Faith, Protest, and Progress
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Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: H. Elsie Austin, Faith, Protest, and Progress, bahai-library.com.
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2   THE J O U R N A L OF B A H Á ' Í S T U D I E S   8.2.1998

H. Elsie Austin
Atlanta, November 10,1990
Ninth Hasan M. Balyúzí Memorial Lecture

Faith, Protest, and Progress*
H. Elsie Austin

Abstract
Spirituality or faith requires individuals to embody the principles and values
that promote the positive development of human beings and human society.
Confronted with aspects o f human society that are inconsistent with those
principles, individuals may be faced with the necessity of protest. Protest does
not have to mean violence, but rather the courage to reject the false and unjust.
Such protest based on faith can have a transforming effect on both the
individual and society. In this essay, examples from the experience of African
Americans are used to demonstrate the transforming effect on society of
individual courageous acts.

Résumé
La spiritualité ou la foi requiert que les individus manifestent les principes et
les valeurs qui favorisent l ’épanouissement des êtres humains et de la société
humaine. Lorsqu’ils sont confrontés à des aspects de la société humaine qui
sont incompatibles avec ces principes, les individus peuvent devoir recourir à la
protestation. La protestation ne signifie pas nécessairement de recourir à la
violence, mais plutôt de rejeter courageusement ce qui est faux et injuste. Une
telle protestation fondée sur la foi peut avoir un effet transformateur tant sur
l ’individu que sur la société. Cet article démontre, par des exemples tirés de
l ’expérience des Américains d ’origine africaine, comment des gestes courageux
posés par des individus peuvent avoir un effet transformateur sur la société.

Resumen
La espiritualidad o fe requiere que los individuos encarnen los principios y
valores que promueven el desarrollo positivo de los seres humanos y de la
sociedad humana. Al presentárseles aspectos de la sociedad no consistentes con
aquellos principios, los individuos quizd se enfrenten con la necesidad de
protestar. La protesta no necesariamente significa violencia, sino tener el valor
de rechazar lofalso y lo injusto. Taies protestas basadas en fe pueden efectuar
una transformación tanto en el individuo como en la sociedad. En esta
disertaciôn, se busca demostrar ese efecto transformador sobre la sociedad de
los actos individuales valerosos, usando ejemplos de lo experimentado por los
americanos de origen africano.

* Presented as the Ninth Hasan M. Balyúzí Memorial Lecture, at the 15th Annual Conference of
the Association for Bahà’i Studies, Atlanta, Georgia, November 10, 1990.
4          THE J O U R N A L OF B A H À ’ Î S T U D I E S              8.2.1998

recall a passage in one of the Bahà’i prayers, which says, “He whom the
I    grace of Thy mercy aideth, though he be but a drop, shall become the
boundless ocean . . . ” (Bahà’i Prayers 32). If there is anything of value in what
you see before you, let us say it is from the grace of God. I am deeply grateful
to the Association for Bahà’i Studies for the privilege of sharing in the
consultations of this conference. It is my hope that the follow through of the
conference, when we all return to our home communities, will motivate us to
significant attitudes and activities for positive change. My invitation to this
evening asked me to share with you some of my personal experiences. This I
shall do in the perspective of three things: faith, protest, and progress.
Every human being born into this world begins a lifelong adventure of
becoming and of overcoming the challenges of human experience. In the
process of belief in a higher power and a purpose for existence, we are led to
faith, a spiritual experience that both guides and empowers us to choose the
values which promote, through action and reaction, the development of human
beings and human society.
In dealing with human experience, one must accept or reject that which is
inconsistent with the values and principles that one holds. In so doing, one may be
faced with the necessity of protest. Protest is not necessarily violent or offensive
action. To me, it is a consistent and abiding expression in attitude and action of an
individual’s deep commitment to values and principles that lead to progress and
noble development of the human being and human society. The courage and
commitment to reject that which is false and unjust involves a transforming
spiritual power, and it is in this sense that, as ‘Abdu'1-Bahá so beautifully
expressed it, “Every child is potentially the light of the world—and at the same
time its darkness . . . ” (Selectionsfrom the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahci 130).
In the struggle to handle and make sense of various human experiences, a
Bahà’i learns to view them with perspective and to see in the situations
confronting her or him a part of the process of human development, both for the
individual and society. This is, I believe, the beginning of wisdom and deeper
understanding. Thus, I have striven to understand my life as a member of an
ethnic minority experiencing so many unpredictable, challenging, and abrasive
encounters, and I have tried to relate them, in experiencing them, to a world
perspective on the slow and often painful progress of human beings in all areas
of this world.
This is to say that I, as an African American in the United States, understand
that I could just as well be speaking as an Irish person brought up in England.
Or, I could be a Jew in Poland, an Armenian in Turkey, a Chinese person who is
not a member of the prevailing Han group in China, a Korean who must
encounter the Japanese, a member of the untouchable caste in India, a Bahà’i in
Iran, and an Ibo in Northern Nigeria. The need to meet—and overcome—
experiences of injustice, oppression, and animosity is part of the human
environment. It is that perspective in understanding what goes on in life which
Fai th, P r o te s t, a n d P r o g r e s s                    5

