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A review by libkatem
Tales from the Haunted South: Dark Tourism and Memories of Slavery from the Civil War Era by Tiya Miles
5.0
I have a lot of thoughts about this book, and about southern horror tourism being a convenient (and safe) way for white people to encounter histories of enslavement.
This book is full of many, many excellent words. These are a few of my favorites:
"The South, therefore, functions like a storehouse for the nation’s historical guilt, a sociocultural archive accessed through stories of haunting. This explains why southern ghosts of slavery remain with us even now, calling us to confront them" (32).
"Tourists at The Myrtles can therefore flirt with the danger of racial and sexual taboos while never having to really think about human subjection, the corruption of power, and their own voyeuristic complicity in the reproduction of plantation culture scripts" (97).
"It would be disingenuous of me not to acknowledge that ghost-tour companies are doing the work of making black history visible in some of this country’s oldest places. In contrast to a growing number of haunted tours that actively incorporate African American stories, many plantation heritage tours continue to marginalize black personalities and historical experiences. During my time in Savannah, I saw evidence of urban historian Ella Howard’s observation that “the subset of paranormal tours pay much more attention to slavery than others.” In Charleston, the dearth of black history on offer by established companies was so great that tour guide Geordie Buxton suggested that I, an Ohioan with no special knowledge of Charleston history, should create my own black history tour in the city. Meanwhile, Buxton was interweaving snippets of black folklore and history into his haunted plantations tour. Ghost tours clearly represent a kind of cultural inclusion, but I have to press the question: At what cost? Much of the black history material that I encountered during my ghost-touring journey appeared to me as exoticized, romanticized, or decontextualized. And members of black communities did not seem to control the narratives of these tours or to benefit directly from the commercial success of local ghost-tour outfits.
"I came away from my travels with an overwhelming feeling that ghost tourism at historic sites of slavery appropriates African American history in a way that outweighs the value of inclusion. Whether or not they are aware of it or want to be doing it, tourism professionals use black cultural knowledge (stories, beliefs, practices, and histories) to infuse southern ghost tours with a superficial sense of soul. The recuperated black slave in the form of a ghost is presented in caricature on these tours, positioned outside black cultural contexts, and stripped of the historical realities of American slavery. Experiences of black slaves and elements of black culture are thus diminished in this industry—borrowed, boiled down to an exotic essence, and sold for a price" (123).
"I also came away with an alarming sense that the representation of slaves as ghosts reproduces intersectional racial and gender norms from the antebellum era, often without context, caution, or critique" (124).
But in her conclusion, Miles also points to the histories of African American ghost stories, gathered in the 1930s in WPA interviews. This will stick with me:
"”In Emmaline Heard’s astute story, slavery is a monstrous, industrial machine that consumed African American lives and continues to haunt the southern landscape even after emancipation.
"Stories told by African Americans who experienced slavery indicate their belief that ghosts were dangerously real and not to be dallied with" (127)." Miles then connects this to Toni Morrison's Beloved, which of course has terrifying ghosts of its own. If only, Miles seems to argue, we let Black people tell these ghost stories how they want to tell them. The ghosts would be even more terrifying.
Please read this book.
This book is full of many, many excellent words. These are a few of my favorites:
"The South, therefore, functions like a storehouse for the nation’s historical guilt, a sociocultural archive accessed through stories of haunting. This explains why southern ghosts of slavery remain with us even now, calling us to confront them" (32).
"Tourists at The Myrtles can therefore flirt with the danger of racial and sexual taboos while never having to really think about human subjection, the corruption of power, and their own voyeuristic complicity in the reproduction of plantation culture scripts" (97).
"It would be disingenuous of me not to acknowledge that ghost-tour companies are doing the work of making black history visible in some of this country’s oldest places. In contrast to a growing number of haunted tours that actively incorporate African American stories, many plantation heritage tours continue to marginalize black personalities and historical experiences. During my time in Savannah, I saw evidence of urban historian Ella Howard’s observation that “the subset of paranormal tours pay much more attention to slavery than others.” In Charleston, the dearth of black history on offer by established companies was so great that tour guide Geordie Buxton suggested that I, an Ohioan with no special knowledge of Charleston history, should create my own black history tour in the city. Meanwhile, Buxton was interweaving snippets of black folklore and history into his haunted plantations tour. Ghost tours clearly represent a kind of cultural inclusion, but I have to press the question: At what cost? Much of the black history material that I encountered during my ghost-touring journey appeared to me as exoticized, romanticized, or decontextualized. And members of black communities did not seem to control the narratives of these tours or to benefit directly from the commercial success of local ghost-tour outfits.
"I came away from my travels with an overwhelming feeling that ghost tourism at historic sites of slavery appropriates African American history in a way that outweighs the value of inclusion. Whether or not they are aware of it or want to be doing it, tourism professionals use black cultural knowledge (stories, beliefs, practices, and histories) to infuse southern ghost tours with a superficial sense of soul. The recuperated black slave in the form of a ghost is presented in caricature on these tours, positioned outside black cultural contexts, and stripped of the historical realities of American slavery. Experiences of black slaves and elements of black culture are thus diminished in this industry—borrowed, boiled down to an exotic essence, and sold for a price" (123).
"I also came away with an alarming sense that the representation of slaves as ghosts reproduces intersectional racial and gender norms from the antebellum era, often without context, caution, or critique" (124).
But in her conclusion, Miles also points to the histories of African American ghost stories, gathered in the 1930s in WPA interviews. This will stick with me:
"”In Emmaline Heard’s astute story, slavery is a monstrous, industrial machine that consumed African American lives and continues to haunt the southern landscape even after emancipation.
"Stories told by African Americans who experienced slavery indicate their belief that ghosts were dangerously real and not to be dallied with" (127)." Miles then connects this to Toni Morrison's Beloved, which of course has terrifying ghosts of its own. If only, Miles seems to argue, we let Black people tell these ghost stories how they want to tell them. The ghosts would be even more terrifying.
Please read this book.