by Ruth Naomi Floyd
"Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us…"
From Lift Every Voice and Sing
Lyrics by James Weldon Johnson
and Music composed by John Rosamond Johnson
My paternal great-grandmother, Hattie, lived to be 109 years old. Her husband, Thomas, my great-grandfather, lived to the age of 99. Thomas and Hattie were married for over 75 years. When we were children, my two sisters and I would spend one week at my great-grandparents’ home during the summer. Hattie kept a meticulously clean house and an incredible garden. She grew watermelon, collard greens, turnip greens, fruits, and herbs. She taught me to churn butter and ice cream, cook, “keep” house, and beautifully dress a table. One afternoon, I was running the sweeper in the living room. Hattie was in the kitchen, mopping the floor. As I was singing, I experimented with the low end of my voice, and suddenly, I heard the mop hit the floor. Hattie ran upstairs; it was the fastest I ever saw her run. Her daughter, my great Aunt Ella, who was in her eighties, went upstairs to check on Hattie. When Ella came downstairs, I asked her if Hattie was okay. Ella told me that Hattie felt something in my voice that reminded her of her mother’s singing voice. Hattie’s mother was an enslaved African in America.
The echo of Hattie’s mother’s voice dwelled within my voice. It saddened me that this echo startled Hattie and made her lament. I could never know how she felt. When Hattie came downstairs, she smiled at me and gave me a slice of one of her amazing cakes. We sat silently at the kitchen table as I ate my cake. My sisters were outside playing, so it was a special moment for us. I would like to believe that Hattie’s lament turned to joy. The soul of her mother’s singing voice continues to sound in her great-granddaughter’s voice. This gift of echoed sound is powerful, and I am deeply grateful. The song Hattie heard me sing while running the sweeper was the great African American Spiritual Wade in the Water.
Refrain
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
God's gonna trouble the water.
See that man all dressed in white,
God’s gonna trouble the water
The leader looks like the Israelite
God’s gonna trouble the water.
See that band all dressed in red,
God's gonna trouble the water
Looks like the band that Moses led
God's gonna trouble the water.
If you don’t believe I’ve been redeemed,
God's gonna trouble the water
Just follow me down to Jordan’s stream
God's gonna trouble the water.
No more shall they in bondage toil,
God's gonna trouble the water
Let them come out with Egypt's spoil
God's gonna trouble the water.
I don’t know if Hattie’s mother sang Wade in the Water, but we sang it at Hattie’s church during Sunday services. Wade in the Water is among the best-known and beloved African American Spirituals. The lyrics to Wade in the Water first appeared in the 1901 New Jubilee Songs as sung by the Fisk Jubilee Singers. It was co-published by Frederick J. Work and his brother, John Wesley Jr., an educator at the historically black college Fisk University in Nashville, Tennessee.
African American Spirituals contain expressions for the fight for freedom, biblical stories and imagery, and messages about the daily life of enslaved Africans in America. The biblical themes in many African American Spirituals are evident. These themes inspired compositions like Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel, Go Down Moses, Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho, Steal Away, Every Time I Feel the Spirit, Go Tell it on the Mountain, Crucifixion, and many more.
Like many African American Spirituals, Wade in the Water contains coded messages that were used as alerts and warnings to guide and assist the enslaved fugitives to freedom. The lyrics of the songs remain the same, but the message is sometimes determined by the meter of the music. When the enslaved Africans sang the meter mournfully slow, it represented the journey from life to death, from earth to heaven. When they sang the song up-tempo, it was a signal song for the escaping enslaved Africans to get in the water to avoid the slave catchers by losing the scent of the bloodhounds. Enslaved Africans were hunted across the country, and these alert songs helped them avoid recapture and reach freedom. Wade in the Water is one of the African American Spirituals from the Underground Railroad, a network of secret routes and safe houses, such as homes, barns, churches, and businesses. These places helped enslaved Africans escape the American South and reach free states and Canada.
To create is to protest all that is wrong in the world. The enslaved Africans composed and sang in resistance to the sin of American slavery. For the most part, enslaved people were not allowed to meet with two other enslaved people without white supervision, yet somehow, Black life was able to remain a secret to white America. The enslaved Africans would meet in the invisible church. The clandestine church was hidden in the bush harbors, the woods, and other secret places. There were no set dates, times, or appointments. Songs created by the enslaved Africans convened the invisible church. Although the invisible church was illegal, worship services provided much-needed relief from the white gaze. They also offered a place to engage and practice a theology rooted in Imago Dei, the truth that all humans were created in God's image.
In certain places in the American South, the African drum was considered a dangerous communication tool, so the enslaved Africans bravely played rhythmic patterns on their bodies and shared them with their voices to communicate messages. They could not openly say the things they desired and needed to communicate, but they certainly could sing them.
Hattie sang African American Spirituals, her mother sang them, her children sang them, her grandchildren sang them, and her great-grandchildren and their children's children continue to sing them. This shared musical tradition connects generations, reminding us of our history, faith, strength, beauty, and resilience. The singing of the enslaved Africans rang out in resistance to the carnage, damage, sorrow, oppression, and horror of American slavery.
There was beauty amid the wreckage. There was beauty in Hattie's mother's voice, a voice that sang its way to freedom. This beauty echoes in my own voice and even in my daughter’s voice. There are gifts of beauty that rise from the ashes that surround this path we call life. We, too, can lift our voices in songs of lament, protest, resistance, hope, love, rage, joy, and, most certainly, worship. And, when it is time for us to wade in the water to the other side, we can sing our way to our promised and heavenly home.
Ruth Naomi Floyd is a vocalist, composer, flutist, educator, independent historical researcher, photographer, and justice worker.
Photograph: “Echo” © Ruth Naomi Floyd Images
To hear Ruth explore more of the history of African American Spirituals, watch her lecture during Housemoot, the web conference offering over 15 hours of new lectures, recipes, and artistic offerings that will launch the same weekend as Hutchmoot (October 10-13, 2024) and continue through December 1, 2024.