Description Continued:
Copies of the Blue-Back Speller were widespread across white American homes and schools. Enslaved people obtained them by stealing them, finding discarded copies, or bartering with white children in exchange for food, fruit, or small items. Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Renty Taylor documented or noted using the Blue-Back Speller to master literacy.
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From: Oakland Literacy Coalition
Literacy By Any Means Necessary: The History of Anti-Literacy Laws in the U.S

This piece was originally published and updated on www.carliandcompany.org on December 2021. We are sharing an excerpt, for full article please visit CarliAndCompany)

Written by Carliss Maddox - January 12, 2022

Imagine being one of those readers seeking knowledge that reflects on your own human experience and being withheld from doing so. Unfortunately, in the United States, there was a time when certain individuals were prohibited from learning to read or write based on the color of their skin. Historically, black people were not allowed to read, write, or even own a book because of anti-literacy laws. Anti-literacy laws made it illegal for enslaved and free people of color to read or write. Southern slave states enacted anti-literacy laws between 1740 and 1834, prohibiting anyone from teaching enslaved and free people of color to read or write. The purpose of this blog is to shed light on the history of anti-literacy laws that restricted black people’s access to literacy and to demonstrate the resilience of a people who used their emancipated minds to obtain literacy by any means necessary.

Anti-Literacy Laws and Abolitionist Frederick Douglass
Confederate states in the antebellum South that passed anti-literacy laws included South Carolina, North Carolina, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Virginia, and Alabama. Due to fear following the Stono Rebellion, the largest slave uprising in South Carolina in 1739, blacks were prohibited from learning to read. Plantation owners feared that literate slaves could write and use forged documents to gain their freedom. However, many of the enslaved used this method to obtain their freedom. Slave owner Hugh Auld describes this fear in this exchange with his wife, Sophia Auld, after he discovered her teaching a young Frederick Douglass how to read:

He should know nothing but the will of his master and learn to obey it. As to himself, learning will do him no good, but a great deal of harm, making him disconsolate and unhappy. If you teach him how to read, he’ll want to know how to write, and this accomplished, he’ll be running away with himself. (Douglass, 2017, p. 14)

Mr. Auld’s fear did not stop Douglass from learning how to read. In fact, it only inspired him to become even more fearlessly determined to learn to read and write. For Douglass, Auld’s reaction was a “North Star” moment that led to education as a pathway to freedom. In his book, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave, Douglass spoke of this incident:

Whilst I was saddened by the thought of losing the aid of my kind mistress, I was gladdened by the invaluable instruction which, by the merest accident, I had gained from my master. Though conscious of the difficulty of learning without a teacher, I set out with high hope, and a fixed purpose, at whatever cost of trouble, to learn how to read. (Douglass, 2017, p. 15)

Even though his lessons with Mrs. Auld had ended, Douglass found creative ways to learn to read. I envision Douglass saying to himself, “If you don’t teach me to read directly, I will learn to read indirectly.” Douglass made friends with white children in the community that taught him to read in exchange for food. He learned how to write by watching ship carpenters write the names of ship parts on timbers in the shipyard. The poet Khalil Gibran beautifully describes this resilience when he says, “You may chain my hands, you may shackle my feet; you may even throw me into a dark prison; but you shall not enslave my thinking, because it is free!” Douglass, who became an abolitionist, outspoken orator, and author, made it his mission to obtain literacy by any means necessary.

Knowledge acquired by a slave was like a death knell to a slave owner. In order to destroy any semblance of humanity, plantation owners kept enslaved black people in the dark. The majority of enslaved people didn’t even know the year they were born or their lineage. It was a purposeful removal of identity in an effort to perpetuate the slave mentality. Several confederate states jointly imposed literacy restrictions on the enslaved using legislation that went beyond the shackling of bodies and extended into the shackling of minds. In their attempts to shackle our intellect, they failed to factor in the resilience of a people who endured centuries of brutal dehumanization and forced assimilation. A paradigm shift occurs in the thinking processes of enslaved people who gain knowledge. Their thinking moves from a slave mentality to a mentality of liberation, thus making them “unfit to be slaves,” as Frederick Douglass stated.

Alabama Anti-Literacy Laws and Jennie Proctor

The state of Alabama passed an anti-literacy law in the form of a slave code which states:

The Alabama Slave Code of 1833 included the following law “[S31] Any person who shall attempt to teach any free person of color, or slave, to spell, read or write, shall upon conviction thereof by indictment, be fined in a sum of not less than two hundred fifty dollars, nor more than five hundred dollars.”

