In Never Caught, historian Erica Armstrong Dunbar tells the story of Ona “Oney” Judge Staines. Born into slavery at George and Martha Washington’s Mount Vernon plantation, Ona was the daughter of one of Martha Custis Washington’s slaves and a white indentured servant. Throughout the book, as Dunbar explores the ravages of slavery and the devastating effects of a life lived in bondage, she also shows how slaveholders cruelly and wrongly used the rhetoric of paternalism, caretaking, and benevolence to defend and maintain the abhorrent institution of slavery. By demonstrating the ways in which slaveholders claimed that slavery somehow saved enslaved individuals from a more difficult life, Dunbar argues that the institution of slavery was maintained through the creation of the illusion that freedom was, for Black people throughout America’s history, too large a burden to bear.
Throughout Never Caught, Dunbar demonstrates how paternalism was used to perpetuate and deepen slavery’s role in America from the earliest days of the country’s creation. Essential to maintaining the institution of slavery, paternalism is “the policy or practice on the part of people in positions of authority of restricting the freedom and responsibilities of those subordinate to them in the subordinates' supposed best interest.” By telling themselves—and their human property—that slaves were better off under the “care” of their masters, slaveholders were able to justify their own actions while belittling their slaves’ desire for freedom, agency, and liberty. Although George Washington famously emancipated his slaves on his deathbed, Dunbar interrogates Washington’s larger legacy by illustrating how the Founding Father’s own paternalism decimated and derailed the lives of his numerous slaves. Washington, Dunbar writes, “held fast to paternalistic assumptions about African slavery, believing that enslaved men and women were better off with a generous owner than emancipated and living independent lives.” It’s unclear if Washington truly subscribed to this belief, or if he used this rhetoric to stave off his own moral interrogation of his slaveholding ways and to attempt to mollify his slaves. What is clear, however, is that paternalistic attitudes about white people knowing what was “best” for their slaves erased Black people’s agency and liberty for centuries and helped perpetuate slavery throughout the nation. In believing—or acting as if he believed—that freedom was too large a burden for Black people to bear, Washington and countless other slaveholders like him justified and even attempted to make noble the practice of owning other people’s lives and destinies.
Dunbar goes on to demonstrate how Washington’s paternalistic attempts to mollify Ona by making her feel that her position was a uniquely good one (and that she was an especially valued member of their household) were ultimately exposed for the insidious control tactics they truly were. When Martha Washington’s granddaughter Eliza married, the Washingtons announced their intention to give Ona to Eliza. Ona “now knew for certain that in the eyes of her owner, she was replaceable, just like any of the hundreds of slaves who toiled for the Washingtons.” Ona was never being protected or given unique opportunities while in bondage—all along, the Washingtons’ held condescending, cruel, and racist belief that a life lived under enslavement to a powerful, prominent family such as theirs was preferable to freedom. Controlling slaves like Ona was simply a tool meant to further fuel slavery’s stronghold in America.
Dunbar shows how deep-seated the rhetoric of paternalism was within those who perpetuated slavery by focusing on Washington’s reaction to Ona’s escape. When George and Martha learned of Ona’s flight—and later discovered that she was living in Portsmouth, New Hampshire—they declared that she must have been seduced away from their estate by a Frenchman. “In Washington's mind,” Dunbar writes, “there was no possible way that Judge could or would have engineered her own escape under the watchful eyes of her owners.” Washington even wrote in a letter to an acquaintance that “not the least suspicion was entertained of [Ona] going, or having formed a connexion with any one who could induce her to such an Act.” Dunbar uses Washington’s baffled reaction to Ona’s escape to demonstrate just how deeply the rhetoric of paternalism inhibited slaveholders from seeing their slaves as capable of making rational decisions for themselves—and how this cruel, racist line of thought perpetuated the system of slavery for years.
The deeply ingrained rhetoric of paternalism—racist, dehumanizing, and cruel as it was—nonetheless permeated American society for centuries and led to the widespread proliferation and protection of the institution of slavery. By suggesting that enslaved Black people were completely dependent upon their owners for care and guidance, paternalism ignored the burgeoning successes of free Black communities throughout the North and created dangerous stereotypes that fueled slavery for years to come. Dunbar showcases the bravery of Ona—and, by extension, that of countless former slaves whose names and stories have been forgotten—in rebelling against this rhetoric, taking control of her own destiny, and refusing to relinquish her freedom. This was profoundly important in the long road to abolishing the paternalistic ideas that furthered slavery’s inhumane agenda.
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Slavery and Paternalism Quotes in Never Caught
The business of slavery received every new enslaved baby with open arms, no matter the circumstances of conception.
With George and Martha Washington hundreds of miles away, their lives were now in the hands of George Augustine and the overseers. Would the slaves at Mount Vernon be treated decently? Would the nature of their work change, and if so, how? The uncertainty of life and the involuntary separation of family members reminded every black person at Mount Vernon that the system of slavery rendered them powerless.
The president and his wife were well aware that the practice of slavery was under attack in most of the Northern states. They also knew that though New York's residents still clung to bound labor, public sentiment regarding African slavery was changing. Unwilling to even think about abandoning the use of black slaves, the president and the first lady were careful in their selection of men and women who traveled with them from Mount Vernon. Their selections involved only those slaves who were seen as "loyal" and therefore less likely to attempt escape.
