By Luana M. Graves Sellars

Every month, the Lowcountry Gullah Newsletter is sent out and I share a variety of cultural topics and things that are circling around my head that are screaming to come out. Since I get a lot of requests for back posts, here’s where you can find several of my favorites. BTW – if you’re not signed up for the newsletter yet, click here.

Enjoy!

June 2025 | The Big House on the Plantation, Burned

The historic Nottoway Plantation in White Castle, Louisiana, burned down as a result of a massive electrical fire on May 15. The main building at Nottoway Plantation, which was used as a Bed & Breakfast and wedding venue had 53,000 square feet of floor space and sat on 15 acres. 

Built as a Sugar Plantation in 1859, Nottoway Plantation was considered one of the greatest antebellum treasures of the South, hosting weddings and boasting of being an invitation to experience the greatness of Southern hospitality where people could stay at their Bed and Breakfast or celebrate weddings. 

The world’s largest surviving antebellum plantation mansion, completely burned to the ground.

Sugar Plantations

Sugar Plantations, like rice plantations, were the worst and most dangerous plantations for enslaved people that existed. The backbreaking work, which included huge vats of boiling sugar contributed to the high mortality rate. The number of accidents from the process was staggering. Primarily found in the Caribbean, significant numbers of enslaved people were needed to work the fields, mills, and boiling houses. This system was characterized by brutal conditions, high mortality rates, and a constant need to import new slaves to maintain production. 

Colonial Collapse Euphoria 

The Nottoway Plantation fire was not just another building that burned down in America. As the largest antebellum plantation that had been successfully utilizing its existence for profit, its destruction has highlighted a national conversation about slavery, plantations, our history and in what context they should be presented. 

What amuses me about the fire, was watching the polar opposite responses that came from it. 

To be honest, I didn’t know that Colonial Collapse Euphoria was even a thing until the fire. But as soon as I heard about it, and saw the responses to it, trust me, I get it. 

A lot of the news interviews showed several White people who were upset to lose such a historic treasure, yet many Black people were seen celebrating the loss of a symbol of pain and hate.

Images of people standing in from the fire pouring water bottles on the ground and of Black firemen sitting back and watching, not working flood the internet. 

Memes indicating that Harriet Tubman and Fredrick Douglass burned it down or that the ancestors have been waiting to do it for years have been popping up everywhere, as well as some that showed Black people having a family reunion in front of the fire have also been popular. 

Interestingly enough, it wasn’t only locals or visitors who had strong reactions. Even tour guides from Nottoway posted videos about the fire and were glad that the wrong information that the education department was sharing would come to life. 

Revisionist History

This plantation and many others are sold as being big farms. And in a lot of cases, the slave cabins are destroyed or left to deteriorate.  Nottoway may have been operating for years and profiting off of its revisionist history, but the fire has brought it to the forefront of our collective conversation about slavery. Some of the questions that beg answers are:

Why are plantations still being romanticized? 

Why are people still wanting to get married at a place of pain, torture and death, where blood is still in the soil?

The fire brings up a question for me, which before looking into it, I already know the answer. Considering the size and maintenance of the plantation, I wonder what has happened to the records from the enslavers. Were they kept? Destroyed prior to the fire?  

Of course, with the way that they have been “selling” the plantation, the details and records for the enslaved were probably not high on their marketing plan. The idea of the pain and suffering of enslaved people isn’t profitable, yet the incredible wealth of the enslavers, the beauty of their lives, fairy tales and the so-called heritage that came from it does. The enslavers’ life and livelihood that they received from slavery is considered as successful and impressive, but the notion that all of that was built on the backs of the forced labor is left as a minor subset to the narrative. 

Ignorant statements, from people who wrongly believe that enslaved people were stolen and were brought here to be taught a skill, are the types of mis-informed masses, who were upset about the fire.  

Years ago, I went to the Telfair Plantation in Savannah and was way beyond pissed when the guide had taken us upstairs in the plantation house and was sharing how lucky the enslaved children were that they got to sleep in the house and play all day. The children, some as young as 3, were used as play toys and entertainment for the young enslavers. If the white child was upset and cried, the enslaved child was beaten for causing the distress. 

