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Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute: Honoring the Enslaved at William & Mary

Omiyẹmi (Artisia) Green speaks during the Ancestral Remembrance Tribute at Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved.

Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute: Honoring the Enslaved at William & Mary

Published February 16, 2026

By Omiyẹmi (Artisia) Green, Professor of Theatre and Africana Studies, University Professor of Teaching Excellence, Provost Faculty Fellow

On W&M’s 333rd Charter Day, to say that my heart swelled as I watched community members make their way to the Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved would be an understatement. Still, it is the closest language I have for the immense pride and quiet fulfillment I felt witnessing people arrive bundled and layered against the cold (I had on three layers myself), carrying flowers, instruments, and hearts full of tribute for those enslaved by the Alma Mater of the Nation.

Over the past academic year, I have been intentionally building an archival box of my work and achievements at William & Mary, which I plan to submit to Special Collections upon the completion of my tenure. This impulse emerged while editing my Tack Lecture on “A History of African American Theatre and Black Theater at William & Mary Theatre.” Having spent so much time in Swem Library tracking documents and conducting oral history interviews, I became acutely aware of how the presence and absence of material shapes institutional records and future perspectives. People will remember, say, and write what they will. I wanted, however, to exercise a measure of agency over my own record. Thus, my archival box will stand as my voice.

It is in that spirit that I offer this reflection.

The Humble Beginnings (2024)

What is now the “Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute” began humbly and sacredly in 2024, on February 9th at 6 a.m., with just me and my Ibeji, Iya Ifasola Osunponmile, offering libation and prayers. The ceremony was born from my own pain and from a growing awareness of what felt like a concerted period of pressure on Black women in higher education. We were resigning due to bullying, becoming ill or dying under the weight of stress, navigating toxic work environments and racial weathering, and, in some cases, confronting stories of self-harm.

My Ibeji, another Black woman not in the academy but deeply attuned to my realities, stood with me in what was an intentional intervention, first for myself, and then for others navigating similar conditions across higher education.

It felt right to bring this act of care to a public ancestral altar, and the Hearth offered that possibility. Holding our gathering on Charter Day, while inviting peers at other institutions to gather simultaneously wherever they felt led, resonated deeply. It braided past and present labor into a shared act of remembrance and created space for collective grief, reflection, and guidance.

Why the Hearth on Charter Day Matters

There was another reason gathering at the Hearth on February 6th mattered. As far as I knew, there were no signature Charter Day proceedings at William & Mary that centered on the humanity and contributions of those it once enslaved. I am not referring to the reading of a Land Acknowledgement or the Statement on Slavery and Its Legacies at another event, but to a dedicated and exclusive program. As an alumna and a current member of the faculty, that absence made this intervention all the more necessary.

William & Mary is known for many things, tradition among them. And traditions are not only inherited; they are made. As Alice Walker reminds us, “…we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” So, with the support of another culture bearer, I began an offering, one that is now entering institutional memory and, over time, I hope, will become part of how the university remembers itself.

Building on a Legacy

I came to this work of remembrance deeply informed by the cultural stewardship of William & Mary faculty, specifically Dr. Joanne M. Braxton. Her scholarship and vision through the Middle Passage Project, along with her leadership on the board of the Middle Passage Ceremonies and Port Markers Project, Inc., demonstrated how remembrance can be both scholarly and sacred, public and personal. The Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, which stands on this continuum of care, labor, and ethical attention, is part of a lineage of stewardship in honoring those who came before while creating space for future generations to remember, reflect, and act.

Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, February 2025

Institutional Support and Recognition (2025–2026)

In 2025, leadership within the Forum (formerly the Black Faculty and Staff Forum) helped expand the initiative into a ceremony of collective remembrance and pressed the idea of institutionalizing the tribute at the university level. The executive board believed that situating a collective offering at the Hearth, the university’s most visible and intentional site honoring the lives and labor of the enslaved, ensured that Charter Day celebrations would be grounded in historical truth and ethical reflection.

This year, the Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute gained further momentum and institutional support through sponsorship from The Lemon Project: A Journey of Reconciliation, under the leadership of Interim Robert Francis Engs Director Dr. Jajuan Johnson and Associate Director Dr. Sarah Thomas, with administrative coordination from Andrea Harris, Senior Associate Director of University Events in University Marketing.

William & Mary community members take part in the 3rd Annual Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, February 6, 2026.

Acknowledging Labor and Stewardship

Making visible the labor, seen and unseen, that sustained this ceremony is central to the work. The grounds for this year’s ceremony were made safe through the care of Jeffrey Harris, Mike Fowler, Dennis Doyle, Kareem Harding, Harrison Cherry, Trashawne Swittenberg, and Kyle Jenkins in Grounds & Gardens, who de-iced and salted the area in advance. Kristi Dodson, also in Grounds & Gardens, ensured I could retrieve my ceremonial flowers from my office and return to the Hearth in time for the ceremony to begin. Student employees in Facilities Management tended to the Hearth’s flame with intention.

