My People WILL Read: Black Women Educators Who Defied Illiteracy Laws

Let's wrap up our series during Black History Month with this reflection on The Power of Black Literacy: Building Community, Culture, and Freedom.

It should be a surprise to no one that literacy, and lack to it, has played an intrinsic role in Black history and achievement in this nation's history. You are probably aware that enslaved Africans were forbidden to read under penalty of death, and ever since then, literacy itself has remained an act of resistance. I am just wrapping up my participation as a volunteer, participant, and convener for the San Miguel Writer's Conference and Literary Festival, and was so re-ignited by the power of the written (sometimes spoken) word, but also how reading helps us see, make sense of, find our place in, and define our legacy in this turbulent world. You, who are reading this newsletter, can just ask yourself: how impoverished would you life be without the pleasure and power of the written world?

Beyond pleasure, reading unlocks the door to agency and power in even the smallest of ways. Without the ability to read, it was harder to know when you were being exploited or excluded. And this unfair reality was, in the history of the United States (alas) by design.

The anti-literacy laws that were common norms between 1740 and 1834 in the south were passed so that the human chattel would not have means or inspiration to rise up against their dire state. This is the same reason why drums were outlawed. After the 1739 Stono Rebellion in South Carolina—where enslaved Africans used drums as a call to arms—colonial governments passed laws treating drums as weapons and prohibiting their use.

(Despite the banning of their talking drum, African ancestors in the Americas turned to other forms of music. Body percussion like pattin’ Juba/hambone, ring shouting, and foot-stomping (leading to tap dancing when merged with Irish step-dancers in New York City's 19th century slums) turned the body itself into the instrument.

Additionally, this restricting birthed the development of stringed and small percussion instruments such as the banjo (adapted from West and Central African plucked lutes) and tambourines, which allowed African rhythmic sensibilities to survive in plantation music, worship, and later popular genres. Over time, African American musicians also embedded those rhythms into brass and marching‑band percussion, so that parade bands, church ensembles, and eventually jazz, blues, and HBCU marching bands became new homes for once‑forbidden drum traditions.)

The South Carolina Negro Act of 1740 (what a name!) banned “drums, horns, or other loud instruments” that could summon people together. Legislating alienation and subjugation, Southern states punished anyone who taught slaves to write with a fine of 100 pounds and six months in prison. Alabama's 1833 slave code fined violators up to $500. Mississippi required white people to serve up to a year in prison as "penalty for teaching a slave to read."

Despite these violent prohibitions, Black communities—and especially Black women—refused to remain illiterate. They created underground schools. They taught each other by candlelight. They memorized forbidden texts and passed them along orally, in keeping with ancestral traditions with teachers and griots in their African homelands. Some dictated their memoirs, memorably Old Elizabeth, who I herald in my book, and who dictated her Memoir of Old Elizabeth, A Coloured Woman, considered the first antebellum narrative by a formerly enslaved woman, and published in in 1863, when she was 97 years old.

Some women, like little-heralded antebellum educator Mary Peake, created outdoor classrooms under oak trees (Emancipation Oak) that turned into HBCUs. Women like this show us that literacy is ultimately about understanding systems of power, documenting injustice, and making a better future. Nine decades later, at the crest of the Civil Rights movement, leaders like Septima Poinsette Clark launched Citizenship schools (1957, Johns Island, South Carolina) that spread across the South, teaching thousands of Black adults to read, write, and pass voter registration tests. For her valor, as you may now know, she was deemed “Mother of the Movement.”

Anti-Literacy Laws and Conventions Targeted Beyond Black People

This DO NOT READ/DO NOT LEARN/REMAIN POWERLESS dictate reached other non-white groups throughout this nation's history. Chinese and other Asian immigrants faced racialized immigration literacy tests and school exclusion rather than anti‑reading laws: the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 barred most Chinese laborers, and the Immigration Act of 1917 (the “Literacy Act”) imposed reading tests while creating what was called an "Asiatic barred zone") ,” which effectively restricted entry into the country. (Familiar?) At the local level, Chinese American children like Mamie Tape in San Francisco (1880s) were denied access to white public schools and pushed into segregated or mission schools.

Mexican American and broader Latinx communities, especially from the late 1800s through mid‑1900s, encountered segregated “Mexican schools,” tracking into low‑level or vocational classes, and punishment for Spanish use rather than laws forbidding literacy itself; schooling was used to “Americanize” and keep them in subordinate positions.

