It is good for Americans to recall that we have not always lived up to the promise of this great land. There is darkness in our past that many are tempted to forget. “Why dredge up that old stuff?” they are wont to ask. The answer is that shedding light on it reminds us not only of how far we have come but also of how badly we do not want to return to the dark, ugliness of the past.

In front of about 200 onlookers, a group of residents of Monroe, Georgia recently provided a bit of that light by re-enacting the 1946 Moore’s Ford Lynching.

In 1946, Dorothy Malcolm, who was seven months pregnant, her brother George Dorsey, a decorated veteran, his wife Mae Murray and their white landlord Jay Loy Harrison bailed Dorothy’s husband Roger out of jail. Two weeks earlier, Roger had been arrested for knifing a white man he suspected of having an affair with his wife. During the ride home, Harrison (later discovered to have been a member of the Klan) took a circuitous route that ended beneath the Moore’s Ford Bridge. There a mob of 15-20 armed and angry white men met them. The four were forced from the car, beaten, hog tied, and their bodies riddled with bullets.

The murders shocked the nation. Hundreds of FBI and GBI agents descended upon Walton County. They were joined by dozens of reporters and the NAACP… all of whom were met with silence. Fifty-five men were listed as suspects but charges were never filed against anyone. For almost 60 years, the victims have lain beneath unmarked graves waiting for justice.

The murders have hung like a pall over the community. Books have been written about the murders and the story has been told on Oprah. But sometimes it is not enough to simply hear the stories from the past. They are only given their true power when they are given the life and dimension that theatre affords. And whatever else the reenactment was, it was also theatre. It was the expression through ritual of the outrage and pain that has transcended generations.

Lynching in general was infused with an element of theatre or perhaps it is more proper to say it was performative. According to the “Readers Companion to American History,” “White families brought small children to watch, newspapers sometimes carried advance notices, railroad agents sold excursion tickets to announced lynching sites, and mobs cut off black victims' fingers, toes, ears, or genitalia as souvenirs.” The bodies were left on display, “strange fruit” from southern trees as Billie Holiday sang. They were ritualized displays of hate.

The power of theatre is in its ability to tell us something about our souls – about our shared humanity or lack thereof.

Between 1882 and 1968, there were more than 3,400 reported lynchings of black men and women, most unsolved or unprosecuted. It is a ghastly and tragic part of our nation’s history and one that Americans should never forget.

Encouraged by the recent prosecutions of racists responsible for the murders of Goodman, Chaney and Schwerner and the bombing of the 14th Street Baptist Church, the citizens of Monroe are hoping justice will at long last find its way to Walton County. The odds are long. Many of the suspects are dead and for those still alive, silence remains the command. All we have left is theatre to give voice to the victims and remind us of the past. This re-enactment is perhaps a ritualized display of healing -- a community crying out for justice, for a redeeming of the humanity that was lost on that fateful night so many years ago.