Of course, I interrupted the tour guide and corrected him on the spot. I also spoke to management and shared my disappointment for the complete departure from the truth. 

That visit was probably one of the last plantation big houses that I have entered. And deliberately so for a couple of reasons. The first one being that I don’t go in the houses, because that’s not my story. I don’t want to hear about the luxury and grandeur that I am supposed to be impressed by. The second reason is that at Telfair, they had posters of information that shared that the enslavers were doing the enslaved a favor as a “paternal” form of enslavement. 

The term “paternal enslavers” refers to enslavers who used a form of paternalism to justify their ownership and control over enslaved people. They often viewed themselves as caregivers and guides, similar to a father, who was responsible for their wellbeing, while also maintaining absolute authority and claiming the fruits of the enslaved person’s labor. This paternalistic justification was used to mask the brutal realities of slavery and the complete lack of freedom for enslaved individuals. 

In one case, I’ve heard of a “benevolent” slave owner that owned 125 slaves, yet gracious enough to keep their families together. It’s so sad that we’re surrounded by revisionist history. To me, it’s devastating to be reminded that that’s the type of wrong historic messaging that’s out there being consumed and believed. And it needs to stop. 

During our recent annual fundraiser, Sankofa Nights, or speaker, Eternal Polk spoke of the history that’s right in front of us in plain sight. All that we have to do is look around and it’s right there. We control the narrative. So, what are we going to do about it? 

Plantation Records

Recently, I was fortunate enough to meet a follower who was not only local, but a researcher of Lowcountry enslavers. Through several emails and eventually a podcast, Tom Bouthillet has been researching the “Planter Class” of enslavers. (Side note: check out the podcast of the same name. The wealth, political status and livelihood that they achieved was incredible.) 

Of course, my family line of Joshua John Ward, is one that I have been focusing on, so I was thrilled to know that Tom has been working on my Ravenel line. 

Tom shared the Ravenel records which gave such incredibly detailed information that’s been left behind about the family lineage, the plantations that they owned. The information is so comprehensive that it even includes weather reports including temperature, snow depth like a “dollar” and earthquakes. 

What he’s found is a very rich account of the family’s treasured past. A keepsake for future generations. But, what struck me as I read about the comings and goings, the family trips and visitors, the opulence of their lives and ultimate devastation left by the revolutionary and civil wars, I couldn’t stop the growing level of anger and frustration that began to rise within me as I scanned the 286 pages for any references to their enslaved. 

I found a few names, Peter, who was described as loyal enough to tip off his enslavers about an upcoming rebellion, (which is another entirely different conversation) and a list of a handful of names and births. Considering that they owned 5 large plantations, that was more than very disappointing. But, what I realized was, that my search has always been one of pure desperation; just another one of many, that over the years where I found myself digging for any morsel or crumb or tidbit of information about my ancestors, and in this case, Ceasar Ravenel. 

I did connect their list of plantations directly to the data that I had previously identified to where he lived at one time, but nothing more than that. 

After a while, the sharp disparity in contrasts in information and detail between those of the enslavers and the enslaved, made me stop, as did the growing realization that my ancestors just didn’t matter. 

To the Ravenel’s and so many other enslavers, those that they enslaved weren’t as important as the china that they described and the patterns on the wallpaper in the foyer or even the beautiful grey moss hanging from the trees that lined the front yard.

It’s not fair. It just is not fair that records weren’t kept. That generations upon generations of people were essentially left with barely a footnote in history. That an entire population was considered to be less than human. Less than the horses. And barely seen nor recognized for the individual and collective contributions to the nation that they built and that we continue to enjoy the fruits of their labor. Every. Single. Day.