Jennie Proctor was enslaved in the state of Alabama in 1850-1865. She did an interview with the Federal Writers’ Project in San Angelo Texas in 1937. The Federal Writers’ Project was a collection of interviews of over 2,300 formerly enslaved black people conducted in the 1930’s. In her interview, she gives a firsthand account of her life as a slave in Alabama. Jennie started working in the fields at the age of 10. In this interview, Jennie gives her account of learning how to read even though it was forbidden. She said,

“None of us wuz ’lowed to see a book or try to learn. Dey say we git smarter den dey wuz if we learn anythin’, but we slips around and gits hold of that Webster’s old blue back speller and we hides it ’til way in de night. Den we lights a little pine torch and studies dat spellin’ book. We learn it, too. I can read some now and write a little, too.”

Restrictions did not keep Jennie from learning how to read. In the wee hours of the night, she would use Webster’s old spelling book, lighting a pine torch to read the words. The black community knows how to make a way out of no way. Our role is that of a pathfinder, forced to come up with ways to get around the unjust limitations imposed on us by those who oppressed us. Despite being enslaved, Jennie refused to be defined or oppressed by her status. She was determined to learn how to read by any means necessary.

Georgia Anti-Literacy Laws and Mathilda Beasley

Anti-literacy laws were enacted in Georgia in 1829, which stated:

And be it further enacted, That if any slave, negro, or free person of colour, or any white person, shall teach any other slave, negro, or free person of colour, to read or write either written or printed characters, the said free person of colour or slave shall be punished by fine and whipping, or fine or whipping at the discretion of the court; and if a white person so offending, he, she, or they shall be punished with a fine, not exceeding five hundred dollars, and imprisonment in the common jail at the discretion of the court before whom said offender is tried.

Assented to, December 22, 1829 George R. Gilmer, Governor

Teaching people of color how to read was punishable by whippings, lashes, fines, and even death. However, black educators in Savannah, Georgia took profound risks to teach enslaved and free children of color how to read. Savannah is one of the oldest cities in Georgia. It is a picturesque place where oak trees are draped with Spanish moss, which provides shade from the hot Georgia sun. The Savannah River carries a cool breeze while residents enjoy sweet tea on the front porches of antebellum homes. One cannot imagine what slavery was like in this beautiful city centuries ago.

The undercurrents of slavery have no respect for people or beautiful places. Slavery still operated concurrently with regular life. There’s a story of a courageous educator named Mathilda Beasley, who is practically unknown in the annals of black history. Mathilda was born in New Orleans and moved to Savannah, Georgia, in the 1850s. Despite the risks of fines and up to 32 lashes in the public square, Mathilda opened a “secret” school for enslaved and free children of color. Educating children of color in Savannah was Mathilda’s brave act against illiteracy and unjust laws. Mathilda’s bravery is noteworthy, but the students should also be recognized. The colored schools in Savannah were considered open secrets.

Therefore, the students had to take extra precautions to hide from the authorities. To do this, they wrapped their books in newspapers, changed their school routes, and hid in a designated place if the authorities raided them. Both Mathilda and her students showed bravery, courage, and the willingness to learn by any means necessary.
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Missouri Anti-Literacy Laws and John Berry Meachum

The state of Missouri, admitted as a slave state in 1821, passed an anti-literacy law in 1847 which states:

“No person shall keep or teach any school for the instruction of negroes or mulattoes, in reading or writing, in this State.”

In Missouri, this particular anti-literacy law targeted schools that taught black and mulatto students. Before this law was passed, schools had already been established for free and enslaved black people in the state. John Berry Meachum, a black man from Virginia, was instrumental in advancing the education of black people in Missouri. Meachum was a pastor, business owner, educator, and founder of the oldest black church in Missouri. He was born into slavery in Virginia. During his enslavement, Meachum learned the craft of carpentry.

By the age of 21, he had earned enough money from carpentry to buy his freedom and the freedom of his father. Shortly after that, he bought his wife’s freedom after they both moved to St. Louis, Missouri. In 1825, Meachum was ordained as a Baptist minister and opened the First African Baptist Church in St. Louis. It also served as a school for free and enslaved residents of St. Louis. Close to 300 students were attending the school. As a religious leader, Meachum did not see education for children of color as a sacred duty, but rather as a means of preparing them for a future free from slavery. White residents of St. Louis began to view the education of free and enslaved people of color as a threat as slave revolt reports intensified.