I'll move on to the story of Sylvia Mendez, who is in my book as well. In 1944, in Orange County, California, her Mexican‑Puerto Rican parents tried to enroll her in the white (and extremely better-resourced) “17th Street School” in Westminster. The school accepted her lighter‑skinned cousins who had a French‑sounding last name, but sent Sylvia and her brothers to a separate, inferior “Mexican school,” which sparked the family’s realization that the issue was race and perceived whiteness, not language or citizenship. (Understand how such circumstances perpetuate colorism in some Latino and other Brown communities even to today, and understand why many Latino Americans were unable to sing along with Bad Bunny during the recent Super Bowl Halftime game... speaking Spanish was frowned upon by many first-generation families seeking to integrate into the "American Dream.")

Back to the Mendezes. In response to this denial of rights, Sylvia's parents Gonzalo and Felicitas Mendez joined with four other Mexican American families to file Mendez et al. v. Westminster School District, challenging segregation in four Orange County districts. In 1946, a federal district court ruled that segregating Mexican American students violated the Fourteenth Amendment, and in 1947 the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the decision, making Mendez v. Westminster a key precursor to Brown v. Board of Education (1954).

For Indigenous people, the opposite was the case, but it was equally horrendous. Native peoples were not generally barred by statute from learning to read, but U.S. and Canadian authorities used boarding schools and mission schools (especially late 1800s–1900s) to suppress Indigenous languages and cultures, replacing them with English‑language, assimilationist curricula. For Native peoples, forcefully stripped of their language and customs, made to cut their hair and ditch their traditional attire, discrimination didn't target literacy itself, but rather what and how they could read and express themselves.

Those familiar with my book remember the story of Zitkála-Šá (Gertrude Simmons Bonnin), just one of many Indigenous children snatched from their communities and cultures. As a Dakota (Yankton Sioux) girl, she was sent to a Quaker/mission boarding school in 1884, where her hair was cut, her language was punished, and she was forced into English‑only, assimilationist schooling. To rebel against this upbringing, she would later become an accomplished writer, violinist, and political advocate, using English literacy and print culture to expose the brutality of boarding schools and to defend Indigenous sovereignty in the early 1900s.

But, as this is Black History Month, let's cast a spotlight on three Black women educators who defied laws, expectations, and limitations to ensure that their people would read, would write, would know, and would rise. Think about them and all the women we've included in this introduction as you consider how you will continue to advocate for literacy: not just the pleasures of reading but the rights to awareness, deep thinking, and liberation that reading can provide us all.

What Mary Jane Patterson, Della Irving Hayden, and Anna Julia Cooper can Teach Us About The Transformative Power of Literacy

Mary Jane Patterson: The First Black Woman to Earn a College Degree

Mary Jane Patterson was the first Black woman in the United States to earn a bachelor's degree when she graduated from Oberlin College in 1862. Rather than taking the two-year "ladies' course," she insisted on the rigorous four-year "gentleman's course" of classical studies, graduating with high honors in Latin, Greek, and mathematics.

After her academic studies were over, Patterson devoted her life to education, teaching in Philadelphia, then moving to Washington, D.C., where she became the first Black principal of the Preparatory High School for Colored Youth (later renamed Paul Laurence Dunbar High School) in 1871. The was the first public high school for Black students in the United States, and offered rigorous, college‑preparatory education at a time when most African Americans were denied secondary schooling altogether.

Under her leadership, the school became one of the premier educational institutions for Black students in America, sending graduates to the nation's top universities. In addition seeding a legacy of accomplished scholars, Mary Jane helped expand enrollment, instituted formal commencements, and added a teacher‑training department that helped professionalize Black education in the capital.

Reflection: How does knowledge build legacy?

Della Irving Hayden: Building Schools from Broken Soil

Born enslaved in North Carolina, Della Irving Hayden was reunited with her mother after emancipation and pursued education with fierce determination. She graduated from Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute in 1877, where she delivered a commencement address on "Our Work as Women" that won a cash prize from First Lady Lucy Webb Hayes.

Hayden began teaching in rural Virginia in 1875 and served as principal of a school in Franklin for nine years. She later became "lady principal" at Hampton Institute and at the State Normal School at Petersburg for thirteen years. But her greatest achievement came in 1904 when she founded the Franklin Normal and Industrial Institute, a boarding school for Black girls (later accepting male day students).

"I have been trying to teach my people to help themselves. It has been my heart's desire to help elevate my race," she wrote. By 1916, Franklin had multiple buildings, farmland, and boarding facilities for dozens of women students—all funded primarily through donations she solicited herself.

Hayden built an educational institution from nothing in post-Reconstruction Virginia, transforming her vision of Black girls' education into a physical reality that would serve her community for generations.

Reflection: What does it mean to build a future from broken soil?

Anna Julia Cooper: "When and Where I Enter"

Born enslaved, Anna Julia Cooper pursued higher education at Oberlin College, earning her Bachelor of Arts in 1884 and a master's degree in 1887. Oberlin College, as you may know, was an extremely important institution in the history of Black America. It adopted an official policy in 1835 to admit students “irrespective of color,” and became a 19th‑century powerhouse of Black higher education. By 1900, roughly one‑third of all Black college graduates in the United States had studied there.

