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I'll See That Boy Whipped

This is a great story about the wheel of justice/karma dishing out its just desserts. When I was about 13, I and several of my siblings went away for the weekend to an annual church youth outing at one of several camp grounds back home in Texas. There must have been about 30 of us who attended. We were to be under the care of our pastor, and a few volunteers among the parents. Before going, all of our parents were instructed to sign wavers, recognizing the pastor's right to discipline us at his discretion while we were in his care for the weekend.

I loved these outings, which included bonfires and teachings in the evening, and baseball, hiking, and canoeing in the day.

Among those attending with us were Ty, a black boy my family took a liking too, and Lizzy, a white girl, about the age of 14.

My parents were true Christians in every sense of the word... walked the walk, not just talked the talk. They taught me and my brothers and sisters from our earliest youth not to have racist sentiments towards others...that all people were created in God's image, regardless of race or color. Our pastor was of like sentiments, as we heard him teach this from the pulpit on a couple of occasions. Unfortunately, Lizzy, the 14 year old white girl mentioned above seemed to harbor a dislike for black people.

Ty was the only black child on the trip, as there were so few black people in our part of rural Texas. He was about 12 years old. My parents often had him and his folks over our house for barbecues, and we kids would all play football together.

Well, on the camp outing, several of us, including me, some of my sisters, Ty, and Lizzy went back into the woods to explore. Lizzy was very "standoffish" with Ty, and called him "boy" several times. Suddenly, Lizzy said she was going to tell the pastor that Ty slapped her bottom, and used foul language. She thought for sure that he would get a whipping from the pastor, or one of the volunteer parents for this. She stated adamantly to us, "I'll see that boy whipped!" and, "I'll see him cry and beg under the lash." Ty was nervous, and rightly so, as the report of his slapping Lizzy's bottom, as a black boy, would not be well received in most of the south in those days.

I and my siblings were indignant, and outraged at this injustice, and swore among ourselves to "save Ty's bottom" at all costs. When we got back to the camp, Lizzy started to put on this dramatic display, shouting that Ty had slapped her bottom, and used foul language. Our pastor and several of the parent chaperones gathered to inquire about this ruckus. Again, Lizzy shouted that Ty slapped her bottom and cussed at her. Our pastor, being a wise man, took Lizzy to a separate place and asked her to describe what happened, then he took my sisters and I separately to get our report. We told the truth, that Lizzy was calling Ty "boy," and said she would see him whipped.

After a thorough investigation, the pastor assembled all 30 of us kids, and chaperones, and said that he had determined that Lizzy was lying, and a racist. He turned to her, and said, "Did you say you would see Ty whipped?" She looked down in silence. He said, "Well, you shall be judged by your own words." He then instructed Ty, me, and my sisters to go back into the woods, and pick several switches. Lizzy was to be whipped, and Ty (and the rest of us) were to see it. We picked about a dozen switches, and brought them back to pastor, who carefully took their leaves off with his pen knife. Lizzy looked scared to death, and started to plea with the pastor not to whip her...that it was inappropriate to whip her, as a girl, in front of the others. The pastor replied, "you didn't see anything wrong with Ty being bared and whipped in front of his friends, did you?" Again, she was silent. The pastor then instructed to Lizzy to bare her bottom, and lie down on a picnic bench, in such a way that the rest of us would not see her private parts. He then methodically switched her, from the top of her bottom to the bottom of her thighs. By the third stroke, she was screaming, crying, and begging for it to stop. She got about 10 strokes, after which she was told to collect herself, pull up her jeans, and return to the group. My sisters and I were quite satisfied with the wheels of justice, at least this time, dishing out its just desserts.
phillysteve phillysteve 36-40, M 2 Responses Oct 31, 2013

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Serves her right.

What a great story - the weals of justice even:-)