Around the fire, stories of resistance were shared, including one powerful account from Dr. Hannah Rosen, program director of American Studies. Alumni serving on W&M leadership boards made space in already full Charter Day schedules to attend, and the College of Arts & Sciences Dean, Dr. Suzanne Raitt, also attended. One community member, en route to Murfreesboro, North Carolina, for the unveiling of the highway historical marker honoring Hannah Crafts (the pen name of Hannah Bond, an enslaved woman who escaped and authored The Bondwoman’s Narrative), participated in both the 7 a.m. and 1 p.m. ceremonies before continuing their journey.

Representatives from student organizations shared reflections at the 3rd Annual Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, February 6, 2026.

With the support of Monique Williams, Ed.S., Director of the Student Center for Inclusive Excellence, and Kristina James, Senior Event & Scheduling Specialist in Student Unions & Engagement, student leaders were involved as stewards of memory and placemaking. They, along with faculty in Theatre & Performance (Dr. Sarah Ashford Hart), English (Professor Hermine Pinson), Music (Professor Victor Haskins), History, and the programs of Africana Studies (Dr. Iyabo Osiapem), American Studies, and Gender, Sexuality & Women’s Studies, secured flowers and/or composed tributes and performances.

In 2025, the following Registered Student Organizations helped shape the ceremony’s early collective form: Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., Kappa Pi Chapter; Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc., Xi Theta Chapter; Minorities Against Climate Change; Students of Caribbean Ancestry; Student Assembly’s Committee for the Contextualization of Campus Landmarks & Iconography; and Emerald Elite Stomp n’ Shake. This foundation was carried forward and broadened in 2026, with continued participation from some of those same groups alongside new voices, including the Black Law Student Association, Black Poets Society, Black Student Organization, and the W&M Chapter of the NAACP.

Dr. Hermine Pinson read a poem at the Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, February 6, 2026.

Reflections and Hopes

Together, faculty, staff, students, alumni, and community members—across time—continue to build on the strength, contributions, and resilience of those enslaved by William & Mary, and we commit ourselves to honoring their humanity and legacy in our work. I close with three hopes for the future:

I hope that the Charter Day Ancestral Remembrance Tribute, in its growth and continuity, will stand as a living testament to the importance of labor that is both critical and often forgotten.
I hope that this collective act of cultural stewardship will endure not only as a reflection on the past but also as a signature placemaking event for future generations, “for all time coming.”
And lastly, I hope that it remains an event that reinforces our university’s value of belonging while reinvigorating us for the ongoing relational work ahead.

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Black Teachers and Workers at William & Mary

Published February 5, 2026

by Terry Meyers, Chancellor Professor of English, Emeritus

In recent months I’ve turned my research on slavery and race at William & Mary towards Jim Crow segregation. As a step towards that I’ve been skimming university publications from the early 20^th century on into the 1970’s, indexing them for references to race (indices for The Flat Hat, Colonial Echo, and the Alumni Gazette are available at the Lemon Project Research and Resources page).

Indexing is not always a stimulating undertaking, though I’m always stumbling across interesting tidbits about W&M. And in terms of race at the College (as it was called then), I’ve found some particularly interesting items.

The first is a short account of the earliest Black people to study in any formal way under the aegis of William & Mary. We have, of course, some accounts of enslaved and free African-Americans who picked up a modicum of education informally, from simply being around students and classrooms; see for example James Hambleton Christian who ultimately self-liberated after serving in the John Tyler White House but who at W&M “through the kindness of the students … picked up a trifling amount of book learning.”

I happened across a brief paragraph in The Flat Hat:

The colored classes of Williamsburg are a part of the William and Mary extension division. They are composed of colored teachers throughout the county [likely James City County] who have had training at Hampton Normal, Petersburg Normal or some other school but have not had an opportunity to attend college. There are about twenty enrolled in the class under the instruction of the English department of the college.
The Flat Hat, November 24, 1925

And that’s all I know so far. Sallie Marchello, then Register at W&M, undertook to review all the official records of the time, but found nothing, no record of the course, no title or subject, no instructor, no class list. Given as part of the extension courses W&M then offered around the region to people not enrolled at the College, the course was likely offered off campus, perhaps at a local Black school. It certainly was offered off the books.

Given the Jim Crow values of the time, offering the course at all was unusual. It seems unlikely that the English Department would offer it without permission from the President of the College and the Board of Visitors, but any evidence of that is yet to show up. I have found, however, that at least three members of the Board around that time were progressive, at least by the standards of the era, so the course might well have been sanctioned from above. See Wikipedia for more about the three: James H. Dillard (Rector of the Board of Visitors, 1919-1941), Kate Waller Barrett, and Mary-Cook Branch Munford.

My second find is three pictures in Colonial Echo yearbooks of Black workers at W&M in 1918, 1920, and 1921. The first shows Henry Billups and another man; the caption is appreciative:

The second shows seven men, again with an appreciative caption:

The caption under the third (below) is patronizing and even insulting, but it is at least a further and welcome acknowledgement of what over the decades and centuries has sustained the academic enterprise of students and faculty– the work of Black workers, hard, steady, and underpaid. In 1939, the President of the College raised the pay of the Black workers (not the white) in the dining room—he found it “difficult to understand” why they had stayed when they were so underpaid.

