A Banner Held High

Mary Church Terrell did just that. Mary Church, known as Mollie, was born in Memphis, Tennessee, in 1863, the year of the Emancipation Proclamation. Her parents decided to send her to Ohio for school, first to the town of Yellow Springs, and then to Oberlin. Her father was one of the wealthiest black men in the South, having invested in real estate, and her mother owned a Memphis hair salon when it was uncommon for women to own businesses. It was in Yellow Springs when Mollie Church first realized she was “descended from the very slaves who the Emancipation Proclamation set free.” She was the only black girl in her class, and as a result, felt she “must hold high the banner of [her] race.”

Mollie Church continued to “hold high the banner of her race” at Oberlin High School,
where she was one of three black students out of 12 in total. She prepared to enroll in the Classical Course at the college, rather than the Literary Course that was generally pursued by women and did not confer a degree. Her friends protested that no black man would want to marry her if she held a bachelor’s degree, but she remained undeterred.

“I could not see how any student could have enjoyed the activities of college life more than I did,” Terrell wrote in her memoir. She considered her studies an “indoor sport” and excelled in them, particularly in Latin and Greek. Her education enabled her later work as an activist, but her college years were instrumental in another way: Oberlin cultivated her strength of character and sense of justice. At Oberlin, she learned, “one could secure permission to do almost anything within reason,” and she took advantage of that; she visited Cleveland to see Shakespeare productions, although the college prohibited theatergoing, and she obtained permission to study until midnight when the curfew was 10 p.m. Just as she danced in the gymnasium in Ladies’ Hall, she ensured that the college’s strict rules did not prohibit her from what she believed to be fair.

Terrell’s time in the Aelioian Society, a women’s literary society where members engaged in public debates, was also crucial in training her for her future work. In the Aelioian, she honed her highly acclaimed public speaking skills. She held most of the elected positions in the society, preparing her for her later work in the women’s club movement, including serving as the first president of the National Association of Colored Women, an organization that fought for social and political equality, and as founder of the College Alumnae Club, an organization for black female college graduates.

Terrell’s interest in poetry flourished at Oberlin, and she maintained an interest in writing poetry and literature throughout her life. Her peers recognized her talent as a freshman, and she hoped to be elected to deliver a poem at the Junior Exhibition in 1883. Chosen instead was a white male student who was not known for his literary prowess. She wrote in her memoir: “There is no doubt whatever that...the fact that I am colored prevented me from receiving the honor which many members of my class thought I deserved.”

After graduating, Terrell was determined to put her education to good use. She traveled throughout Europe, making connections with Oberlin alumni wherever she went. She taught at Wilberforce College in Ohio and M Street Colored High School in Washington, D.C., where she met her future husband, Robert Terrell.

Forced to leave her teaching post after marriage, Terrell grappled with reconciling her Oberlin education with becoming a housewife. She wrote in her diary: “house-keeping is a regular sepulcher in which a woman who wants to accomplish something buries her talent and time.” Instead, she poured her energy into her political work: she chartered the Colored Women’s League with her Oberlin classmate, Anna Julia Cooper; traveled the lecture circuit, first as president of the National Association of Colored Women and later as an esteemed orator in her own right; and served on the board of education for the District of Columbia, the first black woman to do so. Between 1910 and 1920, she was involved in at least 29 different clubs and regularly attended their meetings. She was also integral to the formation of the National Association of the Advancement of Colored People.

“She never gave up—she was always scanning the environment to see where to make useful coalitions on behalf of racial and gender justice,” Lasser says.

In 1911, she sought to return to Oberlin to give a lecture on Harriet Beecher Stowe. College President Henry Churchill King wrote that although an address by Terrell “would certainly not fail to be of special interest,” he rebuffed her by saying that the Lecture Committee felt there had already been a sufficient number of lectures on “the race problem” at that time. It wouldn’t be the last time King heard from Terrell.

Two years later, Terrell’s daughters, Mary Louise and Phyllis—then attending Oberlin— were assigned to segregated housing. Terrell renewed her correspondence with King, writing of her concerns regarding the treatment of Black students. She wrote: “Altho [sic] I try to be optimistic in this wicked and cruel country...nothing has come so near forcing me to give up hope...than the heart-breaking back-sliding of Oberlin College. If there had not been brave and generous-hearted men who believed in opening the door of opportunity and hope to Colored people, there would have been no Oberlin College at all.”

When King did not adequately address her concerns, Terrell turned to poetry, once the cause of disappointment when she was an Oberlin student:

“‘Too many colored Students’, the secretary said,
‘Why three percent is far too large’,
And then he shook his head.
It grieves the secretary
That Oberlin should force
White students to associate
With Colored ones, of course.”

