This Land is Supposed to be Your Land — the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921

by Donna Butts, executive director of Generations United

A mural of Woody Guthrie on the outside of the arts center named in his honor in Tulsa proclaims, “This Land is Your Land.” A few blocks away is the beautiful, peaceful John Hope Franklin Reconciliation Park designed to educate visitors about the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921, considered the worst incident of racial violence in American history.

As many people celebrate Juneteenth and even more learn about it for the first time, our country is grappling with two crises — the novel coronavirus epidemic, which is disproportionally hitting people of color, and deeply imbedded racial inequities.

As people of all ages have marched and protested in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the senseless deaths that came before and after, what’s so apparent is how little we know about our shared history.

So few people outside of Tulsa know about what happened to Greenwood — a multiracial community with newspapers, hotels, theaters, churches, restaurants and grocery stores. It was also known as “America’s Black Wall Street.”

I didn’t know those things. The massacre that took place there wasn’t taught in my history classes.

No, it took a trip to Tulsa two years ago while doing intergenerational shared site visits with my good colleague, Shannon Jarrott, to be introduced to the full story of what happened to Greenwood.

According to plaques lining the Healing Walkway leading to the Tower of Reconciliation — the park’s central sculpture — nearly 1,300 homes and businesses, covering 30-square blocks were burnt to the ground while police and the National Guard did nothing to stop the White rioters but instead arrested the Black residents.

There’s never been an accurate count of the people who died during the assault. Originally, 36 deaths were recorded but over the years the number grew to upwards of 300. It was only last year experts announced they believed they found the mass grave and planned to investigate.

“We mourned the dead, helped each other, and got back to work” the plaques continue. “Now, we must all climb together.”

Older adults are the carriers of culture, the guardians of future generations. Intergenerational practices by their very nature are inclusive, accepting of differences and enriched by diversity.

But this isn’t enough.

While programs that connect across generations intentionally engage young and old, we must also ensure we are connecting across the dual demographic change of race and age. This diversity is our country’s greatest strength.

At Generations United, our race equity initiative with grandfamilies has humbled and enriched us all. While we continue to build that body of work, we intend to now focus on ensuring our other areas of intergenerational focus are as intentionally strengthened.

This can’t be a moment in time, it must continue as a movement.

Racism shreds our social fabric. We can only reweave that fabric if we individually and collectively take a stand and not wait for others to control our destiny. Let’s begin now, stronger together, united in purpose.

Tulsa’s history reminds us: “When freedom finally came, it was not a gift. We freed ourselves.”