Thoreau Singing in Jail

There were two quotes in Thoreau’s “Resistance to Civil Government,” that really stuck out to me. Both were in the passage describing his night in prison. One was, “I believe that most of [my neighbors] are not aware that they have such an institution as the jail in their village” (272). This quote reminded me of conversations about privilege that I’ve had before. In this context, privilege would mean having certain advantages because of a trait you were born with: your race, how much money you grew up with, your sex, your gender identity, your looks, your health, your physical ability, etc. We aren’t always aware of our privileges, and we aren’t always aware of how they affect others. Sometimes, we aren’t aware that other people don’t have these privileges.

Thoreau was a pretty privileged guy: he was white, male, middle-class, and educated. He lived in a time when these traits—especially being white and male—validated his metaphorical parking. He had huge personal freedom, and he took full advantage of it. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, actually it’s amazing. He did what he wanted to do with his life, which is not easy, especially because what he wanted to do was so unconventional. What I really like about Thoreau is that he was aware that, by virtue of his race and sex, he had rights most of the population couldn’t even dream of. That isn’t a common thing. I’m not sure I would feel comfortable saying the same for about Emerson, for example. For one thing, he renamed his wife because he didn’t like the way her name sounded when New Englanders said it (I’d love to know how she felt about it. If she supported the change, then I withdraw my criticism). But Emerson also seems to address all his speeches to academics and clerics—positions held almost exclusively by men. He seems unaware of all kinds of jails—the ones entrapping poor people, uneducated people, and women, for example. Thoreau can be a little self-centered, but this essay makes it very clear that he was aware of other people’s jails, was committed to calling attention to them and trying to abolish them, and was equally aware that his own jail was not nearly as difficult to break out of.

I also loved the line, “I was shown quite a long list of verses which were composed by some young men who had been detected in an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them” (271). This is what Thoreau is doing: trying to escape and, because he cannot ever really rid himself of the parts of society he feels angered, saddened, or entrapped by, making art to speak out against it. So much resistance is about singing, literally and metaphorically, so that the people who are trapping you know that you’re still there and that you aren’t complacent. Many forms of resistance can be classified as singing, even if they aren’t beautiful. From Thoreau’s cranky essays in the 19^th century to anarchists in the 21^st shaving half their heads, diving into dumpsters for dinner, and never taking baths: it’s all a form of singing.