has helped me to meet the challenges of human experiences more successfully
and has counteracted the feelings of revenge and the susceptibility to hatred that
come so easily.
In analyzing the challenges of my life as an African American in these United
States, I see three periods, and experiences from them, which have had great
influence on me. First, the pre-civil rights period of survival; next, the period of
focus on civil rights; and last, the period of focus on human rights. This is the
atmosphere in which I grew up and in which you are growing up also.
In the period of pre-civil rights, which I call “the period of survival,” there
were no laws to protect the individual or a community of minority status. For an
African American, there was a daily encounter with rejection, danger, and
persecution based on prejudice and hostility. African-American survived in this
period by using the defenses they had developed during the period of slavery.
They learned to pool their strength in their segregated schools and churches, and
other improvement organizations, where they were able to develop and promote
the spirit of self-help, and to devise educational measures that stimulated
motivation, a sense of self-worth and dignity, and action to persevere in
overcoming obstacles and to achieve excellence. This was a period of great
education for me. In this atmosphere I grew up protected by my family and
community, motivated to overcome and achieve against great odds, and even to
expect the abrasive challenges that were to come. The stories of my family
prepared me for conflict. The religious teachings I was taught stressed faith and
efforts to overcome adversity. Looking back, it is extremely interesting to me
that the African Americans, brought to this country in slavery and taught
Christianity, never accepted Christianity as a religion that would make them
accept slavery and injustice. The Bible verses they studied, the spiritual songs
they invented and sang, emphasized hope for a better time. And in accepting the
belief in one God and in humanity as God’s children, they, too, chose to believe
that even as the children of Israel were delivered from slavery and degradation
in Egypt, their time would come and that some day they would achieve
freedom, dignity, and recognition in the family of humankind.
My parents and their relatives told me two particular stories that have had a
great influence on my life. The first was told to me by my mother about my
maternal great-grandmother, Louisa Dodson, who married Mentor Dodson, a
preacher. Both were born in slavery, but when slavery was ended. Mentor
Dodson was elected to the House of Representatives of Alabama. Mentor’s
election made him a target for the Ku Klux Klan, and there were few nights
when he could get to his home and be with his family. As the story goes, one
night, my great-grandmother Louisa was lying in bed with labor pains, for she
was expecting the birth of her last child. The Klan came to her house, broke in
the door, and came to her bedroom. She was alone with just her children.
Pointing guns at her, they demanded that she tell them where her husband was.
She looked them straight in the eye and said, “I won’t tell you where he is.” At
6          TH E J O U R N A L OF B A H A ’ I S T U D I E S            8.2.1998

