[If it’s August,
it must be time for my
annual pilgrimage to my Virginia homeland with my boys—and my annual
series AmericanStudying the Old
Dominion. Leading up to a special weekend post on the people who really
signify “Virginia” to me!]
On an inspiring
attempt to right a historic wrong, and its limits and possibilities.
Mr.
Jefferson’s University was largely built, and for its first half-century
largely maintained and run, by slaves. As illustrated by the topic of yesterday’s
post, that’s far from the only, nor even necessarily the most telling, such contradiction
and hypocrisy in Jefferson’s life, work, and identity, and those of the
nation he helped found. Yet it’s a particularly glaring example, not only
because this beacon
of educational progress (the nation’s first secular institution of higher
education and one of the accompishments Jefferson was most proud of) was
constructed by enslaved labor, but also and even more tellingly because that
history was swept under the rug so fully and for so, so long. It was only very
recently that some UVa
tours began addressing slavery at all, and I would argue that it’s still
entirely possible to visit the grounds, indeed to spend multiple days at the
university, and encounter no sign whatsoever of those dark, complex, vital
histories.
That sad fact is
less true now than at any prior point in the university’s history, however, and
that’s due entirely to the newly commemorated African
American burial site and accompanying memorial. Dedicated as part of the
fall 2014 national symposium “Universities Confronting
the Legacy of Slavery,” this memorial highlights an actual but long
forgotten burial site for African American laborers (likely both enslaved and
free), one located adjacent to yet tellingly apart from the existing University
of Virginia Cemetery. Accidentally discovered in 2012 as part of an
archaeological survey, the burial site contains 67 unmarked grave shafts; only
a tiny percentage of the African Americans who worked and lived at, and
contributed immeasurably to, the university, of course, but a representative
community and space to be sure. I can think of few images more potent nor more
pitch-perfect than those accompanying this
article on the memorial’s dedication—all those lamps, each located over and
representing one of the graves, each shedding its light on these people and
histories far too long left in the dark.
Those lamps aren’t
permanent parts of the memorial and site, though—and while I certainly
understand the practicalities of that choice, the truth is that the site is (to
this observer at least) a bit too understated and thus easy to miss as a
result. As of my June visit, at least, it’s simply a fenced-in grassy area next
to the main cemetery; there is a clear and compelling placard near the entrance
that communicates the relevant histories and details, but again I can see
visitors easily overlooking the space or missing entirely what it includes and symbolizes.
Since the graves were unmarked, it’d be impossible to provide identifying
headstones or the like; and it’s my understanding that there are concerns about
destroying or damaging the graves, which I get as well. But nonetheless, I
believe something more is needed—more around the grounds of the university, highlighting
this new site and pointing visitors in its direction; more at the site itself, to
pay tribute at least to those 67 people and their forgotten stories; and
perhaps, to echo my points on the Slavery at Monticello app in yesterday’s
post, more in the way of highlighting and sharing the burial site’s histories
digitally. The site is a wonderful and vital addition to the university, but
there’s more to be done!
Next Virginia
connection tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think?
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