As a result, they introduced legislation banning education for all free and enslaved black people. Meachum was forced to close the school temporarily, but he did not allow the ordinance to deter him. He devised a plan to reopen the school through other means outside of the jurisdiction of the state. Using a steamboat on the Mississippi River, he established the Floating Freedom School. Meachum’s Freedom School continued to educate the enslaved and free people of color regardless of anti-literacy laws. By establishing a steamboat school in the face of unjust laws, Meachum demonstrated his willingness to educate black students by any means necessary.

Final Thoughts
It is said that “knowledge is power.” Historically, black people were deprived of knowledge due to anti-literacy laws. I believe anti-literacy is anti-knowledge. Although anti-literacy laws no longer exist, critical race theory (CRT) has emerged as a new form of this ideology. CRT examines how structural inequalities persist even though laws are in place to address them. However, lawmakers are participating in fear-mongering campaigns about critical race theory, claiming that it is being taught in the classrooms.

These claims have no roots but are just the tentacles of falsehoods reaching into the hearts of those seeking to sanitize their bigotry. The manufactured version of CRT is just an attempt to justify the selective erasure of history that acknowledges the ugly truth of our nation’s past regarding people of color. Since CRT was introduced, twenty-two states have attempted or proposed legislation to regulate the teaching of racism in the classroom. Unfortunately, this has also resulted in the banning of books written by black authors. Laws are supposed to establish justice.

Today, laws are being used as modern-day shackles of restriction reminiscent of the Jim Crow era, always separate and never equal. The mere fact that certain sectors of society would produce legislation to restrict another race of people is proof that they have proclaimed themselves as the prototype. This country must repent of historical misconceptions that one race is the prototype and that every culture must conform to it. It is impossible to live in a monochromatic world when it is filled with a kaleidoscope of beautiful people and cultures. You cannot escape diversity.

It is everywhere and in everything. God created it that way. Learning about other cultures, whether from books or experiences, builds a sense of respect. A whitewashing or eradication of that knowledge would be detrimental to our society because you cannot respect what you do not understand. Whitewashing American history is futile. History is not black and white; history is in color. I believe the world would be a much better place if we began to view each other through the lens of humanity and deep respect for cultural diversity rather than through the lens of the color of our skin.
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From: Slate

The Oppressor’s Bookshelf

As formerly enslaved Americans battled to become literate, the only books available to them were written by white supremacists and condescending abolitionists.

By Heather Andrea Williams - Dec 08, 2017 - 7:20 AM

Adapted from Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom by Heather Andrea Williams. Published by the University of North Carolina Press.

Books were of course essential to teaching, but they were also scarce commodities within freed communities. In response to the Freedmen’s Bureau question, “What books do you use?” one Georgia teacher replied, “Any I can get.”1

His response underscored the overwhelming poverty of freedpeople and the challenge involved in establishing effective schools. In many freedpeople classrooms, student progress was hindered by a lack of books and other classroom necessities. Reverend Joseph Warren, the Freedmen’s Bureau Superintendent of Education for Mississippi, echoed teachers’ concerns in an 1866 report: “Not more than two of the school-houses have been properly fitted up with writing-desks, even of the most primitive kind. Some others have very little accommodation for writing; most of them none at all. This is owing to the poverty of the people, and to the large demands upon the funds of the benevolent societies.” Warren concluded, “unless better apparatus can be provided in our schools, justice cannot be done to the pupils.”2

Some teachers were fortunate enough to receive donations of one or two types of books from northern organizations, but the tool that African Americans used most frequently to decode written English was Noah Webster’s Elementary Spelling Book, popularly called “the blue-back speller.” This book, which insisted on an American pronunciation distinct from the English, was Webster’s contribution to the American Revolution. Having “thrown off the shackles” of English rule, Americans, Webster believed, should also renounce the language. Instead of “honour,” Americans would spell “honor”; instead of “publick,” “public.” By 1818, Webster’s book had sold 5 million copies.3

It was this little book that Frederick Douglass and countless other enslaved people used in their first steps toward literacy.4 And when slavery ended, adults and children, many of whom could not attend school, got hold of the blue-back speller and slowly taught themselves to read. The speller accrued emotional significance as the guide that helped individuals to decipher written language. At 87 years of age, John Walton expressed his sentimental attachment when he told an interviewer, “I learned to read and write a little just since freedom Us used Websters old blue back speller and I has one in de house to dis day and I wouldn’t take nothing for it.”5