It’s ironic, we’ll probably not, that I received this Ravenel manuscript while the thoughts of writing this month’s newsletter were forming in my head. So, how do I and other Black people feel about the burning of Nottoway Plantation? Unless records of their enslaved were burned, which they weren’t. Colonial Collapse Euphoria. Do you want to know how I feel about the fire? By now, you probably have figured it out, but if you need to hear it, I. Don’t. Care. At. All.

May 2025 – It’s All About the Ancestors!

Since last month and my thoughts of cotton, (which I did plant and sadly has not grown) I’ve been thinking more and more of the privilege(s) that I, as a descendant of the enslaved truly have.

As I write this, I’m in Walterboro, SC preparing to speak at one of the city’s Rice Festival events. Part of my prep was getting familiar with the space and where I was going to speak, and looking for a table that I could put out some storytelling items that I bring with me from time to time. Today, I brought most of my artifact collection with me and as I set up the table, it became another physical reminder of how far we’ve come.

Over the years, I have been collecting random items that not only speak to American history, but also are personal reminders of different elements in time.

My Civil War focus led to my first purchase being a Union Army Soldier’s Brass Belt Buckle. To me, it’s a reminder of the military service and sacrifice that so many ancestors offered for their freedom and the freedom of others, even though they weren’t treated well nor knew what the outcome of the war would bring.  

I also have several original Harper’s Weekly Newspapers that are dated from the 1860s. One of the articles is from June 2, 1865, when Harriet Tubman and the Union Army conducted the Combahee River Raid, which was the largest emancipation event of the Civil War. 750 enslaved people were freed. And yes, I have it because it is the foundation of my documentary on Harriet Tubman. (Inserting plug here, my Harriet Tubman documentary is still available to stream through PBS. Information is below.)

Another article that I have is of the Robert Smalls’ daring escape from slavery as he took a Confederate ship, the CSS Planter. A proficient sailor, he piloted it and his family and several others to freedom, eventually handing the ship and Confederate war plans to the Union Army.  Keep reading, more details of both of their stories are below.

Since my topic that I was invited there to speak on was focused on rice, I brought my rice trunk model with me. Probably among the first items in my collection. As soon as I learned the rice story when I was in Georgetown, South Carolina, I knew that I had to have one.

In addition to the rice trunk, I also own two pairs of shackles, both of which came from Georgetown County. One says Georgetown Plantation Police on it, the other indicated that it is for a woman or child. To be honest, I believe that both sets are for a petite woman or child, as my bone structure is too large to fit them. 

The engravings connections to Georgetown are, of course, significant to me, as my ancestors, Catherine and George Ward and Caesar Ravenel, were all in Georgetown at some point. Interestingly enough, the county, which was home to over 150 rice plantations and the number 1 producer of rice worldwide, was also where organized planation policing came from.  A 1690 law in South Carolina, for instance, demanded “all persons under penalty of forty shillings to arrest and chastise any slave outside of his home plantation without a proper pass.” In Georgetown, there was too much money being made to not have a system of capture and return. But, I digress. That’s a topic for another month!

Anyway, the first time I saw and actually held shackles in my hands was on one of the first  plantation tours that I took in Georgetown, SC. (Please forgive me for not including that name of the tour guide here, I’m blanking out, but you know who you are and that I am forever grateful for your knowledge and incredible contributions of sharing the culture to the masses). They were identical to the ones that I have. To this day, I remember the immediate emotional reaction and muscle memory from the weight of those chains. They’re about 5-10 pounds and when I picked them up, I was simply devastated by how heavy they were. I couldn’t conceive of how someone could handle dragging them around day after day after day after day not only being forced to wear them, but walking miles after miles with them. 

They are very heavy, and I am able to wheel them around in a small suitcase, but, how could I complain about choosing NOT to carry them with me, as the ancestors didn’t have a choice. Therefore, neither do I.

So, every time I take them with me, I offer the audience the opportunity to hold them. I’ve also  been asked why I would even want to own them.

I bought them because, I want other people to have the physical view and a tangible appreciation for the experiences that enslaved people had. Reading or hearing about it doesn’t provide a clear enough understanding that holding them could ever deliver.

