A Klan is reborn at Stone Mountain and Congress shuts the door

The Ku Klux Klan was refounded at Stone Mountain in Georgia in 1915, with the full Reconstruction era costume and cars instead of horses. It aimed its hatred at Jewish and Catholic immigrants as much as at black Americans, and by the early 1920s it claimed about five million members and controlled the politics of Indiana and Oregon for a time. That sentiment became law in 1924, when Congress cut immigration to a trickle and closed the era of nearly unrestricted entry to the United States. The ethnic neighbourhoods that had grown for a generation stopped growing from abroad and began to settle. Kennedy adds the consequence nobody could see at the time, which is that the door was shut in advance against people who would try to escape Nazi Germany in the following decade. The Haitian communities of New York and Boston grew up under the same quota system.

On 12 August 1915 American Marines stood inside the Haitian National Assembly with fixed bayonets until the members confirmed Philippe Sudré Dartiguenave as president. Dartiguenave, born on 6 April 1863 into a wealthy light skinned family, had been president of the Senate when Sam was killed. The Americans refused Rosalvo Bobo, the man most likely to win, and settled on Dartiguenave as someone who would cooperate. He was the first light skinned southerner to hold the office since 1879, and he governed as a proxy for American officials who ran the money, the armed forces and foreign policy. He signed a treaty giving the occupation legal form and placing Haitian finances under American control. The Haitian army was dissolved and replaced by a national guard armed, trained and commanded by the United States. That guard administered the corvée, which required peasants to work without pay on the national roads, a compulsory labour system imposed on the grandchildren of people who had fought a revolution to end compulsory labour.

Back from Haiti, Addie Hunton reported that important people were paying attention and that her quiet propaganda on Haiti's behalf might come to something. Quiet is the wrong word for what she then did. Inside the same year she spoke about Haiti to the California state convention of the National Association of Colored Women, to the National Federation of Colored Women's Clubs, to the NAACP convention in Chicago, and to the National Association of Colored Women again at Oakland. The following year she carried the subject to the Pan-African Conference in New York. Malbranche-Sylvain and Hudicourt were working the same circuit from the other end, through the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, so that what happened to a woman in Port-au-Prince could be described in a hall in California within months. The speed of the reporting did nothing to slow the occupation. While Hunton toured, Haitian girls went on being harmed by the men garrisoned in their towns, and the list of their names went on getting longer.

The legislative record of the 1940s in Haiti shows women's rights argued over in the assembly, with grandstanding on every side of the question. The women who kept their own records were tracking something else across the same years. Misogynist speech did not thin out over the decade. It grew. Women's lives were handled as expendable. Care for women, in law, in medicine and in the ordinary running of a household, was largely absent, and it was women who documented all of this, about women, in letters and studies and the pages of their own paper. That documentation changes how the assembly attacks of 1946 read. Taken alone, the insults thrown at women in that chamber look like one bad session. Set against ten years of accumulated evidence, they are the loudest point in a campaign of attrition that had been running the whole time. The chamber only made the contempt audible.