Other such acknowledgements have occurred, though rarely. Henry Billups, the Wren custodian and bell-ringer, worked at the College from 1888 to close to his death in 1955 and was much honored and appreciated. See the account by Trudier Harris at the LP site and this tribute in the 1926 Colonial Echo:

Malachi Gardiner, who worked for Benjamin Ewell through the closure of the College and its reopening in 1888 and then well into the 20^th century, is featured in the March 31,1938 issue of the Alumni Gazette. Alex Goddall, a long-time custodian, features in The Flat Hat three times (March 4, 1927. May 5, 1936, and March 2, 1937), in the Alumni Gazette (March 31, 1937), and even in a Richmond News-Leader piece (December 23, 1938).

More recently, the earliest issues of The William and Mary News, edited by Eleanor Anderson, an African-American (September 12, 1972), initiated features on members of the staff including early on Arthur Hill, successor to Henry Billups (September 12, 972); three housekeeping staff in Jones Hall (Gwendolyn Bell, Cornelia Williams, and Hattie Cox); Alton Wynn, supervisor for passenger vehicle transportation; and Fred Crawford, Chef at the President’s House (December 12, 19,1972).

In 2004, Ernestine Jackson, a food services worker popular with students, was recognized by a Virginia Senate resolution. On his retirement from the Wren Building, Bernard Bowman was featured in the Virginia Gazette (July 25, 2023). And most recently, Jesse Jenkins was saluted in the October 8, 2025 issue of The Flat Hat.

None of the people in the photographs below are named; Henry Billups is the man in the photo at lower left, and I believe the man on the left of the top right photo is Malachi Gardiner; I think one of the other men may be Lisbon Gerst, who laid all the brick walkways at the College (some he laid may still be seen near Hearth). The men in the top photo likely worked in the kitchen and dining hall (and some may have been among those whose salaries were raised in 1939).

I was tempted several decades ago into the then-taboo subject of W&M, slavery, and segregation though an encounter with a nefarious figure, Thomas Roderick Dew, W&M President, 1835-1846. I assumed he epitomized three centuries of thinking about African-Americans here: he was one of the most fervent and influential pro-slavery ideologues in the ante-bellum South. And at the height of Jim Crow, William & Mary honored his life and work in reinterring him in the Chapel crypt in 1939.

I assumed all of W&M’s history vis-a-vis race was ugly—and it surely is to a large extent. But what I’ve discovered is that it’s complicated. There are bright spots in our dimness. Unlike our fellow colleges in colonial times, W&M was touched by the European Enlightenment and was intellectually and in its teachings so emancipationist that most of its graduates were said in the early 19^th century to be abolitionists. Jefferson, for all his hypocrisies and contradictions, deepened his antipathy to slavery here as a student, and later encouraged W&M’s curricular skepticism about it. One of our enslaved, Winkfield, Superintendent of the Great Hall, was quoted as repudiating white supremacy. And with our affiliation to the Bray School, W&M was the first college or university in America to concern itself with Black education (limitations and qualifications apply).

And that complexity manifests itself in my indexing of Jim Crow-era publications at the university—lots of darkness, but spots of relative light, like the 1925 course offered to local Black teachers and like the intermittent recognition of the Black workers underpinning the life, studies, and teaching of other workers, students, and faculty.

I would guess that later users of my indices will see much the same.

Note: The contributions shared here represent the author’s views and historical interpretation; for further questions, contact the writer.

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The Lemon Project’s Summer 2024 Impact

The Lemon Project’s Summer 2024 Impact

Published August 28, 2024

By Jajuan S. Johnson, Ph.D.

The Lemon Project team and their community of supporters in Williamsburg and beyond hosted two dynamic summer programs—the Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series and the Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Summer Camp. Jajuan Johnson, the Lemon Project Mellon Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, and Highland’s fellow, Mariaelena DiBenigno, also concluded their appointments with the exhibition “Sharing Authority 2020-2024.” The exhibit showcases their practice with William & Mary students, faculty, staff, and descendant communities and offers a model of doing public history with multiple collaborators. These projects build on the Lemon Project’s mission to “build bridges between William & Mary and African American communities through research, programming, and supporting students, faculty, and staff.”

Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Camp

Nearly twenty middle school students participated in the 2024 Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Summer Camp. The team collaborated with the Robert Frederick Smith Explore Your Family History Center at the National Museum of African American History & Culture (NMAAHC). Ori Yarborough and Sterling Warren, Applied Public History Fellows at the NMAAHC, guided students in learning oral history best practices.

In addition to an immersion in local Black history at the W&M Libraries Special Collections Research Center, the learners conducted video interviews with Williamsburg community members Mary Lassiter, Colette Roots, and Johnette Gordon Weaver about their experiences of growing up in Williamsburg. The camp concluded at Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved with a celebration amongst family and friends for their two-day accomplishments. Jody Allen and Jajuan Johnson donned the program graduates with Kente stoles and commissioned them to seek historical facts on Black history and to share the knowledge.

Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series

The fourth Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series drew family historians from across the United States for the virtual meetings. Internationally recognized genealogist Nicka Sewell Smith kicked off the series with the presentation, “We Weren’t Taught How to Smile,” a story of a Black family from the Mississippi Delta who emerged from enslavement by the family of President Andrew Jackson and moved to the front lines of the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

Tasked with finding descendants of sixteen enslaved persons sold by the Trustees of Wake Forest Institute (now University), genealogist Renate Yarborough Sanders presented updates and breakthroughs on genealogical research tied to Wake Forest University’s Slavery, Race, and Memory Project. In “Finding Joseph’s Family: A Model Case of Using Reverse Genealogy to Piece Together a Family Puzzle,” Renate shared the steps that she took and the resources that she used to uncover the afterlife of one family line, bringing its legacy forward from slavery into the mid-twentieth century, one record at a time.

“Transforming Oral History into Documentation: The Early County Massacre,” with genealogist Orice Jenkins, is about history, memory, racial violence, and the process of finding the facts about a 1915 mass lynching in Early County, Georgia. Jenkins presented compelling research and guided attendees on the often tedious process of corroborating oral histories and interrogating historical documents, such as newspapers, court documents, and census reports.

The series was successful because participants were dedicated to honing family history research skills. You can view past genealogical workshops on the Lemon Project YouTube channel.

Sharing Authority at 5 Years: 2019-2024 Exhibition at the Sadler Center

As the Mellon Foundation-funded Sharing Authority to Remember and Re-Interpret the Past ended in July, postdoctoral fellows Mariaelena DiBenigno and Jajuan Johnson shared the grant’s ongoing work with the W&M community. Using the topics of teaching, scholarship, and community engagement, they designed and installed a temporary panel exhibit for the central part of the campus. In February 2024, the six-panel exhibit “Sharing Authority at 5 Years: 2019-2024” opened in W&M’s Sadler Center. It included community and university voices and took a future-forward approach. Though the grant cycle came to a close, the university and its partners continue to address the “legacies of slavery at research universities and historic sites.” As one of the partners, the Lemon Project appreciates the support of on- and off-campus supporters who ensured the success of the Mellon-funded initiative.

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A New Perspective: Researching Twentieth-Century Documents

Published June 5, 2024

By Sierra Manja, research intern to Dr. Jajuan Johnson, Lemon Project Mellon Foundation Postdoctoral Research Associate

What do you do when your archival research reaches a supposed dead end? This is a natural occurrence in the search for eighteenth-century names, families, neighborhoods, and homes of the enslaved. Getting burnt out doesn’t always require a complete break from your work. Instead, I believe, a redirection. A redirection calls for broadening the historical context towards a respective area of study. As a second-year student assistant at William & Mary Swem Libraries Special Collections Research Center, I have learned about the diversity within historic collections. With this, I have gained an appreciation for more diverse collections, such as the Bursar Records’ comprehensive chronology and oral histories, for their distinct subjectivity.

This semester, my research on early twentieth-century Bursar Records and oral histories has furthered our narratives of eighteenth-century individuals. Through Bursar Records, Dr. Johnson and I sought to construct a narrative of African Americans’ involvement on the William & Mary campus following Emancipation. In investigating the Office of the Bursar Records from the University Archives, I was to consider various factors highlighting the individuals involved in the given transaction. My attention narrowed to the ninth box of the collection, and my present findings are attributed to the twentieth folder. I first noted the payee; I considered their role within the university administration. Payment recipient(s) as individuals require the consideration of their name within African American tradition and our pre-existing narrative. Yet, most payments within individual folders were made to companies related to the University. I did not discard this and considered the possibility of the company’s history with African American employment or a strict lack thereof.

In our second week of research, I addressed a folder from 1903 [1]. I shifted through endless payments from the school to companies such as Standard Oil Company, C.W Antrim & Sons, J.B.C Spencer & Brothers, R.T Casey & Sons, and L.W Lane & Sons. R.L. Spencer signed these checks as the steward, and the president’s signature remained absent. Only one check included the president’s signature. This caught my attention as it appeared to indicate a change in transaction relations.

On March 6th, 1903, a check signed by the University president, Lyon G. Tyler, was addressed to the “washerwomen of College Hotel” [1]. The College Hotel was used as a dorm in 1860 and was renamed Ewell Hall in 1894 [2]. Ten women were listed, as well as their corresponding work and payment. Payments ranged from $3.75 for five bags and $8.25 for eleven bags. In total, the check amounted to $51.75. With the first and last names of the ten “washerwomen,” I began researching their lineage with Ancestry. My goal was to find associated names and place the “washerwomen” within the Williamsburg context. I looked for children, spouses, and neighbors. I sought out parents’ names, searching for any indication of transgenerational labor at the University. The possibility of this is demonstrated in Lucy Cheesmen, the fifth name listed on the Bursar check. Lucy Cheesmen washed eight badges and received $15 for her work. Lucy Cheesmen was born Lucy Burrell. The Burrell family is noted in the 1870 census as having the occupations of “farm laborer” and “keeping house” [3]. Lucy continued to maintain the university following emancipation at a low salary and with comparable tasks.

Moving chronologically in my research, I entered the latter half of the twentieth century with the James City County Oral History Collection [4]. The collection was highly organized, with indices listing the oral history participants and reported subjects, including “black/white relations,” “civil war,” and “Ewell.” The transcripts of the oral interviews began by listing the individual’s familial and professional history. This allowed one to note a family history of employment with the University. The interviews demonstrated the effects of a persistent racial divide in the Historic Triangle. When asked what the community’s most significant change has been since being there, Alleyne Blayton elaborated on the presence of black families on Duke of Gloucester. Blayton states that race has not changed, as “Williamsburg still has a long way to go in supplying equal opportunities for minority people.”