Although Terrell ultimately withdrew her daughters from Oberlin, her relationship with King remained cordial. The college considered her for an honorary degree in 1935, the centennial of the college’s decision to admit Black students, but ultimately passed her over. She was discouraged, believing that conferring an honorary degree on a Black woman on the centennial would be a “vindication or justification of the faith which the founders of the college reposed in the race while it was still enslaved.” However, 15 years later, Oberlin conferred on Terrell an honorary degree, the first awarded to a Black woman in Oberlin’s history.

“From everything I’ve read and heard from her family, she loved Oberlin,” Ken Grossi says. “She had these complicated relationships with the college, but I think it was because she cared about the place.”

For years, Terrell meticulously detailed the activities of her days in her journals. In 1953, the last year of her life, she had just won the historic fight to integrate eating establishments in Washington, D.C., but she continued to write regular accounts. However, instead of recording her doings in an unremarkable journal, she used a day-planner gifted to her by Oberlin President William Stevenson, filled with scenes of Oberlin.

A Day to Honor—and Make—History

The official ceremony to name the main library after Mary Church Terrell took place October 6, 2018, during a weekend brimming with celebration: the inauguration of Carmen Twillie Ambar as Oberlin’s 15th president and the reunion of Oberlin Alumni of African Ancestry (OA4). Two faculty members instrumental in the renaming—Pamela Brooks, the Jane and Eric Nord Associate Professor of Africana Studies, and Carol Lasser, emerita professor of history—joined Oberlin College Trustee Lillie Edwards ’75, OA4 cochair Carolyn Cunningham Ash ’91, Azariah Smith Root Director of Libraries Alexia Hudson-Ward, and President Ambar in marking the occasion, which included the presentation of original letters belonging to Terrell by Raymond Langston, a Terrell descendent, to Oberlin College Archivist Ken Grossi.

“Again, Oberlin makes history, serving as a progenitor by placing ourselves at the center of an important national conversation regarding who is deserving of the honor of a named space on college campuses,” proclaimed Hudson- Ward. “We assert our leadership position by recognizing the extraordinary accomplishments of this legendary alumna of African descent who typified how one person can change the world.”

Lasser thanked, among others, her students over the years who have been inspired by Terrell. “May this renaming mark our rededication and our determination to reframe our references and our history.”

After acknowledging her predecessor, Adrienne Lash Jones, emerita professor of African American studies, who died on August 28, 2018, Brooks said she hoped the day’s events would be an inspiration for social change. “In this historical context of today, when all around us this country is tearing itself apart in vicious, partisan battles over the air we breathe, the water we drink, whether we can respect the lives of young black people and the bodies of women, our reason for coming together today can bring renewed hope of a certain kind.

“We recognize that certain worn-out tropes and monuments to white supremacy must come down and that celebrations of this sort must take their place,” she added.

Edwards also pointed to the importance of place-naming in signaling the values held by those doing the naming.

“There is power in claiming space and place, claiming a location, claiming ownership, and claiming a name,” said Edwards. “Today, Mary Church Terrell, on behalf of all people who believe that intelligence is the torch of wisdom, on behalf of all people who believe in learning and labor, on behalf of all people who are bold enough to specialize in the wholly impossible, on behalf of all people who believe in social justice and human rights, Mary Church Terrell claims and names this space and this place on the campus of Oberlin College in Oberlin, Ohio.”

Edwards said she envisions visitors passing by Terrell’s name while entering the library and viewing the library as “a space where the life of the mind is tied to the quality of life; a space where the life of the mind is inextricably linked to the struggle for human rights; a place where tradition looks back and vision looks forward to transform the world.”

Ash, an educator who introduced herself as “such a proud alum, especially today,” said, “there is no greater honor than to teach the next generation and also to have an epicenter of learning—a library— named after you. We hope that Mary Church Terrell is smiling on all of us and this institution right now. We owe her so much.”

Langston presented a box of Terrell’s original letters, which he hoped would allow for a more intimate look at Terrell’s life beyond her civil rights work. Noting that the library’s exhibit on Terrell contained no photographs of Terrell’s husband, Judge Robert Terrell, Langston pledged to donate one to the Oberlin College Archives.

“Through these letters, we have learned an aspect of her life that is not widely known. She had a marvelous sense of humor, and it comes out in these letters. In one letter she wrote, ‘I thought you had died because I had not received a letter from you in two weeks.’”

Before making the naming official by proclamation, Ambar pointed out that Terrell continued to support Oberlin, even during times of conflict with Oberlin and its president, Henry Churchill King. “You will see in her engagement with Oberlin that she never wavered,” Ambar said. “She still was connected to the institution. She still was engaged with the institution. She still donated to the institution. Because she loved the place and wanted to be involved in the remaking of the institution, even when there were times when she wasn’t happy about particular things.”

Ambar said she hoped that today’s Oberlin alumni would be inspired by that example. “We need you to find the one thing we can agree on, and work on that.” — Jeff Hagan, former OAM Editor

Rebekkah Rubin ’13 is a public historian and writer.