Stitching Stories: Reclaiming Our Environmental Heritage

Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming the African American Environmental Heritage, Dianne D. Glave

Hi, my name is Madelyn Collins! I’m part of the Black Girl Environmentalist (BGE) HUB program. I proudly co-lead the Knoxville Hub with fellow environmentalist Wesleigh Wright. I’m excited to announce a new series I’m sharing on the BGE Blog called Stitching Stories. This series will be a unique approach to book reviews that blends books with real-life stories and actions.

To kick it off, I wanted to start with a book that has quite frankly changed my relationship to the work that I do and my identity as an environmentalist. Dianne D. Glave’s Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming The African American Environmental Heritage, is a transformative narrative that will leave one’s mind entangled and whirling with history, possibilities, and dreams. Filled with primary sources and creative re-renderings of Black American experiences from the ocean to the forests and in the gardens, Glave’s clear love and adoration of African American histories and futures in environment weaves together a compelling call to action from beginning to end: Reclaim!

Rooted to the Earth begins with a quote by Thomas Monroe Campbell, one of the many key historical figures living within the book’s binding. In this quote, Campbell is recounting his experience on selecting classes at Tuskegee Institute, the first institution of higher learning for African Americans that was founded by Booker T. Washington. He recounted,

“He inquired if I did not want to take farming, I told him promptly that I had worked enough on a farm and did not care to learn anything more about it. He then asked me if I would like to take agriculture. I said that I thought I would like that very well. So he assigned me to the livestock division. Imagine my surprise when I learned that agriculture was farming.”

Glave expands this quote’s impact by writing, “Stereotypes persist that African Americans are physically and spiritually detached from the environment. This wrong headed notion is so ingrained in our culture that many have begun to believe it ourselves. But nothing could be less true. From ancient Africa to the modern-day United States, people of African descent have continued the legacy of their relationship with the land.”

From here, Glave starts off with one of the biggest sources of detached narratives in her first chapter titled, “The Atlantic Ocean: Currents of Life and Death”.

When I first read this chapter’s title, I assumed the first page would be traumatic. I mentally prepared myself for visual imagery of Africans drowning at sea as I continued the book. But to my surprise, Glave didn’t lead with that dominant narrative. Readers were not thrown into the depths of the transatlantic slave trade, but instead eased into the waves of imagination. Setting the scene for how this book would be written, Glave introduces us to the fictional character Zeus. Zeus is a young enslaved Black boy who toils away on a ship. We learn that Zeus grew up attending to every whim and need of the captain and at the same time is steadily learning important seafaring skills. He’s constantly daydreaming of having his own vessel one day, a dream that keeps him fueled as he works to purchase his future freedom. Zeus’s relationship with water is a multifaceted one, one that leaves room for his love of sea adventures. Enslavement is not the plot of this story, it’s his dreams.

With the flip of a page, Glave transports the readers out of the imagined and into the archived. Zeus’s life at sea is not just a fictional short story, but a reflection of the real narratives of being Black at sea.

Que in Nancy Prince. Glave alchemies to life the story of Nancy, a Black woman in history who was raised by a family of sailors. Battling the high seas, she ventured to strange and far places. From Russia to Jamaica, she felt at home in the choppy waters of the ocean. In addition to her comfortability and knowledge of seafaring, she is also known for foiling a deceptive plan to trick Black ship passengers onto a false course set for slavers. The tides didn’t drag her down, she rode them.

Navigate to the next page and readers are introduced to Abubakari II, the fourteenth century ruler of Mali. Abubakari argued the world was round, a stark contrast to many of the European scientists and philosophers at the time who argued the world was flat. Abubarki stood on business by sending a fleet to cross the Atlantic and then taking a journey himself. The oceans didn’t scare him, he explored them.

Enter stage left, Olaudah Equiano. A West African man who was kidnapped, sold, and forced into the Middle Passage. During his time enslaved he gained invaluable maritime skills and was able to stay a seaman on ships. He recounts many interesting tales on the water, including witnessing the marriage practices of interracial couples seeking safe passage at sea. Weddings between free Blacks and whites on land were illegal and often punishable by death. The waves didn’t push him, he embraced them.

As Glave depicted these various Black historical figures of the sea, my perception of what the ocean meant to me began to culturally shift. The seams that held together so tightly the meaning of swimming while Black began to loosen a bit. It allowed me to unseam and double thread a more expansive narrative: Water can mean more to me. Glave seemed to harmonize with my thoughts at the end of chapter as she commented on the avoidant relationship that Black communities have with water, “This is a shame, since nature, including swimming in our oceans and lakes, feeds the soul.”

As I continued the book to its ends, I found the way Glave quilts together creative short stories with the wisdom, anecdotes, and experiences of Black environmentalists, naturalists, and knowers of the past left me with the same feeling every time-- with a renewed sense of curiosity for my environment. A curiosity so strong, when I finished the book I decided to do what the title of the book says and reclaim my heritage.

In September, BGE Knox Hub led a “Read and Reclaim” event with The Bottom, a local Black-owned bookstore and community center. Like Glave’s process, I imagined what reclamation looked like to me as a Black environmentalist in Knoxville. The story that came to my mind was uncovering an untold history of my family’s stomping grounds, like an archaeologist that just stumbled across the fossils of a lost civilization. Stitching this dream into real-life, I sought out a person who was living this narrative and that person is Mr. George Kemp. Mr. Kemp is a local trailblazer in Knoxville who does the incredibly dire work of preserving slave cemeteries. Odd Fellows Cemetery and Good Citizens Cemetery (also known as Citizens Cemetery or Eastport Cemetery) are two slave cemeteries that Knoxville ReAnimation Coalition, the organization he presides over, preserves. Odd Fellows Cemetery is one of the first and largest historically African American burial grounds in Tennessee that has restoration efforts dating back to 2009.