The twentieth-century material within early Bursar records and the late oral histories demonstrates how the African American community continued to contribute to the local makeup in the post-Emancipation period. The new perspective of twentieth-century documents allows the modern audience to better conceptualize the relative recentness of institutional oppression in Williamsburg. I felt more connected to the historical process of researching the twentieth century. I gained an increased sense of empathy in seeing the continued historical effects of enslavement at William & Mary.

[1] Office of the Bursar Records, Special Collections Research Center, Earl Gregg Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

[2] “Ewell Hall Dormitory.” n.d. Special Collections Knowledgebase. https://scrc-kb.libraries.wm.edu/ewell-hall-dormitory.

[3] 1870 United States Federal Census. Census Place: Bruton, York, Virginia; Roll: M593_1682; Page: 537B. https://www.ancestry.com/stories/public/connections?gender=female&firstname=Lucy&lastname=Cheesmen&birthlocation=Williamsburg,%20Virginia,%20USA&birthlocationid=24297&campaign=8b78cd49-faa2-40fe-8603-ce282d3013e1&matchfirstname=Lucille&matchlastname=Cheesman&matchdates=1906-1920&storyid=059366bf-8957-4358-85e5-c5d898db20b8

[4] James City County Oral History Collection, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

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Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act of 1924

Published May 8, 2024

By Monet Watson, Anthropology Graduate Assistant, 2023-2024

In the early twentieth century, Virginia was a hotbed of racial tension, and the state’s legislature enacted the Racial Integrity Act of 1924, a piece of legislation that left a profound and enduring impact on the racial landscape of Virginia. This blog post will delve into the history, intent, and consequences of the Racial Integrity Act, shedding light on a dark chapter in Virginia’s history. While introducing a particulate interesting segment of history that continues to muddle the understanding of race, even today. Rewriting racial categories makes it challenging to pinpoint individuals who are of interest to the Lemon Project or simply lived in an undefined category that was flattened and homogenized under sweeping rulings, such as the Racial Integrity Act of 1924.

The early twentieth century was marked by racial prejudice and discrimination in the United States. Virginia, like many other states, had a long history of racial inequality, dating back to the days of slavery and Jim Crow laws. The racial landscape of the state was further complicated by the so-called “one-drop rule,” which considered anyone with even a single drop of African ancestry to be a Black person. Virginia, however, was interested in preserving what it deemed to be “racial purity.”

The Racial Integrity Act of 1924

The Racial Integrity Act, passed by the Virginia General Assembly in 1924, sought to codify the state’s vision of racial purity and prevent interracial marriage. It had two primary components:

Racial Classification: The act classified Virginians into two categories – “White” and “Colored.” Individuals were required to identify themselves as one or the other, and any person with any trace of African or “colored” ancestry was to be classified as “Colored.”
Prohibition of Interracial Marriage: The act made it illegal for individuals to marry someone of a different race. Any interracial marriage that occurred outside of Virginia was also declared void within the state.

Impact and Consequences

The Racial Integrity Act had significant and long-lasting effects:

Perpetuating Racial Discrimination: By rigidly defining race and codifying racial segregation, the law reinforced the racial divisions and discrimination already present in Virginia.
Forced Racial Identification: The act placed the burden on individuals to classify themselves based on the state’s narrow definitions of race, often leading to complex and painful personal decisions.
Family Disruption: Families with diverse racial backgrounds were torn apart as they were forced to conform to the state’s definitions of race, causing heartache and separation.
Challenges to Personal Freedom: The act violated individual rights and autonomy by interfering in personal choices, including whom to marry.

Legacy and Repeal

The Racial Integrity Act of 1924 remained in place for nearly 50 years. In 1967, the U.S. Supreme Court case of Loving v. Virginia declared that all laws prohibiting interracial marriage were unconstitutional. This landmark decision effectively invalidated the Racial Integrity Act and marked a significant step forward in the fight against racial discrimination.

Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act of 1924 is a stark reminder of the commonwealth’s historical struggles with racial inequality and discrimination. The act’s impact on individuals, families, and communities was profound, and its legacy continues to be felt today. Understanding the history of such laws is essential in the ongoing pursuit of racial justice and equality, as we work to ensure that every individual is treated with respect and dignity, regardless of their racial background.

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Virginia’s History and Race-Based Slavery

Published April 10, 2024

By Monet Watson, Anthropology Graduate Assistant 2023-2024

The history of Virginia in the 1700s to 1900s is deeply intertwined with the complex concept of race. The state, one of the original thirteen American colonies, played a significant role in shaping the United States and its evolution in race relations is a microcosm of the broader national struggle. The concept of race, as we understand it today, did not exist in the same form during the early colonial period. Virginia’s first African enslaved people were brought to Jamestown in 1619. Slavery and the notion of racial difference became increasingly intertwined as the economic system of the colonies grew. The 1700s marked the codification of slavery as a racially based institution, and a system of race-based discrimination began to take root.