At the same time, books with competing ideologies floated around the South: those that supporters of the Confederacy designed to inculcate values such as the morality of slavery and the inferiority of African Americans and those that white abolitionists produced to advise black people how to carry out their new roles as free people. African American teachers’ scramble to obtain even the most elementary spelling books to teach the most rudimentary lessons took place within a broader contest for control over what stories textbooks would tell and who would tell them. Both northern and southern white politicians and educators realized that even simple statements inserted into elementary spelling lessons could influence a new generation of readers and thinkers.6

In the late 1850s, as regional tensions heightened, southern white politicians and educators moved to take control of what their children learned in school. Long dependent on northern teachers and texts, they began a campaign to remove both from the schools of the coming Confederacy. White southerners began publishing books that would introduce into the classroom values that they held dear, interposing lessons deemed appropriate for a slave society into elementary reading and spelling books. In addition to the values of politeness, honesty, and hard work that northern spelling books included, the elementary texts set out to convince young, white, southern readers that black slaves were better off than poor whites, that slavery was a biblically approved institution, and that northerners, including the despot Abraham Lincoln, sought to deprive white southerners of their God-given rights.6

Marinda Branson Moore, one of the more prolific authors of Confederate textbooks, was intent on conveying to her young readers that preserving the status quo would be the best option for black people. In a book that began its lessons with the spellings of monosyllabic words such as cat and bat, Moore introduced reading lessons like this one to support her philosophy that freedom was worse than slavery:

1. Here comes old aunt Ann. She is quite old. See how she leans on her stick.
2. When she was young she did good work, but now she can not work much. But she is not like a poor white woman.
3. Aunt Ann knows that her young Miss, as she calls her, will take care as long as she lives.
4. Many poor white folks would be glad to live in her house and eat what Miss Kate sends out for dinner.7
Moore also spiced her elementary geographical reader with judgments of black inferiority.8 Moore denoted clear distinctions among the “Races of men.” Europeans and Americans, mostly white or Caucasian, were more civilized and ranked far above the rest. They had churches, schools, and systems of government, and they treated women with respect. For Moore, the African or Negro race from Africa had no redeeming qualities. They were slothful, vicious, dull, and cruel to each other, selling their prisoners to white people as slaves. In Africa, they knew nothing of Jesus, and the climate was so unhealthy that white men could not go there to convert them. As a result, “the slaves who are found in America are in much better condition.” This is what the white children in the new schools of the southern Confederacy learned—lessons well-designed to perpetuate slavery and white supremacy.

With freedpeople’s schools opening just as these books reached the market, one can well imagine them falling into the hands of eager new black readers, transmitting the very lessons that the existence of freedpeople’s schools meant to counteract. However, not one African American teacher in post-emancipation Georgia reported using a recognized Confederate textbook. Even though they were desperate for books, black teachers, too, may have made political choices about what they would use in the classroom.

Following emancipation, abolitionists undertook a corresponding enterprise to produce textbooks for the freedpeople. Several northern whites produced books aimed at inculcating “northern values” into freed African Americans. In 1865 and 1866, the American Tract Society, a Boston-based Congregational Church affiliate, published The Freedman’s Spelling Book. The book aimed to explain rules very simply and to introduce words that related to “important practical subjects; as occupations, domestic life, civil institutions, morals, education, and natural science.” While teaching spelling and reading were of utmost priority, the publishers also wanted to impart practical information that would be of use to the freedpeople “in the new condition into which Providence has raised them.”

Aside from its name, at first glance, the Freedman’s Spelling Book did not appear to be so different from other contemporary northern spelling books. It presented lessons of etiquette and morality among the vocabulary words. Occasionally it was explicit, as in lesson 173, where it urged freedpeople to be economical: “A freedman should be provident; that is, he should provide for the future, and not be negligent.” Other messages tended to be more subtle and could be read to have mass appeal. However, when read simultaneously with another publication by the American Tract Society, Isaac W. Brinckerhoff ’s Advice to Freedmen, published in 1864 or 1865, it is easy to see how teachers with similar sensibilities and beliefs would have amplified the spelling books’ lessons in the classroom.9

Brinckerhoff, a white Baptist minister from Ithaca, New York, served as a plantation superintendent and teacher in the South Carolina Sea Islands from 1862–63. In his book, he addressed freedpeople directly, always with the condescending tone of a wise elder, introducing himself to them “as a friend who is doing all that he can to promote your welfare and the welfare of your people.” Brinckerhoff assured those who would read the book as well as those who would hear it read by literate friends that he saw human qualities in them.

