Free Between Slavery and Freedom by Julie Winch Page B

by the late 1780s it was clear that the institution of slavery was dying in Massachusetts.
    New Hampshire took as long and as twisted a path to abolition as did Massachusetts, and it, too, left the question of black rights vague and ill-defined. If the Granite State did not have as many slaves as Massachusetts, it still had a substantial number, and they were assertive and articulate. In 1779, slaves in and around Portsmouth seized the initiative, possibly with help from members of the admittedly small free community of color. They approached the legislature and challenged lawmakers to live up to the ideals of independence and rights for all. They wanted to be treated like other inhabitants and have “an Opportunity of evincing to the World our Love of Freedom by . . . opposing the Efforts of Tyranny and Oppression over the Country in which we ourselves have been so long injuriously enslaved.” If New Hampshire abolished slavery—a practice that flew in the face of “Justice and Humanity”—they pledged that every black man would be happy to fight alongside his white brothers against the forces of the King of England. 6 In 1783, the state adopted a constitution that said that “all men [were] born equal and independent,” and had certain “natural rights,” which included “enjoying . . . life and liberty.” 7 That did not amount to immediate emancipation, but the enslaved claimed their freedom from owners who were not sure they could hold on to them. Within a decade slavery had faded away. What did not fade so completely were old patterns of thought on the part of white people in New Hampshire. Black people determined to enjoy the same rights as their white neighbors now that they were free faced many challenges.
    Emancipation was also a long time coming in Rhode Island, the smallest state in the Union. Despite pressure from the slaves themselves, from the small but vocal free community of color, which included proud veterans of the Rhode Island Black Regiment, and from white sympathizers, slavery had powerful supporters. In 1784, though, the state legislature finally passed an abolition bill. Like the Pennsylvania law, the Rhode Island law only gradually phased out slavery. Children born to enslaved women after March 1, 1784 would eventually be free—females at eighteen and males at twenty-one. Until then they had to serve whoever owned their mothers. Once a black Rhode Islander ceased to be a slave, that did not mean he or she could settle down and live as white people did. Rhode Island had long since adopted the same tactic as Massachusetts when it came to dealing with anyone who seemed likely to become a public charge. The authorities “warned out” or expelled that individual, and if necessary their entire family. Liberated into a harsh world with few job opportunities and even fewer resources, AfricanAmericans often gravitated to the lower rungs of society, and that made them subject to the full weight of the law. They could be driven out of the township in which they lived, or forced over the state line into an equally unfriendly setting in Massachusetts or Connecticut.
    Despite the large number of slaves in Connecticut, the antislavery forces eventually prevailed there. Children born to enslaved women after March 1, 1784—the same date as in Rhode Island—would become free when they reached adulthood. Connecticut’s abolition law did nothing for those born before its passage. Theoretically, they would remain enslaved for the rest of their lives. As had happened in other states, though, some slaveholders released their slaves, while hundreds of bondspeople simply absconded. Judging by newspaper advertisements for runaways, Connecticut’s slaves were both resourceful and determined. If the law would not grant them their freedom, they would take it.
    Across the North in the 1770s and 1780s black people existed in freedom, in slavery, and in an