Virginia’s economy heavily relied on agriculture, with tobacco as the dominant cash crop. The cultivation of tobacco was labor-intensive, leading to a high demand for enslaved labor. As a result, the institution of slavery in Virginia became firmly entrenched. The enslaved population, primarily of African descent, was subjected to grueling conditions and systemic oppression, which further emphasized racial divisions. This is the context in which William & Mary purchased a farm and grow tobacco in 1718, along with 17 people to work on the plantation. The institutionalized efforts to reinforce and legitimized slavery continued as time progressed.

Legislation and Legalization of Racism

Virginia’s lawmakers passed a series of laws in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that perpetuated racial divisions and solidified the status of African Americans as slaves. The infamous Virginia Slave Codes of 1705 reinforced the idea that being of African descent automatically meant one was enslaved for life. These laws also imposed harsh penalties for interracial relationships, marriages, and gatherings, further segregating the population along racial lines.

American Revolution and the Paradox of Liberty

The American Revolution introduced the idea of freedom and equality, but the reality for African Americans in Virginia was far from these ideals. Some enslaved individuals found hope in the revolutionary rhetoric, and some even fought in the war, but the post-Revolution period did not bring the desired liberation. Instead, the early nineteenth century saw stricter slave laws and regulations in Virginia, further deepening the racial divide.

Antebellum Period and the Growth of Racial Hierarchies

As the nineteenth century progressed, Virginia’s economy diversified, with more focus on industry and agriculture. The institution of slavery continued to thrive, and racial hierarchies became even more pronounced. Slaveholders and white elites held immense power, while African Americans faced oppression and limited rights.

Civil War and Emancipation

The American Civil War (1861-1865) had a profound impact on race relations in Virginia. While the Confederacy defended slavery as a fundamental institution, the Union Army’s presence and the Emancipation Proclamation (1863) marked significant steps towards the abolition of slavery. After the war, the 13th Amendment (1865) formally ended slavery in the United States, leading to the Emancipation of enslaved African Americans in Virginia and across the nation.

Reconstruction and Jim Crow Era

The period following the Civil War, known as Reconstruction, briefly offered African Americans greater political and civil rights. However, these gains were short-lived, as the rise of the Jim Crow era saw the reinstatement of racial segregation, discrimination, and violence. Virginia, like many other Southern states, implemented policies that disenfranchised African Americans and reinforced racial divisions.

The concept of race in Virginia during the 1700s to 1900s is a complicated, painful, and evolving story. It is a narrative of oppression, resistance, and transformation. While the historical struggles and injustices faced by African Americans in Virginia are undeniable, their resilience and determination have played a pivotal role in shaping the state’s present and future. The Lemon Project works towards reconciliation and to make public the history of African Americans at William & Mary. The legacy of this complicated history continues to influence discussions about race, equality, and justice in Virginia and the United States today. Understanding this history is essential in moving towards a more equitable and inclusive future.

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Celebrating Black History Month in the Archives

Celebrating Black History Month in the Archives

Published February 2, 2024

Dr. Jajuan Johnson and Sierra Manga, the Lemon Project intern for Spring 2024, are starting Black History Month at William & Mary Libraries’ Special Collections Research Center. They are making major findings on African Americans who worked at William & Mary in the early twentieth century.

For example, Dr. Johnson and Ms. Manga found an invoice to the college from Samuel Harris’s Dry Goods’ Store. Harris was a wealthy African American businessman who lived in Williamsburg in the late 1800s. His store remained open after the 1902 Virginia Constitutional Convention, which disenfranchised African Americans in the commonwealth. Harris died in 1904 and is buried at Cedar Grove Cemetery. We look forward to sharing more findings at the Lemon Project Genealogy Research Roundtable on February 15th at 6 pm.

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Undiscovering the Archive

Published November 8, 2023

By Shawna Alston, Summer 2022-2023 Charles Center Incubator Research Student

Archival research is a fully involved, tedious effort usually begun in an attempt to find something elusive or undiscovered. Deciding to embark on the journey of exploring university, local, or private archives requires a research question worth the effort, I asked myself, “what’s worth knowing, and more importantly, what’s so worth knowing that I should decide to tame the beast that is Special Collections under renovation and the Flat Hat digital archive?”

After discussions with Drs. Jody Allen, Sarah Thomas, and Robyn Schroder, I had first decided to reinvigorate the research I had done last summer with the Lemon Project and attempt to make new connections or discoveries. I spent seven weeks last summer connecting physical campus landmarks with their disembodied laborers, or, who built what; when, where, and why, and for how much? I focused solely on the time right before, during, and directly after the Great Depression, during which much of campus was erected. I found myself barely engaging with The Archives last summer, as most of my research existed in easily accessible, public domains. I was able to seamlessly pull a research project together with the literature provided by the Lemon Project and the financial records and campus maps I got from my one visit to Special Collections. My product, an interactive StoryMap, detailed my research and potential caveats for future research.