Although private correspondence reveals Martha Washington's personal struggles with the new demands placed upon her; Ona Judge, an illiterate teenager, left behind no such trace. We can only imagine what Judge's transition to Northern life must have felt like; it had to have been terrifying or at the very least, unsteadying. Yet the young bondwoman handled the abrupt change like a seasoned slave. […] [Ona] was Martha's "go-to girl" for just about everything, and it was Judge's duty to know the desires of her mistress before Martha Washington knew them herself. A slave always had to be prepared, for anything.
Coming from a family of talented seamstresses, Judge was responsible for Martha Washington's appearance. She selected her gowns, made small repairs on aging skirts, removing stains whether they be from food or the dirt from the unpaved streets, and then dressed her. What appeared to be the mundane task of wardrobe selection for the first lady was actually quite important. A wardrobe lay at the root of one's appearance, and the mistress and her slave girl fashioned an image for the new American aristocracy.
When the carriage returned Judge to the curved driveway at the Mount Vernon estate, the bondwoman would alter her frame of reference. Her eyes would miss the spotting of free black men and women in the marketplace, and her ears longed for discreet conversations about black freedom. On her return trip to Virginia, Judge would confront the fixed reality of her life as a slave. While her lifestyle and duties may have appeared desirable, even glamorous, to the enslaved at Mount Vernon, Judge knew that black Northerners could enjoy much more than she could.
The president worried that his own slaves were in danger of exposure to the epidemic of black freedom, and although Washington believed that his slaves were better served and cared for in his possession, he understood the power and the allure of freedom. Washington wrote, "For although I do not think they would be benefitted by the change, yet the idea of freedom might be too great a temptation for them to resist.”
Imprudently believing that he could prevent his slaves from hearing about the laws, Washington insisted that the utmost discretion be used regarding their plan of slave rotation in and out of Philadelphia. More than a loss of labor was at stake. If Ona Judge and her enslaved companions uncovered the truth about their slave status in Philadelphia, they would possess knowledge that could set them free. Power would shift from the president to his human property, making them less likely to serve their master faithfully, and eventually, they might run away.
In an effort to help Eliza ease into her new matrimony, Martha Washington stepped in, and offered Eliza the support she needed: she would bequeath Judge to Eliza Law as a wedding gift.
If Judge ever believed that her close and intimate responsibilities for her owner yielded preferential treatment, she now understood better. The bondwoman now knew for certain that in the eyes of her owner, she was replaceable, just like any of the hundreds of slaves who toiled for the Washingtons.
But still, she was willing to face dog-sniffing kidnappers and bounty hunters for the rest of her life. Yes, her fear was consuming but so, too, was her anger. Judge could no longer stomach her enslavement, and it was the change in her ownership that pulled the trigger on Judge's fury. She had given everything to the Washingtons. For twelve years she had served her mistress faithfully, and now she was to be discarded like the scraps of material that she cut from Martha Washington's dresses. Any false illusions she had clung to had evaporated, and Judge knew that no matter how obedient or loyal she may have appeared to her owners, she would never be considered fully human.
The beautiful and expensive clothing that she wore to serve the Washingtons was packed away, and instead, Judge would have dressed in inconspicuous clothing, allowing her to hide in plain sight. She was a hunted woman and would try to pass, not for white, but as a free black Northern woman.
While her walks about town were a reminder of her newfound freedom, they were always accompanied by the concerns of recapture. Judge never forgot that she was a hunted woman. Ever vigilant and alert, she knew she'd be a fool to dawdle in the narrow streets of her new city, for she might be asked to present freedom papers. Black men and women needed to walk with purpose in Portsmouth, lest they be questioned about their business, attracting unwanted or perhaps hostile attention from their white neighbors.
Why would any of the Washingtons' slaves run away, especially Ona Judge? Hadn't she been treated well, clothed, and fed? […] Even though John Langdon was no longer a slaveholder, he knew what must be done. Not only were the Washingtons family friends, but as a senator of the United States, he was obligated to follow the law. Ona Judge was a fugitive and the Washingtons were entitled to their property.
In Washington's mind, there was no possible way that Judge could or would have engineered her own escape under the watchful eyes of her owners. Someone else must have lured her away and planned her escape, for as Washington wrote to Wolcott, "not the least suspicion was entertained of her going, or having formed a connexion with any one who could induce her to such an Act."
Over time, Washington grew adamant that a boyfriend was at the center of Judge's getaway. The president believed that a known acquaintance of the first family, a "Frenchman" to be exact, was involved in Judge's escape.
If Washington wanted his slave woman back, he would have to follow the law and consequently expose himself to the growing antislavery sentiment in New Hampshire and across New England.
Righteous indignation and a belief in her right to be free prompted her final and fierce response to Bassett, telling him, "I am free now and choose to remain so."
"When asked if she is not sorry she left Washington, as she has labored so much harder since, than before, her reply is ‘No, I am free, and I have, I trust, been made a child of God by the means.’” Although she never regretted her escape, she could not forget her family members who still lived at Mount Vernon. Leaving them behind was the greatest of sacrifices.
Only sixteen years old, Philadelphia was saddled with the responsibility of serving the new Mrs. Law. Perhaps Philadelphia had proven herself to be trustworthy and reliable and was therefore the natural replacement for her older sister. Or maybe, in a fit of anger, Mrs. Washington purposely selected Philadelphia to serve the new Mrs. Law, a duty that would require her to leave Mount Vernon and head for a new home in the Federal City. If vindictiveness was her motive, Martha Washington was successful. Philadelphia followed in her older sister's footsteps, leaving behind the world she knew at Mount Vernon.
