I am filled with utter loathing […] America will not allow her children to love her. She seems bent on compelling those who would be her warmest friends, to be her worst enemies.”

Douglass wavers between love for America’s beauty and loathing of its ugly hypocrisy—its commitment to injustice in favor of greed. In evoking the former, he focuses on its natural beauty—the bounty of its natural resources that also facilitated the South’s transition to an agrarian enslaving society. Douglass, as angry as he was with his country, never hesitated to claim it as his own. He identifies himself as one of the nation’s disregarded children, forced to turn against it out of a need for self-preservation.

“I have crossed three thousand miles of the perilous deep. Instead of a democratic government, I am under a monarchical government. Instead of the bright, blue sky of America, I am covered with the soft, grey fog of the Emerald Isle […] I employ a cab—I am seated beside white people—I reach the hotel—I enter the same door—I am shown into the same parlor—I dine at the same table and no one is offended […] I find no difficulty here in obtaining admission into any place of worship, instruction, or amusement, on equal terms with people as white as any I ever saw in the United States. I meet nothing to remind me of my complexion. I find myself regarded and treated at every turn with the kindness and deference paid to white people.”

In a letter to William Lloyd Garrison, Douglass illustrates the freedom that he experienced in Ireland—that is, people treating him as a fellow human being with the right to share public space with anyone else. Color was an arbitrary marker. While it designated Black Americans as subhuman, it was a difference of no legal or social significance in Ireland. This anecdote undermines many white Americans’ fervent belief in the “natural” inferiority of Black people while also hinting at The Importance of International Solidarity.

“About four years ago, upon a reconsideration of the whole subject, I became convinced that there was no necessity for dissolving the ‘union between the northern and southern states’ […] and that the constitution of the United States not only contained no guarantees in favor of slavery, but, on the contrary, it is, in its letter and spirit, an anti-slavery instrument, demanding the abolition of slavery as a condition of its own existence, as the supreme law of the land.”

Douglass explains the nature of his quarrel with the New England abolitionists. While they advocated that the Constitution was a document that justified enslavement, Douglass insisted that its language justified the abolition of enslavement. Both in this memoir and in some of his best-known speeches, Douglass invoked language from the nation’s founding documents as a rebuke to the country for its inability to abide by its own principles. His dismissal of the “necessity for dissolving the union” refers to the contemporary rhetoric around Southern secession, which occurred five years after the publication of this memoir when South Carolina became the first state to secede from the union in December 1860.

“When I first went among the abolitionists of New England, and began to travel, I found this prejudice [against color] very strong and very annoying. The abolitionists themselves were not entirely free from it, and I could see that they were nobly struggling against it. In their eagerness, sometimes, to show their contempt for the feeling, they proved that they had not entirely recovered from it […]”

Though the abolitionists were fervently against enslavement, they were not devoid of racism. Douglass’s discussion of the pervasiveness of racial prejudice strongly suggests that the abolitionists’ aversion to his starting his own press, as well as their insistence on furnishing the philosophy around abolition, reveals that their antipathy for enslavement wasn’t always based on the belief that Black Americans were their equals.