Before my exploration into the archive, I had settled on the research topic of Black performance culture on a campus where Black students had yet been granted permission to attend, meaning William & Mary’s campus before 1969, when the first Black undergraduate students in residence arrived. Simply put, think Chitlin Circuit meets William & Mary. I wanted to know who was asked to perform, why, and who was allowed to attend these performances. More broadly, I wanted to (see if I could) connect these performances and the culture surrounding them to the afterlife of minstrelsy and minstrel theater. On top of this, I was tasked with combing through the digital archive of William & Mary’s premier newspaper, The Flat Hat.

With this experience under my belt, I knew that my research journeys this summer would pose no real challenge. I had this idea that archival research is a lot like “book” research, or reading things, making inferences, and drawing conclusions. I was wrong, but not because I lacked work ethic or proper motivation, but because The Archive, or the collection of written record and evidence of existence, is a segregated institution.

With a goal in mind and a resource in hand, I began what I thought was going to be an easily curated research project. I set abstract time boundaries, from 1915 to 1945, and began perusing The Flat Hat for any evidence of a Black musical performer/performance group. Ask me what I found…no, go ahead…ask. Nothing. I spent about a week keyword searching The Flat Hat and combing through every released issue between the aforementioned dates. I found nothing. I scheduled an appointment with Special Collections and spent hours combing through boxes of old photographs, programs for on-campus productions, costume sketches, and student organization archived files; anything you could think of, I went through it. And yet, nothing. I spent the following weeks shifting the boundaries of my time period and repeating the process as the previous week. And still, I found nothing.

My research teammate, Fatoumata Sissoko, was responsible for combing through The Colonial Echo archives and everything I was looking for, she found. I had shifted my time period from 1915-1945 to 1960-1975, and Fata had found a well of information in a few snapshots in The Colonial Echo. Below is the list, in chronological order, of Black performers who visited the campus between 1960-1975:

1966

The Shirelles performed (70)

1967

Chuck Berry performed for Homecoming (21, and another page)

Mention of Dionne Warwick and the Four Tops insinuating they also visited and performed (21)

1968

The Drifters performed for Homecoming (41)

Wilson Pickett performed for Homecoming (41)

1970

Martha and the Vandellas perform for Homecoming concert (33)

The Impressions perform for the Spring Finals formal (39)

1974

Taj Mahal- musical artist (56)

Black culture week (103)

Guests include James Brown and African dance group (57)

1975

Sly Stone (188)

The Platters (208)

Jackson Five canceled because of low tickets sales (209)

George Macrae performed (209)

BSO pages (290)

This information was the most useful information I had discovered in all of my research endeavors, so my next goal was cross-referencing this information with anything I could find in The Flat Hat digital archive. I went through each of these respective years in The Flat Hat archive and tried to find even the slightest detail, like a time or place, or a review of the show. I found nothing. I cross-referenced and cross-referenced and cross-referenced and found…nothing. Nothing for big names like Dionne Warwick or James Brown or Chuck Berry. I looked and searched and looked and searched and the only thing I found were advertisements for Roses or alumni run beer companies.

This frustrated me to know end. If The Colonial Echo has proof that these things exist, why doesn’t The Flat Hat? Why doesn’t The Flat Hat have any proof of Black life beyond Duke Ellington coming to visit in 1959? I was faced with the discovery of undiscovery and what that says about the sociopolitical climate of campus at the time and how that was reflected in how history was recorded. I was faced with no findings as my findings. What I didn’t find says so much more than what I could’ve found.

A larger conversation about the institution of the Archive and its anti-Blackness and segregation is a conversation that I’m willing to have. Going forward, my plan is to engage critical scholarship on the anti-Blackness of recorded history, and more specifically, whose history gets to be recorded, and who gets to be remembered.

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Researching Rev. L.W. Wales, Jr.

Researching Rev. L.W. Wales, Jr.

Published September 27, 2023

by Olivia Blackshire, an Independent Study student with Dr. Jody Allen

When I started an independent study with Dr. Allen, I was not quite sure what to expect. I was familiar with research papers and searching databases; however, being on assignment for the serious inquiries of a family was a big deal. For the next 15 weeks, I spent time ̶ at the request of Ms. Wilhelmina White ̶ researching the life and times of the Wales family, specifically L.W. Wales, Jr. Both Rev. Wales, Sr., and Rev. Wales, Jr., were activists and leaders in this community, and surrounding their lives was an eagerness to know how they impacted the world around them. Filled with excitement and a responsibility to piece together the family’s story in Williamsburg, I began my research.

I found the story of Rev. Wales, Jr., by first reading about the man who set the foundation for his life, his father. L.W. Wales, Sr. (1860 – 1927) was not only a pastor at Mt. Ararat Baptist Church for 42 years, but was also a pillar of the community. As principal of Williamsburg Public School Number Two and a teacher in various counties, he was active in the educational realm and perhaps planted the seed for Bruton Heights School, an all-Black high school, since he talked about that and about plans for funding in his Brief Autobiographical Sketch.[1] He also published a leaflet called The Peninsula Churchman, which detailed his church work and school-building efforts. He rubbed elbows with lots of people, including Benjamin S. Ewell, a former Confederate general and former president of William & Mary.[2] Furthermore, L.W. Wales, Sr. was financially well off; tax records showed that he was one of the highest earners in his area[3], and he “succeeded in buying a considerable amount of real estate, holding and owning some in almost every section of the city of Williamsburg and some in Newport News.”[4]