There are two instances that I recall that having the shackles made an impact. The first was when a local friend heard about my having them and asked if I would meet her so that her home schooled daughter could see and hold them. 

The second time was when I was teaching a class at a local high school and after speaking, a little white boy came up to the table and put them on. When I saw that, I knew then, that if I never showed them to anyone else in life, that I had them solely for him to experience.  

Actual working rice trunk in Georgetown, SC

 The last two of the items that I bring with me are slave badges or tags. I discovered their existence several years ago when some were unearthed in Charleston. The other city that I have come across them has been in Charlotte, NC. I have two from Charleston and one from Charlotte.

Like registering a car, enslavers paid the local municipality a tax for their enslaved. The tag, made from copper, was affixed on their clothes so that they could move around when away from the plantation or being loaned out for labor elsewhere.

Each tag was recorded with a number, as well as the identification of the enslaved skill, such as a porter, laborer, servant, blacksmith, fruit seller, mason or driver, etc. You get the idea. As far as I know, the International African American Museum in Charleston, has the most comprehensive display of the different types.

Most major cities required them, as with most slave societies that existed, they were an additional revenue stream for them.

Of the three that I have, I carry one in my wallet. It’s from Charleston and it says Laborer. I started carrying it for a few reasons. First, it is a reminder of one that my ancestor(s), especially Caesar Ravenel, probably wore, as he was in the Charleston area. The second reason, is that every time I open my wallet and can reach for money and not have any hindrances to what I choose to do with my time or money. And third, it’s a reminder that I can put it in a drawer anytime that I want.

And for that, I am very grateful.

April 2025 – It’s Planting Time!

I love the spring! There’s something about that temporary color that I call the “new green” that sprouts when the trees start to regenerate. To me, it’s a fresh brightness that makes the Earth seem new again. 

If anyone has seen me in person or in a picture, you might have noticed that I always have a strong and vibrant color on my nails. Well, this past winter, I found a new favorite spring nail color named fern, but I have renamed it to “new green”. 

So every time I see a flash of my hands covered in new green, its made me think about the spring, things growing and planting. Now mind you, I can keep a plant alive but, spending time in the garden, well, that’s just not me. Not that  I can’t, I just chose not to. But this green finger thing has got me thinking. 

In March, as I was doing my Gullah Festival circuit, I ran into a new friend, Alissa from Kidogo Farms, (insert shout out here :)!!) who at her booth, had a seed game where she had 10 little tin cups full of different seeds that were tied to plants that were prominent in Gullah Geechee foodways. Of course, I told her from the beginning that the only thing that I could identify was that they were seeds. Forget about what type they were. Well, seed by seed, as predicted, I got them all wrong, including the one that I was sure was a black eyed pea.

Most of them were vegetables, and a couple of them included the all important life everlasting plant and the other one was of my favorite flowers, a hibiscus. The life everlasting is a wild grown plant that when boiled, became a drink that had several medicinal properties. The hibiscus is also boiled down to make a tea or soro beverage, which is very popular in Caribbean culture (#gullahgeechee culture) as well. The hibiscus is also mixed with life everlasting to create a healthy tonic that cures many ailments. 

Now, of course part of my Hilton Head indoctrination, included receiving a bottle of freshly brewed life everlasting when I was suffering with my allergies one year. Believe me when I tell you that there was NOTHING that I could add to it to help me drink it down!!

But since then, several things really fascinated me. First, was that I realized that my ancestors were all farmers, and would have played and won the game very easily. They worked the land and also knew the value of land. Not only did they see the profit that enslavers received from the land, but they also knew that with the land came wealth, stability and sustainability for their family’s future. That’s why a lot of our ancestors worked from nothin’ to sumptin’ to be able to pass down land to their decedents.

Second, one of the seeds that she had was of what I thought were molded over from the heat of her car, was actually a cotton seed. What she taught me was that cotton plants actually come from three different types of seeds, which produce different colored plants. Cotton plants, which we are most familiar with, produce the white colored cotton. What I learned is, that there are three colors. In addition to the white or beige one, there’s a bluish green too!  