this, they fired bullets into the headstand of her bed and insisted that she tell
them where to find him, or they would kill her. She said, “Just go ahead and kill
me, because I will never tell you where he is.” After more curses and threats
and shots, they decided not to kill her and left. I was awed and inspired by that
story, by her courage—a lone woman in a hostile, dangerous environment, and
her determination not to give in to injustice and oppression, even at the risk of
death. I have in certain incidents of my own life been reminded of and relied
upon the memory of her courage and her strength.
The second story is about my paternal great-grandfather, McCracken, who
was forced to leave his family when he was a young boy. As this story goes,
McCracken’s family were in slavery, but when their slave-master died, he left a
will granting freedom to the slave family and giving them money to get them
passage on one of the “freedom ships,” which would take them to Liberia, then
being resettled with freed slaves. The State of Kentucky, where they lived, gave
the freedom and the money to the family, but refused to give it to little
McCracken, a minor son. They said he would have to remain a ward of the State
until he became of age and that his family could not be paid the money for him.
Thus, that family was forced to the painful decision of deciding whether to give
up the possibility of going away from a slave state and settling in a free area and
leaving behind a minor child, or staying in Kentucky and keeping their son with
the family. Can you imagine how they must have prayed and consulted about
such a decision? They decided to take the money and the freedom and go to
Liberia, because they knew the risks of being a freed slave in slave territory, but
before they went, they urged young McCracken to go up into the Kentucky
mountains and attach himself to a family of mountaineers. Now, you must
understand that the mountaineers of Kentucky and Tennessee were the “po’
white trash” who could not even afford the economic system of slavery, so they
kept no slaves. This little boy went up into the mountains alone, found a family
with the grace of God, took their name, and stayed with that family. He
eventually married a mountaineer girl and raised a family of his own. His birth
family went on to Liberia, where I was never able to find any trace of them.
They may have died, or how they may have survived, 1 do not know. In any
event, young McCracken, grown up and with a family of his own, was needled
by the desire to improve his lot in life. So he quietly moved back from the
mountains to a Kentucky city, obtaining work as a janitor in a bank, and there
he managed to save and to buy a home.
One day, when he and his family were together, there was a knock at the
door. He answered, and there stood a white visitor, who introduced himself as
the son of their former master, who had dropped by “to see how they were
doing.” While the visitor was there, he saw McCracken’s young daughter Jane,
who was a very beautiful girl. He told McCracken that he would like to take
Jane, bring her up, and educate her. McCracken did not take kindly to this idea.
He said that he did not want to separate his children—he wanted to bring up and
F a i th , P r o t e s t , a n d P r o g r e s s              7