In 1925, at age 67, she became the fourth Black woman in the United States to earn a PhD, completing her doctorate at the University of Paris, Sorbonne. (Where I completed my Masters' Degree, just as a sweet side note!)

Cooper believed education was liberation, and she devoted her life to proving it. Her 1892 book, A Voice from the South by a Black Woman of the South, is considered one of the most forceful statements of Black feminist thought from the nineteenth century. In it, she argued that educated Black women were essential to uplifting the entire race, and that Black women had a unique perspective that could address both the "race problem" and the "woman question."

Cooper taught at M Street High School in Washington, D.C., and advocated fiercely for higher education opportunities for Black students. She understood that education was never just about individual advancement—it was about collective liberation. Yes, this is the same school where Mary Jane Patterson practiced her career. Patterson was still on the faculty when the young Anna Julia Cooper joined in 1887, stepping into a department and culture her "elder sister" had already helped build and lead.

Reflection: What do you know that deserves to be taught?

Reflection and Action: Journal Prompts for Everyone

Thinking about Mary Jane Patterson, how does education open doors for future generations? Write about someone whose educational achievements inspired you.

In honor of Della Irving Hayden, ask yourself: How do you use your skills to uplift others? Describe a time you helped someone grow.

If you reflect on the legacy of Anna Julia Cooper, consider this: what knowledge do you hold that deserves to be published?

HerStory / OurStory: Journal Prompts for Women of Color

Act like Mary Jane Patterson: How have you passed along the lessons that others tried to block? Mentor or encourage a young person pursuing higher education.

Pay homage to Della Irving Hayden: What did the women in your lineage build despite the odds? Volunteer to teach or mentor in your community.

Consider the legacy of Anna Julia Cooper and ask yourself: What wisdom have you been carrying that needs to be shared? Consider documenting your knowledge—write it, teach it, pass it on.

Activated Allies: Prompts and Actions for White Friends

In honor of Mary Jane Patterson, Consider funding Black girls' education. Share early academic firsts in your community. Support scholarships or mentorship programs for BIPOC students.

Uplifting the memory of Della Irving Hayden: Support Black-led educational initiatives in underfunded communities.

Paying homage to Anna Julia Cooper: Study early Black women thinkers. Share Cooper's work in feminist spaces. Support Black women's scholarship and intellectual work.

More on Their Lives

Mary Jane Patterson (1840–1894): Collegiate Trailblazer

When Mary Jane Patterson walked across the stage at Oberlin College in 1862, she made history as the first African American woman to earn a bachelor's degree. But her story began six years earlier, when she and her six younger siblings likely escaped slavery in North Carolina and made their way to Ohio—a region known for its abolitionist community.

In Oberlin, Patterson found opportunity. She didn't settle for the two-year "ladies' course" that was typical for women at the time. Instead, she enrolled in the rigorous four-year classical program—what they called the "gentlemen's course"—studying Latin, Greek, and mathematics. Unlike some of her peers who faced discrimination, Patterson thrived at Oberlin.

After graduation, she began teaching in Ohio, then joined her former teacher Fanny Jackson Coppin as assistant principal at Philadelphia's Institute for Colored Youth. By 1871, Patterson had become principal of Washington, D.C.'s brand-new Preparatory High School for Negro Youth (later renamed M Street High School, and eventually Paul Laurence Dunbar High School) as its first Black principal—and notably, one of the first women of any race to hold such a leadership role.

Patterson never married and devoted her life to education and humanitarian work in Washington, D.C. She understood that the nation's capital—carved from two slaveholding states and where slavery remained legal until Lincoln's special emancipation order in 1862—desperately needed committed educators to uplift those emerging from bondage.

Mary Jane died at age 54 in 1894, leaving behind a legacy of educational excellence that would influence generations of Black students.

Della Irving Hayden (ca. 1851–1924): From Enslavement to Educator

Born into slavery around 1851 in North Carolina, Della Irving was separated from her mother as a child and raised by her grandmother. After emancipation in 1865, she was finally reunited with her mother Charlotte and moved to Franklin, Virginia, where she discovered her love for learning.

Della's educational journey led her to Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute (now Hampton University), where she studied alongside future leaders like Booker T. Washington. At her 1877 commencement, she delivered a powerful speech titled "Our Work as Women" that won first prize—a $20 award presented by First Lady Lucy Webb Hayes (wife of Rutherford B) herself. Hayes clasped Della's hand and told her: "I hope you may be to your people as your speech said. I trust you will find your work and do it well and may the Lord prosper you." Della would later call it the happiest day of her life.

