![]() For me, as a kid, America was more cultural and commercial than political or historical: baseball and Mark Twain, musicals and McDonald’s. Growing up, I attended Belgium’s écoles communales. ![]() Shining a light on the truth, followed by some sort of atonement, seemed the right thing to do, especially at a time of rising and relegitimized white supremacy in the United States. My first thought was that I should research our family history more-and then write about it. Although I grew up in Brussels, the child of American musicians who did not inherit great wealth, my family is white and middle class, with branches rooted among the pre-revolutionary English immigrants who accepted slave-holding as a way of life. A few years ago, Cheryl Benedict, an education administrator and historian from Virginia and my first cousin, discovered on that our great-great-great-grandfather, a Texas farmer named Augustus Foscue, had owned 41 slaves.
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