The other thing was that I remembered, was that the spring meant that it was time to plant Carolina gold rice; the crop that changed agricultural history in America and established the incredible wealth that lead to a rich planting society that was instrumental in bringing forth many founding fathers, declaration of independence signers, political figures and military officers. As an aside, if you haven’t listened to my recent Lowcountry Gullah Podcast called The Planters, check it out. 

My spring festival circuit took me to the Wilmington, NC area for Rice Fest, which is held on the grounds of a former rice plantation, so driving there took me through abandoned rice fields and cypress tree swamps. Seeing the fields and the thickness of the trees that were cropping up within the swamps that our forefathers cleared, re-enforced the respect and absolute pride that I have for the accomplishments and fortitude of my people.

So, as I sit here writing this, listening to some smooth jazz, in the comfort of my Gullah Geechee grandmother’s house, I realize how far my people have come and how grateful that I am. When I get home from NYC, I’m going to plant some cotton and hibiscus. And when I watch them grow, inch by inch, they will remind me of whence I’ve come.

I took a few videos of my stops along the road, which you can find on social media @lowcountrygullah. 

March 2025 – Gullah Geechee Here, There, Everywhere!

Recently a theme has been popping up in questions that I have been asked. During a class, someone asked about how Gullah, who were restricted to a plantation, spread the language throughout the Gullah Geechee Corridor from North Carolina to Florida. At another time, the question was asked why the Gullah consider themselves as descendants of West African enslaved people, but Jamaicans or other Caribbean people don’t always consider themselves as descendants of Africans. 

Both are great questions. And as the culture evolves, information and research is also evolving and deepening our knowledge of our culture. As you probably know from previous newsletters, records are at best, sketchy or just don’t exist. So, based on my research and information, here’s what I believe. 

First of all, if you are Black, regardless of where you come from, the US, Cuba, Brazil, Jamacia, Dominican Republic, and so on, at one time, your ancestry began in Africa. Slave ships made stops at ports everywhere, including the Caribbean, and as people were sold off, they were traded and transplanted all over the place. And some weren’t. That’s why there are Black people mixed into all of those places. And remember, in a lot of cases, the Caribbean islands were used as Seasoning Camps and a transitioning pit stop of sorts for the enslaved to be “broken into” becoming enslaved. (For more details on what they were and the experiences that the ancestors experienced, listen to the Lowcountry Gullah Podcast on the topic. Click here.)

One thing that we tend to forget is that slavery was a business. A very big business that fueled the economic engines of many countries and individuals. Now add in the fact that people were considered as an asset, commodity or cargo;  they were taken wherever the “need” for their services was. 

The distribution of Africans is evidenced by the cultural similarity that can be found all around the world. Gullah culture, language, music and traditions are everywhere, not just along the east coast of the United States. All you need to do is pay attention. Of course, there are variations, but the roots, so to speak are all the same and of African in nature. 

If you every heard some speak in the Jamaican patois or any other Caribbean island, and in Gullah, the tonality is virtually the same. Now you know why.  

Now, the second question is basically answered already. Because the Gullah culture and language is a blend of around 10 different West African countries, as people were dispersed, so was the language. So, the language was spread with similarities, although regional differences do exist, even though the foundations are all the same.  

The bottom line is that regardless of where you are, if you’re Black, we’re all related. Period. New research is coming out that might change some of the long standing beliefs that we’ve had about the culture, and hopefully I will be able to share it with you soon. 

Was that a major teaser? Yep. Stay tuned.

See you next month,

February 2025 – In A Word, Plantation.

                  Plantations

 

In full disclosure, I’m writing this during a weeklong getaway on Clermont Plantation in Georgetown County, South Carolina. Most of you might be familiar with the story of my ancestors, Catherine and George Ward, who were enslaved on a rice plantation by Joshua John Ward. JJ Ward owned between 6 and 9 plantations as far as I know and due to his wealth and success growing rice was called the “Rice King” as a result of his wealth from the sale of rice and was one of the top 10 enslavers in the US. For several decades he had close to 1,200 enslaved people. And by the way, through the amazing technology and information that comes from DNA research, I am one of his descendants.

