Monday

Part 7: The Secret History of the KKK

When I first read about Darkie Day, I was astounded.

What kinda local yokels would black up and sing racist songs in this day and age—and why in Britain, of all places?! Not even the most country-fried, Confederate-flag-loving hillbillies in the Deep South would do something like that!

Then again, who was I to throw stones? My grandfather was a member of the KKK.

As far as I can tell, though—and as absurd as it sounds—he wasn't a cross-burner or even a racist.

His father, a German immigrant to the Midwest in the 1850s, had joined the Republicans at a time when they were the upstart anti-slavery party led by Abe Lincoln. At just 17, my great-grandfather volunteered for the Civil War, sneaking off in the middle of the night to fight for the Union.

It seems unlikely that a man who had voluntarily risked his life to fight slavery would then indoctrinate his children with racist teachings.

Although it's possible that his son rebelled by joining the redneck group founded by Confederates at the end of the war, from what I can gather, my grandfather wasn't the type: he was a gentle soul, more henpecked than hellraiser. He certainly wasn't overtly racist, and he taught his children to treat blacks as equals.

Without trying to defend the indefensible, I reckon he joined the KKK for one simple reason: everybody else was doing it.

In its heyday, the Klan was very much a mainstream organisation in America (which arguably made it more sinister than its current incarnation on the lunatic fringe).

Although its rhetoric was undoubtedly bigoted, its rank-and-file members didn't hide behind hoods, and they didn't go around burning crosses or lynching people—at least not in Kansas.

The secret history of the KKK seems to be that outside the South, it functioned like any "respectable" social club of the time, hosting picnics, baseball games and fundraisers.


For what it's worth, I was brought up to view people of all races as equals. Not that there were many minorities in the middle of Kansas: no blacks, only one family of Mexicans/Catholics, and just one Asian—my Vietnamese foster brother.

When I entered my teens, we moved to Lexington, Kentucky, a city that prides itself on being part of the Progressive South. This may sound like a contradiction in terms, but it's true: they don't lynch people anymore; capital punishment is strictly by electrocution.

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