An alternate history of South Carolina and the Atlantic region based upon the premise that the Yemassee War and the Stono Rebellion were successful and led to a very different development of the Atlantic region both in North America and in western Africa.
"The history of black radical political involvement in the US is directly tied to issues of racism, inequity and marginality. In socialism, anarchism, communism and other radical movements, African-Americans found ideologies whose visions sought to deconstruct the rigid hierarchical structures that dominated Victorian and popular Western thought. From the founding of the NAACP to the African Blood Brotherhood, these radicals attacked racism, class-ism, limited gender constructions and sought to overturn the entire global colonialist venture. Even if such political strategies inevitably fell short of their many lofty goals, they remain nevertheless embedded in the political history of black struggle. And our collective political re-imagined past of monocles, gears and airships is all the richer for it. "
(although this is technically April's non-story post!)
Captain Willie, like all good pirate captains, had quite a taste for luxury. Airships, much like their sea-going brethren, were short on comfort although they compensated for this with a gracious plenty of adventure. This fact caused him to feel no end of appreciation for the indulgences freely available at his home port.
With over a century under its proverbial belt the House of Bacchus was a well-respected, if not entire respectable establishment. Not to mention that it was well-stocked with wine, women and song. It was entirely to the Captain’s taste with first-class food, excellent beer and high-stepping dancers. Not to mention that some of the dancers there did seem to be a wee bit sweet on him and he did know the password needed to be admitted through the staff entrance. Add to that the free trays of food backstage that were sent down from the upstairs restaurant and his enthusiasm was understandable.
On the other hand Kennia’s favorite haunt was the French Theatre since it had aerialists as well as singers and dancers. The French Theatre was founded in 1794 and was a Charleston landmark whose performers came from all over the world and had a wondrous variety of accoutrements and costumes. She revelled in the decadent atmosphere! It was the perfect contrast to her work which was cramped, dirty and often dangerous. Here she could unleash her frivolous side and revel in a bohemian atmosphere.
Here's the support graphic I copied off a Facebook page. As far as I know it is free for anyone's use.
And a BIG SHOUT-OUT to the folks at Columbiana Centre in Columbia, South Carolina for being real-life cool folks and respecting Idle No More last Saturday, 16 February 2013. According to one participant: "We were told by security that "someone" had alerted them. . . they were so very kind and helped us find a good spot and protected us. You can see some Lexington County police who were called out to meet us (again, by "someone") and the mall security told them it was OK and to let us be. We were all very grateful that Columbiana Centre was so hospitable and very thankful to the security guards."
Tira stayed with her sister when she was in town. Yolanda was a widow and 3 of her four daughters had grown-up and left home so Tira bunked with her when she was in-and-about Charleston.“Hey y’all, I’m back now” she hollered as she let herself in the front door of the little cottage. But she wasn’t surprised that the small cottage was empty during the middle of the day. Yolanda was almost certainly at the small café she owned and operated in another part of town and Lord only knew where to find her harum-scarum youngest girl. Almost certainly not in school in any case.
Tira sighed and carried her bags over the threshold and into the hall. Now that she was here she felt at a bit of a loss for what to do with herself. Once thing was for certain, she was too tired to go out to a pub or a public bath house. Instead she took her belongings into the back bedroom and just left them sitting on the floor. Tira decided to make-do with a quick hand and face wash-up in the kitchen.
She hunted through the wardrobe in the bedroom and found a freshly washed nightgown to change into. “Nice to have some peace and privacy for a change” she muttered as she sank onto the daybed. Clean sheets and a genuine mattress, what a luxurious feeling! No wonder her eyes closed and her breathing deepened only seconds after she pulled the bedclothes over her.
She woke several hours later to find a boy of about 12 years of age staring at her.
“Who’re you?” she asked.
“I’m Benjamin. Why are you sleeping in my bed?”
Tira sat up, now completely woken, and stared. “Your bed? This is my sister’s house and this is the bed I sleep in.”
Benjamin ran out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. He hollered “Aunty Yolanda! There’s a strange lady here and she is sleepin’ in ma bed!”
Yolanda laughed, “Honey, thats just my sista, Tira. You don’t need to be scared about her. She ain’t gonna eat ya fer dinner or nuthin’ like that. She loves children!”
“So how come she ain’t got none of her own with her?”
“I’ve got a son but he’s all grown-up now and on his own.”
Benjamin looked sceptical but slowly nodded his head. Maybe the strange lady wasn’t so scary after all.