This chapter examines René Depestre’s epic poem Un arc-en-ciel pour l’occident chrétien. It contextualizes Vodou as a cultural and spiritual lieu de mémoire that was a major turning point leading to the Haitian Revolution. It analyzes the monumental role that the Vodou religion played in creating a sense of collective identity and consciousness that would eventually lead to the Ceremony of Bois Caïman. I argue that Vodou was at the heart of the resistance movement and provided agency for the enslaved. This agency allowed them to question the colonized Christian white god and embrace their own African spirituality. In so doing the enslaved were able to come together to create community and affirm their identity/ies. I then argue that the five sections of the poem depict Vodou as a framework for denouncing racism in the US South, as various lwas travel to Alabama, where lynching was commonplace, to decry the US’s political and religious hypocrisy and to avenge the enslaved and their families in the face of the wickedness and hatred associated with slavery. Depestre decries the hypocrisy of the white god and suggests to readers that the lwas show true humanity.

The historical context of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s antislavery speeches between 1844 and 1855 indicates that he gave them reluctantly after yielding to entreaties and that they are confused, contradictory, and without direction. Stunningly, between 1851 and 1854, years of monumental events in the time of abolitionism, there is no evidence that Emerson ever uttered a single word about slavery publicly. Although hating slavery with a passion, he disliked abolitionists almost as much and shied away from taking a public stand until 1856.

The historical context of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s antislavery speeches between 1844 and 1855 indicates that he gave them reluctantly after yielding to entreaties and that they are confused, contradictory, and without direction. Stunningly, between 1851 and 1854, years of monumental events in the time of abolitionism, there is no evidence that Emerson ever uttered a single word about slavery publicly. Although hating slavery with a passion, he disliked abolitionists almost as much and shied away from taking a public stand until 1856.

Volume 1 of The Cambridge History of Global Migrations documents the lives and experiences of everyday people through the lens of human movement and mobility from 1400 to 1800. Focusing on the most important typologies of preindustrial global migrations, this volume reveals how these movements transformed global paths of mobility, the impacts of which we still see in societies today. Case studies include those that arose from the demand for free, forced, and unfree labor, long- and short-distance trade, rural/urban displacement, religious mobility, and the rise of the number of refugees worldwide. With thirty chapters from leading experts in the field, this authoritative volume is an essential and detailed study of how migration shaped the nature of global human interactions before the age of modern globalization.

The essay begins by discussing the debatable relationship between narratives of Black Atlantic chattel slavery and discourses of contemporary slavery in a global context. While some scholars are wary about conflating two different historical experiences, others see a useful link between past slavery and current trafficking. Uwem Akpan’s story “Fattening for Gabon” invokes the earlier trajectory of chattel slavery to the Americas but insists on a specific, local history of enslavement within Nigeria that locates it within a growing literature revealing West African internal involvement in past and present slave trade and trafficking. By restricting a global trafficking route to one origin in Nigeria, Akpan emphasizes local conditions of poverty and societal breakdown that lead to child trafficking in Nigeria and other African countries. I argue that even if Akpan ultimately borrows from the conventional slave narratives of the Black Atlantic, his attention is not solely or even primarily on the Middle Passage but on the First Passage when Africans captured other Africans to bring them to the coast for trade. Past and present are brought together in a continuum rather than as the rupture of the Middle Passage.

The first chapter of this book begins with understanding of African histories as the headspring of cultural and political expressions in Saint Domingue, with the hopes of uncovering Africans’ and African descendants’ epistemological and ontological core. The chapter gives an overview of the African origins of slave trade captives through the lens of several themes: religion, warfare, rebellion, slavery, and anti-slavery sentiment. The chapter focuses on regions and ethnic groups most affected by French trading to Saint Domingue: Aradas and Nagô/Yorubas from the Bight of Benin, and KiKongo-speaking peoples of West Central Africa. A survey of those political cultures, African slavery and the French Atlantic slave trade, and coastal and slave ship resistances demonstrates that Africans’ consciousness was imbued with complex localized ideas about the nature of slavery – and legacies of resistance to it – before disembarking at Saint Domingue.

In “Dislocating the Reader,” I use psychoanalytic theory to think about how the language of Toni Morrison’s Beloved works on readers. Placing the text of Beloved into dialogue with Jean Laplanche’s theory of the belated time of trauma enables me to think through the ethical and emotional effects of Beloved’s delayed narrative structure on readers. Visual images from the past lives of the characters intrude into the narrative, without explanation; in confusing the reader, these intrusions convey the distortions of time, thought, and memory that disturb these survivors of slavery’s traumas. The chapter centers on the main character, Sethe. I read the mothering practices of Sethe and of her own slave mother through the lens of historical research on actual slave mothers, who were torn between the demands of the master for their labor and the needs of their babies for their time. Throughout, the chapter attends to the difficulties of writing Beloved, as Morrison herself explained them in interviews: to capture the psychic damages inflicted by slavery on her ex-slave characters Morrison had to invent a new narrative language.

The first chapter of this book begins with understanding of African histories as the headspring of cultural and political expressions in Saint Domingue, with the hopes of uncovering Africans’ and African descendants’ epistemological and ontological core. The chapter gives an overview of the African origins of slave trade captives through the lens of several themes: religion, warfare, rebellion, slavery, and anti-slavery sentiment. The chapter focuses on regions and ethnic groups most affected by French trading to Saint Domingue: Aradas and Nagô/Yorubas from the Bight of Benin, and KiKongo-speaking peoples of West Central Africa. A survey of those political cultures, African slavery and the French Atlantic slave trade, and coastal and slave ship resistances demonstrates that Africans’ consciousness was imbued with complex localized ideas about the nature of slavery – and legacies of resistance to it – before disembarking at Saint Domingue.

Violence permeated every aspect of the slave trade. By the late eighteenth century, highlighting the violence in the trade was a central plank of an emerging abolitionist campaign against the institution. The slave trade seemed to presage the worst features of a developing merchant capitalism. It was out of step with rising Enlightenment ideas of sentimental attachment to others. It came to be seen as an almost uniquely horrible industry, one that, however valuable it was to European commerce, needed to be ended as soon as possible. But if the slave trade was a scene of horrors, it also aroused a different emotion – terror. The careful application of violence was central to every part of the slave trade experience. The anticipation of such violence was carefully used as a tool by participants in the trade to keep captive Africans in check, and helps to explain the transformation of African captives into enslaved persons. The terror of the slave trade can be seen graphically in James Field Stanfield’s The Guinea Voyage. Stanfield used mechanistic metaphors to describe the trade. He showed how captives and sailors were kept powerless so that the ‘vast machine’ could make money for British and African merchants.