On James Baldwin's The Evidence of Things Not Seen
From 1979 to 1981 two dozen Black children were killed in Atlanta by what has been long thought to be a serial killer. In 1982, Wayne Williams, a black man was convicted of killing two men, but prosecutors relied heavily on the possible link between him and the deaths of these children to essentially close the case— no one has ever been tried and convicted of killing any of these children.
James Baldwin left the comfort of his sabbatical in Europe to investigate the murders— in his preface stating:
“Walter Lowe, of Playboy wrote to me— to my home in France— suggesting that I go to Atlanta to do a story concerning the missing and (as it evolved) murdered children. I had been following the story— what there was, that is, in the foreign press, to follow. It is not so easy to follow a story occurring in one’s own country from the vantage point of another one.” ”
But Baldwin seemingly knew exactly what he was returning to, “after all, what I remembered— or imagined myself to remember— of my life in America was terror.” And terror indeed, did he return to.
In the year 2023, James Baldwin’s last book The Evidence of Things Not Seen was reissued, with a new foreword from political leader and New York Times bestselling author Stacey Abrams. I do find this to be a particular interesting choice, considering who catches heat in this work. In The Evidence of Things Not Seen, Baldwin offers a searing reflection on this case, questioning the conviction by way of public opinion of Wayne Williams, and critiques Atlanta’s Black administration:
The presence of Black administration —as distinguished, perhaps, from an incontestable actuality— proved that the “city too busy to hate could not be accused of administering “Southern” justice. It proved nothing of the sort, not only because Atlanta belongs to the state of Georgia but because Georgia belongs to the United States.
He continues:
“The optimistic ferocity of this cosmetic job is the principal, if not the only reason for the presence, in some cities, of the Black mayor. It is absolutely safe to say that this phenomenon is, on the part of the Republic, cynical. It is a concession masking the face of power, which remains White. The presence of these beleaguered Black men—some of whom, after all, putting it brutally, may or may not be for sale— threatens the power of the Republic far less than would their absence.
Cities, in any event, are controlled by states, and these United States are controlled by the real aspirations of Washington. All governments, without exception, make only those concessions deemed absolutely necessary for the status quo; and if one really wishes to know how highly this public esteems Black freedom, one has only to watch the American performance in the world. ”
The Mayor at the time was Maynard Jackson, a Black man, and Atlanta’s first. Jackson worked hard to integrate the police force and a Black police chief oversaw the investigation. At Wayne Williams' trial it was a Black judge who sentenced him to life. I would encourage everyone to check out the article “When James Baldwin Wrote About the Atlanta Child Murders” from The New Yorker. Baldwin continues to highlight that what was seen as progress, having Black faces in high places, did not equate to anything more than maintaining the status quo. The victims of this crime, all black, all poor, mostly young boys, never received the rigorous investigation that would be given had these been white children. With the sentencing of Wayne Williams came the end of this case.
I couldn’t help but think of the current discussion of the murder of Tyre Nichols by 5 Black police officers as Baldwin spoke about being guided around Atlanta by the Black Atlanta police force— he first thinks of his time growing up “Black policemen were another matter. We used to say, ‘If you must call a policeman’— for we hardly ever did—for God’s sake, try to make sure it’s a White one. A Black policeman could completely demolish you.” He gives a bit of historical context. Interestingly, Atlanta police when first hired to the force (In 1948, the First African-American police officers went on duty on Auburn Ave, April 3 and by 1955, there were 15 officers on the police force) were not permitted to arrest White people. Then connecting that to what he viewed in the present he states:
When I tried to compare their situation in Atlanta, now, with the situation I remember from my youth in Harlem, I found myself facing a void icier than the meer passage of time. The cops I remembered had known what the community felt about them, and it hadn’t seemed to matter. Here, they knew too, that many elements of the community distrusted them, but the knowledge seemed to sting.
We arrive in 2023, where nothing has changed other than the system expanding right along with that distrust. Though these feelings may sting Black and brown officers who join the force to allegedly make a change, it hasn’t stung enough for them to remove themselves from this system of policing that has always been inherently racist. We have arrived in 2023, and a young Black man is used as “a human piñata for those police officers. It was an unadulterated, unabashed, nonstop beating of this young boy for three minutes. That is what we saw in that video,” according to the Nichols’ family attorney.
The Evidence of Things Not Seen was an eerie read, for the simple fact that Baldwin’s words fit too perfectly in the present day. He cries “Lord. The words sound, now, so beautifully naive, so trusting. For we felt, then— or rather the people who were handling me felt, then— that we had only to prove our worth and no one could deny our right to live in our country, as free as all other citizens.” The Evidence of Things Not Seen is a dose of reality amongst the hopeful writings, marketed as anti-racist literature that coddle the white reader and give false hope to the Black, that reforms and DEI will carry us into a brighter future. 50 years ago Baldwin said “Others may see American progress in economic, racial, and social affairs— I do not.”
Baldwin did not sugarcoat, he did not naively believe that he would see progress in his lifetime. But he told us directly that there needs to be a change. Or we will continue to fail our children, like those that were murdered in Atlanta and never saw a modicum of what could be considered justice. Or even the hundreds who disappeared and no one cared. We will fail those like Wayne Williams (who Baldwin says must be added to the list of Atlanta’s slaughtered Black children”, a Black man held in legalized bondage. We will continue to fail ourselves. So there must be a radical change— that we are all responsible for.
““History, I contend, is the present— we, with every breath we take, every move we make, are History— and what goes around, comes around.””