So, for context, I’m writing this from Clermont Plantation, in Georgetown County, South Carolina. The plantation is on the Pee Dee River and is a stone’s throw away from Brookgreen Gardens, which is a former plantation and one of the properties that JJ Ward owned. Between conversations and actually being on a plantation, I am compelled to not only talk about plantations and address the debate about the use of the word head on. 

In the days leading up to my arrival here, I was asked by several friends why would I want to be here, and more importantly sleep here. I was also asked if I was scared to be here. This is my third visit and second time staying on the plantation. When I first came on the grounds, I was drawn to be here and feel a connection to this place and land that I don’t feel anywhere else. Yes, I am connected to Hilton Head Island through my ancestor and Civil War US Colored Troop Soldier, Caesar Ravenel, who was on Hilton Head, however, he was born on the Black River, and intersects with the Pee Dee River, which sort of sandwiches the plantation in between the two.  Am I afraid? No. I’m more concerned about crazy living people in the woods that surround the land, than anything else. However, I also have slept better here over the past few days, as I believe that there are plenty of ancestors around to protect me. 

Lately, several conversations about plantations have been popping up and drawing me into wanting to talk about what they really are and what they really mean to descendants. Of course, there are descendants who are not interested in stepping foot on a plantation, because the pain is so deep. I get that. Really, I do. 

For generations, elders refused to speak of the past as a result of that trauma. But no one, Black, White or other will heal if we continue to ignore the past or at least start the conversation about it.  

Plantations visually tend to be strikingly beautiful places that also embody and represent violence, pain and suffering. Period. Full stop. They may contain beautiful grounds and gardens now, but why would someone want to get married here?  Wherever plantations exist, they should be educational opportunities where people get a full understanding of the amount and reason that there is blood in the soil, not places where one comes to celebrate or party.
Ironically, while here, a Facebook post popped up asking for people to vote for Brookgreen Gardens as one of the USA Today Top 10 Botanical Gardens in the US. To me, that hurts, because that is their focus and economic foundation, instead of the slave story that they should be identified as, remembered for and known for. A plantation is where someone’s ancestors, who were captured, tortured and ripped from their family labored under the control of someone else. Changing the focus to anything else, in my opinion is disrespectful.  

For some, like me, plantations are the only connection to our ancestors, and in most cases, that’s when you’re lucky. The average descendant might not even get far. enough to know a location.  

I’m sure that some plantations have some records, which they should be compelled to share. Any scrap of documentation, for a descendent that does not know their ancestorial story, that is a treasured gift that should be given to the world. And they should want to be a resource for families, instead of focusing on light shows. I can’t say how frustrating and turned off i have been when I have gone to a plantation that glamorized the life and wealth of the enslavers and minimized the contributions of those whose blood, sweat and tears contributed to that wealth. Again, that hurts. 

The debate over the word and the use of the word has been going on, at least on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina for the past couple of years, The island consists of several gated communities that have been named plantations for generations. Right after COVID, conversations began around removing the word plantation from all of the gated communities. While I appreciate the good-natured support of people, mostly white, who are in support of it, I understand why they feel that way, however, I feel that their rational is superficial, and will only ultimately reinforce the erasure of Black History. That’s why I totally disagree with the word being removed from the name. If the names are removed, then the land in most cases, becomes for eternity, just another plot of land that someone lives or shops. 

On Hilton Head, and in a lot of places in the south, the land was actually a plantation. And for that reason, I believe it should forever be identified as such. Leaving the word should come with educational opportunities and respect. Now, so that I am clear, that’s only IF the land was actually a plantation. Places with names like Plantation Commons or Plantation whatever anywhere else, do not get a pass.  