“Though you have for generations been a dependent and enslaved race, yet with many visible marks of degradation still upon you,” he told them, “there is evidence of a God-given manhood within, which only needs to be properly developed and rightly cultivated to make you happy, prosperous, and useful.”10

Both the Freedman’s Spelling Book and Brinckerhoff ’s Advice to Freedmen sought to instill African Americans with a sense of obligation and loyalty to northern white men. The spelling book paired an illustration of a white soldier being greeted by a small white girl with a story of five sentences. The man had just returned home from the war. He was glad to see his little daughter. “Let us be joyful that the war is at an end,” the story continued. “It was sad to see men die in battle, but it was to make us free. We will not forget all that God did for us.”

This insistence to African Americans that white men had died to make them free neglected any mention that black men had also fought for their freedom. Brinckerhoff joined in this omission when he wrote, under the heading “How You Became Free”: “Many thousand households at the north are clothed in mourning, and many tears are shed for the dead who have been slain. With treasure and precious blood your freedom has been purchased. Let these sufferings and sacrifices never be forgotten when you remember that you are not now a slave, but a freedman.”11

In her lessons to white southern children, Marinda Moore reinforced a pro-slavery ideology that insisted African Americans were contented slaves who, even after being lured away by northern whites, returned to serve their former masters as loyal servants. Brinckerhoff, the white northerner, also represented himself as paternalistic caretaker, handing out advice to a benighted people. As Moore did, he too made claims on African American loyalty. While Moore’s textbooks influenced white boys and girls to believe that blacks belonged in slavery, Brinckerhoff’s book surely made it into freedpeople’s classrooms and into the spaces where freedpeople gathered to listen to the readers in their communities.

As African Americans announced to the world that they wanted to be literate, they found an odd collection of books in the libraries of their oppressors. Noah Webster created a book that renounced British conventions. Secessionist southerners declared their separateness from the rest of the nation with separate texts to indoctrinate their children. And white abolitionists celebrated the end of slavery while attempting to instill a sense of obligation in African Americans. Each of these actions signaled radical changes and underscored the political work that textbooks do. In the aftermath of slavery, African Americans were in no position to create their own textbooks to promote a worldview.

From Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom by Heather Andrea Williams. Copyright © 2005 by the University of North Carolina Press. Used by permission of the publisher.

1. School report of Tunis Campbell, Jan. 1, 1866, M799, roll 20, FBR.

2. Statement of Joseph Warren quoted in John W. Alvord, Second Semi-Annual Report on Schools and Finances, July 1, 1866 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1868), 7, reprinted in John W. Alvord, Semi-Annual Reports on Schools for Freedmen: Numbers 1–10, January 1866–July 1870 (New York: AMS Press, 1980).

3. Harry R. Warfel, Noah Webster: Schoolmaster to America (New York: Macmillan, 1936), 76; Paul Leicester Ford, “Webster’s Spelling-Book: Early American Text-Books Noah Webster’s Great Enterprise,” reprinted from the New York Evening Post, n.d., Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

4. Frederick Douglass, The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, ed. David W. Blight (New York: Bedford Books, 1993), 63.

5. George P. Rawick, ed., The American Slave: A Composite Autobiography, 19 vols. (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1972), vol. 5, pt. 4, p. 149.

6. Proceedings of the Convention of Teachers of the Confederate States, Assembled at Columbia, South Carolina, April 28th, 1863 (Macon, Ga.: Burke, Boykin, and Company), 18, in Confederate Imprints, 143 reels (microfilm; New Haven, Conn.: Research Publications, 1972), reel 113, no. 4009.

7. Marinda Branson Moore, The First Dixie Reader: Designed to Follow the Dixie Primer (Raleigh, N.C.: Branson, Farrar, and Company, 1863), 14.

8. Marinda Branson Moore, The Geographical Reader, for the Dixie Children (Raleigh: Branson, Farrar, and Company, 1863), 9–10.

9. American Tract Society, Freedman’s Spelling Book, 79; Isaac W. Brinckerhoff, Advice to Freedmen, vol. 4 of Freedmen’s Schools and Textbooks, ed. Morris.

10. Brinckerhoff, Advice to Freedmen, 16.

11. American Tract Society, Freedman’s Spelling Book, 22; Brinckerhoff, Advice to Freedmen, 6–7.