The Middle Passage Project
The Middle Passage Project
The Middle Passage Project
The Middle Passage is a pictorial that showcases the atrocities committed in Africa by
European slave traders. Tom Feelings, the artist behind this work, was an African-American
activist, illustrator, author, and teacher. As a child growing up in the civil rights movement, he
was determined to dedicate himself to sharing with the world the beauty of “blackness.” In a
1985 interview, he stated the following about his catalog: "I bring to my work a quality which is
rooted in the culture of Africa and expanded by the experience of being black in America."
Feelings also spent a fair bit of time in Tema, a Ghanian city. While he was there, he did work for
the Nkrumah government, on their magazine African Review. Feelings’ aim was to provide the
children of Africa positive images of themselves. From this, we can infer that this pictorial is a
reliable source of information when regarding the injustice endured by the African people, which
This pictorial includes images of enslavement. It depicts the inhumane treatment the
African captives endured--such as: being packed into boats like sardines, being force-fed to
prevent suicide by starvation, being dragged, having to live in the same space as the
decomposing body of someone they knew, being separated from their families, being beaten into
submission, being stripped of their clothes, being branded with hot iron, being forced to march
long distances as they are tied up, and making the decision to jump overboard and drown. But it
does leave out the sickness. We can infer this from some of the images, but it does not show the
true extent of the enclosures--that they were not given bathrooms and were forced to lie in their
filth, which made disease spread. It also does not show the lack of oxygen, sometimes not
enough for a candle to burn. Or that their bodies were not used to the European food, and
sometimes not able to digest it, which only made the aforementioned problem worse. Or that the
women were often raped. Or that the captives were forced to dance to keep them fit. Point is, the
true extent of the vile events that took place span far and wide. While The Middle Passage does a
I’d say that this pictorial is a useful tool, because it illustrates the gruesome events which
took place in detail. It does not censor nakedness, nor brutality, nor wickedness. It does not make
any written comments on what took place, but rather simply shows the truth. It does not spoon
feed the reader a conclusion, but lets them digest it, sit with it, then reconcile with the past in
their own way. The images shown are powerful, and I would certainly recommend showing it to
anyone who may not be aware of the true extent to which the slave traders terrorized the
continent of Africa. I will certainly be showing my future child(ren) this once they are of age to
understand such a thing, since this may not be talked about in their history class (at least not to
the level at which this book shows). What I believe the illustrations do extremely well is the lack
of color, as a way to get across the ideas more clearly. The film ‘Schindler’s List’ does this same
thing, and I wonder if Feeling’s book inspired that decision. In said movie, the monochrome lens
works to focus the audience’s attention on the actions taking place--so that they do not get
distracted by scenery that would otherwise by pleasing to the eye. Because frankly, there was no
beauty in the actions taking place. And it is important for viewers of that film to understand that.
In the same vein, Tom Feelings’ The Middle Passage does not include color, as if to emphasize
the contrasting skin colors of the traders, and the people of Africa, now turned captives.
This pictorial tells us that the dominant powers of this time were more concerned with
development and wealth than ethics. This is unfortunately still true today, but nowhere near the
same extent that it was. We thankfully now have people in place to check their power, and to
make sure that something like this never, ever, happens again. This pictorial at least begged the
question for me, as “why?” Why were the traders okay with doing this? But the answer is also
unfortunately tied to the future events of World War Two. We beg the question “why did the
German citizens sit around and do nothing while the soldiers murdered the Jewish people?” or
say “certainly, I would have done something.” But in almost every case, this is not true. Like
German citizens of that time, the European citizens were fed knowledge of nationalism and
superiority. Simultaneously, they were told that the Africans were “less than them,” or perhaps
more accurately, “less than humans.” And once that became the popular sentiment, who was to
go against that, at the risk of chastisement? This parallels the German citizens during that later
time, with them being told lies of Jewish crimes against their nation, and extreme nationalism.
Again, the statement may remain of “well, we wouldn’t do anything like this today,”
when that is unfortunately also untrue. A teacher by the name of Jane Elliot conducted an
experiment in response to this very statement back in 1970. She divided the class into groups
based on eye color. She told the students that people with blue eyes were smarter, faster, and
overall better humans than their brown counterparts. To further this, the blue-eyed students were
given special privileges, such as staying out for recess longer. In response to this, the blue-eyed
students behaved in a disturbingly similar way to the racists of the Jim Crow era, or german
citizens of the World War Two era. And when the roles were reversed, with brown eyes being
told they are, in fact, the actual smartest, fastest, and best humans, the same exact thing occurred.