The word has become the definition of southern hospitality and charm. That needs to stop. It is exactly what it is. That’s how little by little the word is evolving and the use of it is becoming watered down. In a time where the slavery story and Black History is being suppressed daily, to me, this is one of those things that should always be called exactly what it is. A plantation. That way I and other descendants, if they chose, can go and respect those who sacrificed and persevered, so that we can recognize and acknowledge all that they experienced. 

The following pictures and videos are from my trip.

April 2024 – Fambul Tik (Family Ties)

A phrase from the Krio language, which is the local ‘lingua franca’ of Sierra Leone.

So, I don’t know if it’s the season or what, but for one reason or another, I’ve had family trees and DNA swirling around my head lately. 

Of course, family is incredibly important, for a lot of reasons – from family relationships, to stability within your primary inner circle, and all the way back through the generations, back to each of the  ancestors who made us who we really are.

It’s those ancestral connections that have been tugging at me of late. All of those generations that came way before me. The ones that are so very deep into the roots of my fambul tik / family tree that determined so much of who I am and why I look the way that I do. They are the ones who chose not just to stay wherever they were, but even more important than that, they chose to fight to survive and thrive so that I can be here today. 

Family trees can tell you so much. When you fill in all of those informational gaps that we all have,  for some of us, it leads to lifelong answers to the questions about what our identity really is at our core. 

What’s a shame is, is that for most Gullah Geechee, Black or African American people, it’s a page with a tree that, unfortunately and eventually, for some people, it will never become a full tree; it will always have gapping blank spaces sprinkled around it. The void was created by the institution of slavery, which as a result, stripped away so much for so many people. It created more than 400 years of lasting effects upon not only our ancestors who have left this earth, but also to countless generations that lead to most of us who are here today. The void is vast and the information is so limited. Many descendants may never know their complete family tree, about their origins or true heritage.   

Things are better now, well maybe just a little bit. Today, in what I call the Ancestry.com world, DNA research has been a real game changer in a lot of areas.  However, I think that I will always have a degree of pessimism. I hope that I’m wrong, but I feel that our African genetic puzzle will and cannot ever be completed. Yes, over time, we / I will know more, but as with all things, along with curiosity,  the more I know, the more that I want to know even more! 

From the very beginning of Lowcountry Gullah, I’ve shared that I am on a journey of discovery. I’m in search of my fambul tik and am willing to share it with you. From when I started 20 odd years ago until now, I’ve come a mighty long way, but I am far from being finished. And you can too. If you have the nagging desire to start your own journey, I definitely encourage you to start. I do want to prepare you, however. It’s time consuming, it can be extremely frustrating and everyone will not be successful. Dates, locations and names are all very important. So are stories. They are the golden nuggets that will make your tree come to life, in addition to the fabulous peek behind the curtain of time. But, whatever you are able to find, I promise, it will amaze you; wherever your family tree and genetic path takes you, be prepared for the expansion of your being, your world and all of the links in your chain that make you, well, you. That’s a familial connection that will ground you like no other one can. And that is truly a gift. For you and for generations to come.   

This month’s newsletter is definitely a keeper. Not only can you see the information that I have picked up along the way, but everything that you need to start or further your search is right here. (FYI check out the page – Who Are you Really? for tips on how to start your family tree. )

Happy hunting!

Just to get to you and your generation, it took 1,042,176 grandparents! That’s a huge number! Now think of it in terms of slavery and their desire to survive, just so that I could be here. In my mind, that thought just magnified significantly!

When discovering who is in your family tree, start with those who are in the immediate family and go back from there.

Based on the wonderful technology that comes from DNA research, this is my genetic make-up. As you can see, I am almost 50% Nigerian with some Irish mixed in.    FYI – Most Black/African American descendants of enslaved people have some European lineage within their DNA.

Of course, my Gullah Geechee roots also come out through the data!

By combining different DNA tests and companies, I was able to take the research a step further and identify all of the African tribes that I descend from. It makes sense that the mostly Nigerian based Yoruba tribe is the one that dominates within my line, followed by the Akan and the Eson tribes. The Akan are known for a lot of the African symbols that we are familiar with like the sankofa (which is my favorite!)