Author’s Note + Disclaimer:

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Near the end of my senior year of undergrad, I accompanied my mother, Dorothy, and uncle, Abdean Jr, back to our homeland, Blakely, Georgia, to bury the ashes of my dear aunt, Peedy. Feeling especially moved by my brief time there and in our family cemetery, I wrote this poem or narrative as a reflection. During our drive there from Tallahassee, I learned a lot about our family, and got to hear some stories from my family’s childhood. As enlightening as it was, it was heavy with racial undertones. Many of their stories were rich with racist experiences as they sought to live normally.

Oddly enough, Southern Georgia is a direct reflection of that. Traveling across those state lines felt like I had just gone through a time portal. Suddenly, I had to drive slower, sit up straight, and act right. It was an eerie feeling. In this poem, I talk about getting closer to my “love” (Blakely), an indicator of that is the king (cotton), and how it felt. Unfortunately, for me as a Black American (whose ancestry traces back to the early 1700s), it made me feel a way.

As you read this piece, I ask that you be courteous and regard my perspective as not only my own, but as a reflection of my time in my home. I do not wish to make anyone uncomfortable, but unfortunately, American history is far from comfortable. I ask that you cite me for anything you find here.

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Synopsis:

A reflective poem about burying my aunt alongside her brother and sister, my mother and uncle. My experience back in Blakely, GA, and how it feels like I’m back in the Jim Crow era of American History.

Thank you and enjoy!

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