History has always fueled my imagination. Black History, in particular, ignites a proud wonder inside of me. As members of a diaspora spawned from the evil of chattel slavery, most black people realize the past is never really past. It often walks hand-in-hand with the present and shapes the future, negatively and positively.
I first learned about the “Tulsa Riot” while searching for more information on Rosewood, Florida back in the late 2000s. Greenwood’s existence and it’s even lesser-known resilience after the massacre inspired me to tell Black Wall Street’s story over a decade later from the perspective of a young woman who survives and thrives along with the community. When I read that at least 6 Greenwood residents owned airplanes prior to the massacre, I decided my protagonist, Ava Odell, would be a barnstormer who owned one of those planes.
The other thing I wanted to do from the outset of writing the Nubian Barnstormer series was delve into black history spanning World War I and World War II. Besides novels that explore the Harlem Renaissance, there’s a dearth of literature covering black life during this period.
Ava and her family, friends and acquaintances are all fictional. If you know about aviation pioneer Bessie Coleman, you probably think she was my inspiration for Ava. But she wasn’t: I knew Bessie died at the age of 34 in a tragic plane accident prior to the Great Depression. Other than that, I knew she was celebrated domestically and internationally.
However, during my research on black life in Oklahoma during Ava’s formative years, I found out that the college I wanted her to graduate from, Colored Agricultural and Normal University, was the same one Bessie attended! I took this as a sign that Bessie approved of my Ava and the story I hoped to write.
Also, I knew Ava’s life partner would be a WWI veteran so I could examine black participation in the World Wars: the obstacles, triumphs and reactions within and outside of the black community. I just wasn’t sure how I’d have them meet. Once I discovered Bessie went to France not only to learn how to fly but also to receive the first international pilot’s license held by an American, again, I felt she was guiding me. I already knew about the Negro WWI veterans who fought with the French (many remained and became ex-pats), so I crafted the development of Ava’s professional and romantic life from there.
History buffs are probably familiar with the models for some of the important people in Ava’s story: Ida B. Wells-Barnett, W.E.B. DuBois, Robert S. Abbott and many more. I considered going the route of using these real-life figures as it’s done in movies like The Prestige (2006) and Hugo (2011), but I decided against it.
For example, if I’d included Ida B. Wells-Barnett, her age at the time would have made her another mother figure. I wanted Ava to have a socially conscious, intelligent, inspirational older sister, the character Kathy Anne Dawton-Meade, instead.
And W.E.B. Du Bois may have had faults, but not the ones displayed by the character X.J. Morgan. Besides providing a way to comment on leaders who share those same faults, I used X.J. Morgan to highlight the amazing influence and acts of Du Bois—like his holding a meeting of his Pan African Congress in Paris to pressure Western powers to grant black civil rights and to decolonize Africa as part of the Treaty of Versailles to end WWI. Those things didn’t happen, but it was still a ballsy move.
So, my first reason to use fictional characters instead of the historical figures was that with the fictional characters, I had flexibility to create people I needed to tell the story.
The other reason is that even though people may no longer exist in this plane of existence, I do believe that every soul that has walked this earth has a personality and a spirit unique to them that should be respected and cherished.
That’s why I chose not to use the real names of those involved in the Tulsa Massacre—particularly the black people. I have no idea what the personas of Dick Rowland, O.W. Gurley and B.C. Franklin (father of one of my heroes, historian John Hope Franklin) were.
Instead of giving them fictional mannerisms and traits, I decided to explore actual events through fictional characters who represent the residents of a close-knit community. To honor those who died during the horrific incident, I used different first and last name combinations of the Black deceased—again to honor them and respect their surviving relations who actually knew or heard through family tales about who they were as people.
So how does Black Wall Street’s story relate to today? The massacre was not only an effort to erase Black existence, but after it occurred, Tulsa and the state of Oklahoma tried to erase the incident from the news. And news from the past becomes history tomorrow’s history. What happened in the case of Greenwood was not only the erasure of the massacre, but also erasure of its comeback. Government of officials and others erased the story from public records: including from newspaper archives and subsequently, from history.
The survivors and those who moved to Greenwood to take part in its rebuilding actually exceed what it had been. Understandably, many didn’t want to dwell on the incident, so succeeding generations who grew up in the community had little to no idea it had even occurred. In my research, I read many comments from younger Black residents who said they never knew about it and didn’t learn about it in school.
Today, Black people face ongoing physical and psychological attacks. The purposeful attempt to erase the massacre and not teach about it in Oklahoma schools is now replicated in state anti-CRT measures that have passed around the country. Ninety percent of those who push this agenda have no idea and don’t care what Critical Race Theory actually is. This is a backlash to the election of the first Black President of the United States for two terms.
Their fear of losing “power” has also led to everything from the murder of ten Black people in Buffalo, NY in May to the January 6, 2021 insurrection. The same way that Black World War I veterans proudly walking the streets in towns and cities across the country led to the Red Summer of 1919. And resentment of Greenwood’s economic success while white Tulsa suffered economic woes that began with an oil price slump set the environment for the Tulsa Massacre.
To me, Greenwood’s resurrection, especially in 1920s – 1940s Oklahoma, shows that hope through adversity is ingrained in us. Yes, integration and urban renewal reduced the physical size of the community. And, unfortunately, the last court hearing for reparations to the last three remaining survivors and survivors descendants just happened May 2nd of this year.
But these are evidence of our resilience and courage. As long as we have both, we can fight against evil with hope!