educate his own children. The visitor did not seem to like this very much, and
said, “Now, don’t give me any trouble! I am going to take that girl and educate
her, and you just have her ready for me when I return in a few days.” With that,
he left. Now, here is McCracken, still in a slave state, though he is emancipated,
working as a janitor. He’s managed to have a family and to establish himself,
and here is trouble, looming large as life.
The next day, he went to his employer and with great resolution said, “Sir,
I’m going to be in trouble, and I want you to know why.” He then told him of
the visitor and his demand, and with great resolution said to his employer, “If
this man comes back, and attempts to take my child, I am going to kill him.”
The employer said, “Oh! Think about that! You know that if you do that, there
will be a lynching in this city, and there will be great trouble. Consider this,
McCracken, if you will just be quiet about the whole thing, go back to your
family this evening, just take only what you can carry with you, and meet me at
the boat dock. I will get passage for you on one of those boats going to
Cincinnati, Ohio, which is free territory, and you can go there and reestablish
your life.” And that is what McCracken did. That is how McCracken, and his
family, including Jane, who was my grandmother, came to Cincinnati as
refugees. Jane was safely hidden with friends in the Underground Railway. In
fact, she stayed a while in the family of Levi Coffin, one of its most
distinguished directors. Slave runners did come over into Ohio from Kentucky,
and there was word that they were looking for Jane, though she was not a slave.
But what could she do? There was no law, in either Ohio or Kentucky, to
protect her. Fortunately, she was able to avoid capture, to grow up, to marry a
young coachman named Robert Austin, and to have four children, one of whom
was my father, George Austin.
These are the kinds of stories that were shared by most African-American
families with their children, teaching them the wisdom to make the sacrifices
which had to be made, to learn to protest as they passed through the
unpredictable experiences of their days, working for and believing in a better
future.
In the second period of civil rights, the protests and the faith grew stronger.
To bring progress, people sought justice through demonstrations, which often
brought upon them violence and death. Rosa Parks stands out in this period. We
can remember her quiet, simple protest, her refusal to give up her seat on a bus
because she was an African American, and how that led to a groundswell of
protest and the evolution of challenging leadership and effort for change, which
brought laws protecting minorities from injustice and discrimination. Even in
that period, there was the senseless martyrdom of the great leader Martin Luther
King, Jr., which led to upheaval in this nation. This period is filled with
countless stories of dramatic protest, of courage, of amazing sacrifice on the
part of both whites and blacks who gave up their careers, and even in some
cases their lives, for positive change.
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At this point, I am moved to reflect upon the wisdom and courage of ‘Abdu’l-
Bahá, the magnificent teacher of the Bahá’1 Faith who visited the United States
near the end of the pre-civil rights period. It seems to me that his visit should be
studied for its impact on the period and on the nation. ‘AbduT-Bahá was indeed
a role model for those who seek positive change. He took a firm stand. He
spoke openly and forthrightly before the opinion-making institutions of the
period: the churches, the universities, the community-improvement
organizations. He shunned segregation and discrimination, even though it would
have made things comfortable. He advocated human unity. He challenged
racism and prejudice before black and white audiences. He advocated women’s
rights. He urged human beings to understand the unity of God, to abandon
religious prejudice, and emphasized the necessity for the coming together of
peoples. He took the Bahá’1 principles to some of the most orthodox and
conservative organizations of this country, without fear, without compromise.
There is a most interesting story of how he shocked official, diplomatic, and
class-conscious Washington, DC. There was a most prestigious dinner party
given for ‘AbduT-Bahá by his hostess, who wanted him to impress the movers
and shakers of Washington’s diplomatic and political society. What did
‘AbduT-Bahá do on the day of that dinner? He invited Louis G. Gregory, a
young African-American lawyer, to come to see him near the time of the dinner.
He talked with Louis Gregory, and when Louis Gregory, realizing that it was
near the time of the dinner, sought to leave, ‘AbduT-Bahá prevented him from
leaving. When the time came for the guests to go into the dining room, ‘AbduT-
Bahá strode into the dining room, reorganized the table settings, creating a place
next to his place, the guest of honor, for Louis Gregory, that young African-
American lawyer, who was not at all well known or accepted among the
distinguished invited guests.
What an object lesson that was! Today, Bahà’is strive in many ways to
follow that pattern set by ‘AbduT-Bahá. They are demonstrating the courage to
uphold their standards, to speak out against the falsities of tradition and
custom, and to demonstrate what they believe. Although I was not a Bahá’1 at
that time and very young, after I became a BaháT I read that story and other
stories about ‘AbduT-Bahá. It did a lot for me. It made me see that there was
hope for humanity, and that, with effort and leadership, we can move out of
darkness, ignorance, and hostility.
Briefly, I will touch on the civil rights period, because by that time, the laws
permitted me to go to school. I had not gone to school until I was 8 or 9 (in the
South, there was no school for young children—there was a school for overage
children) when my parents sent me to Cincinnati to stay with my father’s
relatives. There, I entered an all-black elementary school and stayed at that
school until I graduated from the eighth grade. Then I went to Walnut Hills
Classical High School, where my father had pioneered as the first black student,
and took my seat with another little black girl in the history class on my first day.
F ai th , P r o t e s t , a n d P r o g r e s s               9

On the desk of each student was a copy of Meyers’ History, the official,
approved textbook for the public schools. Now, most of you do not even know
about Mr. Meyers, but Mr. Meyers, in his textbook, discussed the contributions
of the races of humankind, with pictures, of course. And he talked about the
gifts of the white race, the gifts of the red race, the gifts of the brown race.
When he came to the gifts of the black race, his words, and I quote, were: “The
black race has made no contribution to civilization. It seems that it must remain
forever a hewer of wood and a drawer of water for the more fortunate races.”
Can you imagine? Two little black girls, in a school full of white children, in a
classroom full of white children, and with the candor and the cruelty of the
young, the entire class looked at us, and there were, of course, a few snickers
and grins.
It was then that I remembered my great-grandmother. I felt as if the Klan
were standing there with the guns turned on me. With great resentment and
resolve, I stood up and said, “I was taught in a black school that Africans
worked iron before Europeans knew anything about it. 1 was taught that they
knew how to cast bronze in making statues and that they worked in gold and in
ivory so beautifully that the European nations came to their shores to buy their
carvings and statues. That’s what I was taught, in a black school.” There was an
electric silence. The teacher of that history class. Miss Purvis, a stalwart New
Englander, bless her soul, spoke out. She said, “She’s absolutely correct. This is
not a true statement.” She went on to outline some other contributions of
African Americans, and that saved the day for us. But, friends, you can imagine,
if there had been no protest, what ingrained prejudice and hostility would have
been implanted in the minds of those children and what humiliation and
degradation would have been stamped upon us?
The memory of that incident has made me always feel passionate about the
absence of knowledge which people have about other people who are different.
Even though they live with them and work with them, they do not know
anything about their history, their aspirations, and their culture. In these days,
when we have movements for programming African-American history and
emphasis upon it, I pray that the interest in diversity will broaden. And 1 also
pray that Bahà’is, wherever they are, will seek to know more about African
history, African-American history, American Indian history. Oriental history,
and to make the study of history a cause for understanding the things that unite
human beings—their survival from oppression, their efforts to overcome, their
aspirations, and their achievements. Pioneers we can be, as Bahà’is, in
demonstrating the values in our belief about the oneness of humankind, and in
being able to inform and give information which brings respect and dignity to
all these delightful colors that make up the human race.
Let me tell you another story, of my freshman year at the University of
Cincinnati, when as a member of its first integrated undergraduate class, I
entered that institution. There had not been any blacks before my class. There
10         THE J O U R N A L OF B A H À ’ Î S T U D I E S             8.2.1998