However the cemetery that BGE Knox Hub chose to assist was Citizens Cemetery, a more recent preservation project that began in 2020 and happened to be minutes away from the neighborhood my family grew up in.

Good Citizens Cemetery

Our small group for the event came with one intention in mind, stitching Glave’s words with the real-life work of environmental reclamation. Throughout the experience, Mr. Kemp gave us a perspective of slave cemeteries that I don’t think is often said. His approach to the grave was not one of sadness and anger, but one of reverence and joy. As Mr. Kemp chatted with our group, I felt a similar shift happen like when I was reading Glave’s book. The dominant narrative of slave cemeteries is frequently painted in one-dimension, a grim reminder of our dark history in America. But Mr. Kemp’s narrative was different, it is a reminder of responsibilities to our kin and community.

BGE Knox Hub participants pictured with Mr. Kemp

As we stood amongst the faded and old grave markers of the cemetery, time slowed down as the chirps of birds amplified. Mr. Kemp, with a calm and unwavering smile, explained his connection to the cemetery. About two feet from his feet sat the grave of his ancestor. In the 1840s, Good Citizens Cemetery was established as a burial place for enslaved and freed people. To be buried in this grave meant your family agreed to upkeep their plot. But as time passed, Black residents of Knoxville had to move or flee for many reasons or some family lines just died out. The once upkept cemetery fell into disarray for many years and generations. Mr. Kemp shared he has memories as a child passing this plot, never realizing this dense section of forest was filled with the bodies and tombs of enslaved and freedmen, and that the land also carried the bodies of his own. So Mr. Kemp did what he felt called to do, take care of his family’s plot.

Work that he now dedicates his retirement to, BGE Knox Hub joined him in the sweat breaking labor of preservation. Using tools and our hands, we contributed to the work of pulling invasives from the ground. Tangibly reclaiming our heritage and the forgotten histories of Knoxville’s Black community. As we buzzed with collective energy, I quietly wondered and mused about the people here. Mr. Kemp told us about a few historical figures buried, from the first Black woman to receive her freedom in Knox County to one of the first African Americans killed in the race riots of 1919. My mind wondered further as my fist pulled at a pile of English ivy, are my ancestors buried here?

Glave’s book enters into my psyche like a lightning strike. The way Glave’s words traveled through the beautiful and sometimes haunting stories of African American environmental experiences in her book demonstrates the exact opposite of “detached from the environment”. Our stories lay hidden within our environment and Glave did an excellent job challenging her readers to question-- what is left to be discovered? And just like how lightning exits the body, Glave’s words threaded into the fibers of my muscles as I reclaimed my environmental heritage one stem at a time.

BGE Knox Hub encourages readers to support Knoxville’s local and Black-owned bookstore, The Bottom. Please consider ordering a copy online through their online storefront at: https://bookshop.org/shop/thebottom.

Remembrance #2: Ancestral food

As we gather around the dinner table, tonight and every night, we encourage you to reflect on the connection you share with your food. Consider its origins and the sacrifices made for it to grace your table.

In the continuation of our Remembrance series, the spotlight is on ancestral foods. These foods predate colonization, and have embarked on transoceanic journeys intertwined with the strands of our ancestors' hair. These foods were meticulously handpicked, carefully hidden, stowed away, and sown with the purpose of nurturing the future. They represent living legacies spanning thousands of years and still remain resilient through our changing climate.

Special thanks to all of the writers and thinkers whose works served as resources for this thread:

Abena Offeh-Gyimah (@livingtheancestralway), her writing and her episode on @for.the.wild podcast

An Afro-Indigenous Approach to Agriculture and Food Security, by farmer and food justice activist Leah Penniman (@leahpenniman)

Seeds of Memory: Botanical Legacies of the African Diaspora by Judith Carney

Remembrance & Internal Landscape

Can plants enable time travel?

I did not grow up living close to the land. However, my childhood memories in suburban Arizona were still colored with plant life; oleander, peacock flower, and bougainvillea. On my way to school, I would carefully examine every seed pod and flower bud, absentmindedly plucking small leaves from palo verde branches. I couldn't recall any of these memories until I was in my late twenties. 

My teenage years and early adulthood were tumultuous. Enduring prolonged trauma gave rise to a state of anxious indifference. Mentally exhausted in Los Angeles, I began to take daily walks alone. As I started to slow down and run my hands along spiky palmate leaves and flowering aloes my tactile memories returned. I spent nearly twenty years without noticing them but, in my dazed meandering, I caught the scent of oleander again. I recalled the bushes with soft white flowers that lined the wall near our mailbox and the sticky (&toxic!) sap that coated my hands when I picked them. As I continued my walks, my youth and early curiosity about the world gradually came into sharp focus. My subconscious finally opened the doors I once believed were locked.

Noticing is a net for catching magic. *

Nerium oleander is a plant native to Europe and Asia

Plants are portals and when we tune into the subtleties of nature we are granted access to our shared internal landscape. These contemplative moments can connect us to our personal history and gently lift the thin belief that we are separate from each other. 

In our ‘Remembrance’ series, we will use personal reflection and historical exploration as a way to forge connection with nature. In our first installment, we explore plants that played a significant role in the physical and spiritual survival of those who endured chattel slavery. 

Enslaved Africans had to create space for themselves on unfamiliar land. They adapted to North America by using plants as a means of resistance and agency. Doorway gardens kept by the enslaved, known as ‘conucos’ in Cuba and ‘coivaras’ in Brazil, allowed them to commune with the land for food, medicine and ritual. 

*this incredible phrase was written by @sensitivesensualist