This goes to show that humans are a tribal species. We like to be part of a group--usually the
dominant. And as a result, we sometimes turn a blind eye to whom this hurts. Connecting this
back to the episode of history shown in this pictorial, we can see that it was a more primitive
time. Still a time of the conquerors and the conquered. A time without many international laws.
One problem that may arise with this style is that it does not do enough for some people.
Pictures may not be enough to convey the real suffering Africans endured. Some illustrations,
such as the one of captives jumping overboard, are not clear without context. Without prior
knowledge, one may think that they were doing that to escape their captors. In fairness, they
were doing just that, only not in the way one may guess. In jumping off the boat, bound by
chains, they were knowingly ending their lives. They weighed the options, and decided that
death was preferable to serving under colonizers. Without this information, the illustration is not
Part Two
I am Ntonni, a person of the Asante nation. My mother once told me that my name means
“hero.” But I have a hard time believing that I live up to it. My life has been pleasant and without
much stress outside of my daily chores. I have a few friends whom I will frequently spend time
with in the town. But in one instance of darkness, all of this was ripped away from me.
My friends and I were having a good time together as usual, when our vision was
suddenly pulled to a darkness growing larger in the water. I saw many shapes protruding out of
it, like an animal. As it got closer, I realized that it was a ship, yet none like I had ever seen
before. The ship pulled up to the coast, and sooner than I could imagine, white-skinned humans
poured out from the vessel, and began shouting words I did not yet understand. We started
hearing screams and cries before long, and took this as a command to run. I ran back to my home
as quickly as I could to tell my family what was happening at the coast. We hid in our home as
best we could, but before long, the invaders had kicked our door down and wrangled us into their
chains. My mother tried to put up a fight, but was lashed with a barred whip. I screamed out in a
panic, little to the care of our new captors. With tears streaming down my face, I thought it all
No attempt was made at explaining what was happening. We were told a simple
command: move. And anyone that made a move not designated by the white-skinned were
beaten. Most of us took head of that warning, but one woman was not about to quit the
resistance. She began screaming in the face of her captor, saying “how could you do this to us?
Why would you commit such violence to another human? This isn't right!” Upon laying a hand
on him, the white man pulled out his weapon and ended her life. As she lay lifeless on the
ground, I could hear shrieks emitting from the bloodied maw of her presumed family. A few
invaders unchained her body, and threw her to the side. The command was given once more, and
As we approached the large vessel, the men prodded us into tighter groups. We were then
pushed up a wooden ramp to our new home--a tight, damp enclosure without any windows. Our
captors pushed us in as far as we could go, much to our displeasure. Many of us were forced to
fold ourselves into inhuman shapes in order to fit. And for the next twelve hours, this was our
reality. Together, yet alone. As time moved, a few of us started having trouble breathing. Cries
erupted, but they were met with no answer. Tears were cried when we realized they were not
giving us a space to relieve ourselves. The smell of filth quickly filled our enclosure, and many
commanded us again to move. We did not understand until being physically punished that they
wanted us to dance. Be it for amusement or to keep us fit, I did not know. But I do know that it
was humiliating. They took us from our home, our culture, our families, our happiness. And now
they want us to do something that should be reserved for times of joy. After this was said and
done, they laid before us some nourishment. It was very different from what we were used to,
and as a result, many of us could not stomach it. A few of us even refused to eat, choosing
starvation over submitting to the monsters that had taken them. That’s when those men appeared
with a tool which opened the mouth, and forced food down their throats. It was evident that they
wanted us alive, but were none the more caring of our well-being beyond that.
They then took out a different tool--a metal rod with a blazing tip. One-by-one, we were
struck on the side, our skins burned to reveal a pattern of ownership. Those who fought back
were silenced, restrained, and punished. This was truly hell, yet none that we deserved. This was
evil incarnate. After seeing the insurmountable might of our captors, it became obvious that there
were few options left. Looking down at my chains which bounded my humanity, I decided I want
to go home. I looked in the swollen eyes of my neighbor, and fixed my gaze on the bright sky
line. In one swift motion, I left the group they put us in, and ran to the edge of the boat. Without
a second thought, I lept off into the dark depths. In the water, I began to sink. In my last view of
light, I saw many brothers and sisters taking after my example, choosing this route home. Never
again will I be held a prisoner to these cruel men. Never again will I have to see the suffering of