After a brief marriage that ended when her husband died just months after their wedding, Della dedicated herself fully to education. She became "lady principal" at Virginia Normal and Collegiate Institute (now Virginia State University) in 1890, then served in the same role at the State Normal School at Petersburg for thirteen years.

But her greatest achievement came in 1904 when she founded the Franklin Normal and Industrial Institute, a residential school for Black girls (later accepting male day students). Despite limited resources, Della single-handedly fundraised to build multiple buildings, acquire farmland, and create boarding facilities for dozens of students. "I have been trying to teach my people to help themselves," she wrote. "It has been my heart's desire to help elevate my race." (Another Foremother who worked tirelessly to provide education to Black girls was of course Mary McLeod Bethune, who labored and scraped to found the Daytona Literary and Industrial Training School for Negro Girls in 1904 in Florida, which later became Bethune-Cookman University)

Della was also deeply involved in her community, leading local chapters of the Women's Christian Temperance Union and the YWCA, and serving in church leadership. Her life was tragically cut short in 1924 when she died in the town of Franklin's first fatal automobile accident. In 1953, the local high school was named in her honor, cementing her legacy in Virginia's Western Tidewater region.

Anna Julia Cooper (1858–1964): Role Model for Learning Communities

Born enslaved in Raleigh, North Carolina in 1858, Anna Julia Cooper would become one of the most influential Black feminist intellectuals of her era. After the Civil War, she pursued education relentlessly, eventually earning degrees from Oberlin College (B.A. in mathematics, 1884; M.A., 1888) despite facing discrimination—she had to fight to take courses reserved for men.

In 1892, Cooper published "A Voice from the South by a Black Woman of the South," a groundbreaking collection of essays that established her as a pioneering Black feminist theorist. In it, she articulated what we now recognize as intersectionality, arguing that Black women faced unique challenges at the convergence of race and gender oppression. Her most famous declaration captures this: "Only the Black woman can say 'when and where I enter, in the quiet, undisputed dignity of my womanhood, without violence and without suing or special patronage, then and there the whole Negro race enters with me.'"

Cooper became a legendary educator and administrator at M Street High School (now Dunbar High School) in Washington, D.C., eventually serving as principal from 1902-1906. Unlike Booker T. Washington's emphasis on vocational training, Cooper advocated passionately for classical higher education for Black students. She pushed her students toward Ivy League universities and HBCUs, believing that intellectual excellence—not mere job training—was the path to true liberation. The D.C. School Board ultimately forced her out because she refused to teach a limited "colored curriculum."

Undeterred, Cooper continued her own education. In 1925, at age 67, she earned her Ph.D. from the Sorbonne in Paris, becoming the fourth Black woman from the United States to earn a doctorate, and the first Black American to receive a doctorate from "Paris IV." She later became president of Frelinghuysen University, a school for working-class Black adults, and even opened her home for classes—naming a program the Hannah Stanley Opportunity School after her enslaved mother.

Cooper was a founding member of the Colored Women's League (1892), the only woman elected to the American Negro Academy (1893), and a frequent speaker at national and international conferences on race and women's rights. She lived to be 105 years old, passing away in 1964—long enough to witness the early victories of the civil rights movement she helped inspire. Her intellectual legacy continues to shape Black feminist thought today.

What These Women Knew, and What We Must Remember

What these women knew—and what we must always remember—is that attacks on education have been around for a long, long time. The struggle revolves around whose humanity is recognized, whose history is preserved, who acts to repress due to fear and spite, how we collectively access power and change, and how we guarantee and fight for freedom. From slave codes that criminalized Black literacy to today’s backlash of book bans, curriculum gag orders, and the deliberate starving of public and higher education, the message is the same: fear what Black people and other folks of color might know, with special fear of what women (and here I have emphasized Black women) teach and share.

Mary Jane Patterson, Della Irving Hayden, and Anna Julia Cooper confronted that fear head-on, building classrooms, campuses, and curriculums that insisted Black minds were extraordinary and Black futures were non‑negotiable. We can rely on their legacy to remind us that every act of federal, state, or even local PTA suppression, exclusion (and let's be honest, racism) must be met with a louder, braver insistence that we all have the right to learn, to teach, and to use our power. This is not just literacy insofar as reading a book, but being literate: about our lives, our rights, and the efforts to stifle our curiosity and wisdom by feeding us endless distraction, fake news, and other forms of detritus.

Let's close Black History Month by re-asserting that literacy is both our shield and our sword.

Thanks for reading this edition of #SistoryLessons, a biweekly newsletter that uses the lessons from Foremothers who led the way as encouragement and guide for these times of resilience. The series is based on stories from my award-winning book, Our Brave Foremothers: Celebrating 100 Black, Brown, Asian, and Indigenous Women Who Changed the Course of History, and other, ongoing research.

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