were, that year, four girls and four boys. The ground had been broken for us by
a black principal of one of the black schools. Dr. Jennie D. Porter, who sought
to get a PhD degree. The University of Cincinnati had informed her that it did
not think that any African American could earn a PhD degree. They were not
able to do this. She persisted and made them accept her, because it was a city
university, and she worked like a dog for her degree, earning it with distinction.
She was the groundbreaker, the pioneer, the protester, and we followed in her
footsteps.
During the first week of our enrolment, an official from the university
summoned us for a conference. When we arrived in her office, she took only
the girls. She said, “Now, young ladies, I hope you will be as inconspicuous as
possible on this campus. You belong to a subject race. We didn’t want to take
you, but we are a city university, and we had to take you. I hope you will go
out and give us no trouble at all.” We were young, sensitive, full of hope and
aspiration for a university education—that speech traumatized us. We
somehow got out of that office, and because in the communities from which
we came, we were taught to have faith, to protest, and to take concerted action
for progress, we called the boys. We sat down and discussed the situation, and
then all eight of us decided we were going out for everything in the university.
We almost took an oath in blood that we were all to finish that first year with
honors in something, and, we decided to disseminate some information on the
campus. So we took our nickels (because we did not have much more than that
in those days), bought some paper, and duplicated a newsletter, which we
called The New Era.
We did not burn down any buildings, we did not beat up anybody, but we
published articles, as many as we could get, from university professors at the
University of Cincinnati and at surrounding universities, about the importance
of abolishing prejudice and abandoning discrimination, and we invited students
from any university to send us creative writing and poetry. The magazine was a
sellout at two cents a copy. Somehow, we made a difference. We worked
harder, I am sure, than any other freshman students in that university. By the
end of the year, each one of us did take an honor, and at the beginning of the
next year, that same official who had called us in and insulted us, apologized for
her remarks. I give her credit for it. She said she would welcome the incoming
class of black students.
The current period in which we are all working has brought into focus human
rights, within which there is focus not only upon minorities but also upon
women’s rights, and abandoning prejudice and bigotry. That is a wonderful
step. I remember at this point, how I became a Bahà’i. As a young, angry,
incensed, and hostile university student, I went to my father and said, “I’m
going to become an agnostic or an atheist: I just don’t believe anymore in these
religions that are all separate, all fighting with each other, all enforcing
prejudice against some group, and yet they say, ‘God is the father of all
Fa ith , P r o t e s t , a n d P r o g r e s s

