By Mendy Hendricks
Archaeological studies have confirmed what many residents never hear about: Parris Island contains several historic African-American cemeteries, with an estimated 1,400 to 1,600 individuals buried there. One documented site, formally recorded as 38BU1895B, alone holds around 200 graves and appears on maps dating back to the early 20th century. These burials span centuries, from the early 1700s through the 1930s, encompassing both enslaved people and their descendants who lived as part of the Gullah Geechee community.
And yet, very few people know these cemeteries exist. They are rarely discussed publicly, rarely acknowledged in tourist brochures, and often overshadowed by the Marine Corps’ modern presence on the island. For many outside the world of archaeology or cultural preservation, the knowledge that entire burial fields lie beneath the soil of Parris Island would come as a complete surprise.
That silence reflects a broader pattern across Beaufort County. Too often, historic sites tied to African American life and Gullah heritage have been neglected, hidden, or absorbed by development. Wealthy buyers and powerful developers secure the most valuable properties — even those containing ruins, cemeteries, or traces of early settlement. Instead of being preserved as cultural resources or made accessible for education, these spaces are fenced off, tucked behind gates, and used to generate private profit.
The result is a double loss. On one hand, the community is cut off from places that could serve as powerful learning environments for children and as public memorials to lives and cultures that shaped the Lowcountry. On the other, the same circles of influence that prioritize profit over preservation often reinforce the very cycles of excess — alcohol-fueled culture, a lack of accountability, strain on hospitals and public systems — that cost Beaufort so much in hidden ways.
To know that more than a thousand African Americans lie buried in cemeteries on Parris Island, unmarked and largely unvisited, is to face a truth: history here is not just layered, but selectively remembered. The oaks and waters of Beaufort tell one story; the burial fields, still beneath them, tell another.