Considering such a track record, L. W. Wales, Jr., (1895-19654) had big shoes to fill. Although his legacy was not like his father’s, he made an impact. Picking up the mantle as pastor after his father’s death in 1927, Rev. Wales, Jr. worked for Mt. Ararat for 36 years, doing much for the relocation and beautification of the church during his tenure.[5] According to the 1982 Mt. Ararat Baptist Church Centennial Anniversary Souvenir, Rev. Wales Jr., worked within schools alongside his wife, Evelyn Wales. A report by historian Linda H. Rowe describes him as an advocate for the construction of James City Training School, a predecessor of Bruton Heights School.[6] He too even made his mark in real estate, having enough property to create the Wales subdivision housing for low- and moderate-income families in the 1940s.[7]

There were a lot of memorable moments from this search. Anytime I’d find new information, especially an image, I always felt like I was discovering more pieces to the puzzle. I’m also grateful for the people I met along the way, like Sidney (a graduate student working with the Lemon Project), Earl T. Granger III (Colonial Williamsburg’s Chief Developmental Officer), and Clifford B. Fleet III (Colonial Williamsburg President and CEO) during a trip to the John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library.

Two significant thoughts come to mind as I reflect on my studies with Dr. Allen. For one, history is a form of detective work. Sometimes the whole thing feels like you’re trying to crack a cold case. You’re digging through information that’s been mistreated (physically in the archive or historically through erasure), and the clues you need are not always readily available. Interpreting or making connections with limited time or facts is a tall order. Yet those who take on the challenge may be the only ones preventing someone’s story from fading into obscurity.

I also found that if one works in this field, one must be flexible to change; sometimes the search doesn’t end the way you expect, and that’s okay. Although I didn’t find or get through as much as I wanted, I still managed to learn about the church’s history and the Wales’ place in it and the surrounding communities. You may not find what you’re looking for, but the process you take to get there, and the things you find along the way, are just as rewarding. Those quotes about the journey being better than the destination may have some merit after all.

[1] Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[2] Brief Autobiographical Sketch of the Life and Labors of Rev. L. W. Wales, D.D (1910) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[3] James City County and Williamsburg City Personal Property Books, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

[4] Brief Autobiographical Sketch of the Life and Labors of Rev. L. W. Wales, D.D (1910) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[5] Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[6] “A History of Black Education and Bruton Heights School, Williamsburg, Virginia” by Linda Rowe (1997). https://research.colonialwilliamsburg.org/DigitalLibrary/view/index.cfm?doc=ResearchReports%5CRR0373.xml&highlight=negro

[7] Williamsburg Reunion Booklet (2012) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

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My Semester with Dr. Allen: The Intrinsic Benefits of In-Depth Historical Research

Published September 6, 2023

by Nicholas Prather, Lemon Project Spring 2023 intern

Booker T. Washington. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2016857180/

Front Page Clipping of *The Flat Hat*, November 17, 1914 (Vol. IV, No. 7)

Over this past semester, I spent two to three hours each week working as a research intern with Lemon Project Director Dr. Jody Allen. During my experience, I learned about the inevitable bumps in the road that come with careful historical research. However, over the four months we spent together, I feel I also came to appreciate those roadblocks and understand their purpose when it comes to discovering something meaningful ̶ something that can change the scope of what we know. When we started working together in the first few weeks of the semester, we initially focused our research on the exploits of nineteenth-century Wiliam & Mary Chemistry Professor Dr. John Millington, specifically his alleged experimentation on Black children in the Williamsburg area through some sort of shock therapy. But, as we sifted through dozens of pages of old correspondence in the Special Collections Reading Room, not to mention pages of nearly incomprehensible cursive that needed deciphering, we learned that it may not be as feasible as we thought to come to any conclusions about Millington, given how much careful close reading it would require. But failure to get immediate results in research, albeit a regularity, is never really a failure – it’s an inherent and important part of the process. After spending a few non-fruitful weeks on Millington, we decided to start looking at the history of illustrious Black educator and speaker Booker T. Washington’s history and relationship with William & Mary. Using Special Collections’ digital archives, I uncovered two separate Flat Hat articles (it’s amazing when your school newspaper is so historic to where it can be a reliable primary source!) that described two separate visits Washington made to the College in 1913 and 1914, just before his death in 1915. Under the presidency of Lyon Gardiner Tyler, both students and faculty were let off from classes to witness Washington’s awesome speeches in the Williamsburg Chapel and Courthouse. After weeks spent devoid of results, it was quite fulfilling to learn that a figure so pivotal to race relations in Gilded Age America had a relationship with the William & Mary administration.

In the end, even though there is still far more that can be wrung out of the research into both Millington and Washington, my semester with Dr. Allen was still a uniquely enriching experience. The growth mindset necessary for productive research can be stunted when we expect to see immediate results. Careful and critical historical research requires patience, precision, and pathos, none of which can be expected mere days or weeks into the process. And when we start thinking of research as steps in an inherently beneficial process that tempers our character and critical thinking alike, regardless of “success” or “failure” (whatever that means), that is when we truly start to see the fruits of our labor manifest themselves in personal and intellectual growth.

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