humankind’.” My father heard me out and then said, “Well, before you do it,
why don't you go and talk to these Cincinnati people who are talking about the
Bahà’i Faith?” He was not a Bahà’i, but he said, “They have some very
interesting views, and maybe that will interest you.” So I went and talked to the
Bahà’is. I took their literature around for two years to find things to argue
about, and in the process, I began to believe. Such is the power of the Word. My
confirming experiences were the activities and the attitudes of so many
wonderful Bahà’is who helped me overcome my bitterness. There was Mr.
Louis G. Gregory, who taught classes about the Bahà’i Faith with culture, with
gentility and forcefulness that impressed everybody. There was Dorothy Baker
in Lima, Ohio, which had an atmosphere that was like a setting for the Ku Klux
Klan, it was so rigid, and so mean. But Dorothy Baker opened her home for
Bahà’i Firesides, to which came black and white inquirers from surrounding
areas, who listened and became attracted to the teachings. So much was her
home a center, that the ministry in her town attacked her, but she used it as an
opportunity to teach the Bahà’i Faith, for she went to the radio station and asked
if she could tell them what the Bahà’f Faith was about.
All of these people were confirming experiences for me—anxious, and
sensitive, and tense as I was because of my bitter experiences. There are so
many other people I could name, and perhaps someday I will write their stories
so that they can inspire Bahà’is. I have shortened this talk, lest it become like the
mercy of God, in that it endures forever and passes all understanding. Suffice it
to say that the confirming power of the BaháT Faith lies in the teachings
themselves and the way we can encourage people to read, discuss, and
understand them, and also the impact which we as individual Bàhà’fs can make
upon people when our attitudes and our actions are influenced by the principles
of the Bahà’i Faith. I believe that we must think of the Bahà’i Faith as
constituting a unique world community. We are operating in every theater of
this world where there is tension and violence and hatred. We are a part of the
whole. We are making a serious effort to pry human beings away from their
alienating traditions, their comfortable ignorance, and their prejudice. But, we
must try harder. We must try harder. Bahà’is should understand that there are
many people working for a better world today, but Bahà’is have something
special, which will reinforce us in the battles going on to change hearts, to
transform lives, and to provide more than a token representation of our ability to
take in minorities.
There are many amusing attitudes in the world today, and I think I ought to
tell you about the black church to which, to its consternation, was assigned a
white minister. The church congregation was in a tizzy about it. Some of the
members would not attend church because they did not think it was time yet for
that. (Where have you heard that before?) So we as Bahà’is are working not
only on the outside world but also on ourselves, because we, too, have a lot of
baggage that needs to be cast overboard. But if we go about it with faith, with
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intelligent protest, standing up and demonstrating what the right attitude and
motivation is for human progress, we can cause progress. After all, the battle
we face is essentially a spiritual battle to transform the souls and spirits of
human beings, to empower them to express love and justice, and to develop a
unity of conscience.
This makes me remember that marvelous letter of ‘AbduT-Babá to the
Committee for Durable Peace, at the Hague, where he spoke about ending war
and the causes of war. He said the essential for universal peace is “unity of
conscience” (Selections 297) Why? Because unity of conscience makes us
willing to be just, to “give others their due.” 1 hope we will continue to work to
overcome all the inward and outward obstacles to developing that unity of
conscience in ourselves and in all we can touch.
The time for transformation is now. It cannot be put off, because hate and
injustice are alive and well and attempting to thrive. Ethnic conflicts are
growing, isolation and insularity are growing, people are choosing self­
destructive ways to deal with the pressures, the pain, and the turmoil all around
them. The BaháTs must have a faith that can demonstrate the great factors in
Bahá’1 history: courage and persistence, the ability to survive persecution, to go
into inhospitable areas, to stay there, and to raise up communities that can
withstand the pressures of ignorance, hostility, and prejudice. There is a Bahá’1
prayer that can offer us guidance, strength, and determination. It is a prayer
which talks about protest. It talks about faith, and it talks about progress:
O my God, aid Thou Thy servant to raise up the Word, and to refute what is vain
and false, to establish the truth, to spread the sacred verses abroad, reveal the
splendours, and make the morning’s light to dawn in the hearts o f the righteous.
Thou art verily the Generous, the Forgiving. (‘Abdu’l-Bahà, Selections 250)

Works Cited

‘AbduT-Bahá. Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahà. Trans. Marzieh
Gail et al. Comp. Research Dept, of the Universal House of Justice. Haifa:
BaháT World Centre, 1978.
Bahâ’i Prayers: A Selection of Prayers Revealed by Bahd’u ’lldh, the Báb, and
‘Abdu’l-Bahd. 4th ed. Wilmette, 111.: BaháT Publishing Trust, 1991.
-- Faith, Protest, and Progress (Used by permission of the curator)