<body><div><figure><img src="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?type=thumbnail_580x000&amp;url=27ja4t_0vuKouoK00" alt="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?url=27ja4t_0vuKouoK00" width="1920" height="1080" ><figcaption>During their first-ever reunion, African-American descendants of enslaved ironworkers at Catoctin Furnace begin to plan for the preservation of their ancestors once forgotten cemetery. </figcaption></figure> Earth, Wind and Fire could not have known that the 21st of September would find us here – a group of newfound kin navigating the Catoctin Mountain together, forging collective practices of remembering the turbulent histories calling them back to this site of enslavement. Still, the prophetic song seems tailored to this moment, Maurice White’s voice looping endlessly in my mind as I walked alongside descendants of enslaved Ironworkers at Catoctin Furnace. Love was changin’ the minds of pretenders / While chasin’ the clouds away Our hearts were ringin’ / In the key that our souls were singin’ After a <a href="https://blog.23andme.com/articles/23andme-connects-living-family-to-enslaved-african-american-from-historic-site" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> recent DNA study </a> matched them with genetic material excavated from a once forgotten African-American cemetery in the iron village near Frederick, Maryland, these families trickled in from across the country to visit the land where some of their ancestors may still rest. The weekend-long event, a family reunion of sorts, was the first of its kind centering <a href="https://www.reckon.news/black-joy/2024/07/our-legacy-is-the-living-preserving-the-history-of-the-catoctin-ironworkers.html" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> Black descendants of Catoctin’s ironworkers </a> since the cemetery was rediscovered in 1979. “I just want to find my ancestors who were separated due to slavery,” reunion attendee Delbra Brown told the Frederick News Post on Saturday. “It’s time consuming; it is tedious. You just have to have a passion for it.” Milling around the Museum of the Ironworker, descendants experienced a live blacksmithing demonstration, spoke with visiting African-American ironworker Clarence Jackson, toured structures in the iron village built by their enslaved ancestors, and looked through an active archaeological dig happening beneath a former ironworker dwelling. The 40,000 artifacts recovered from beneath this wooden cabin reflect what life might have been like for those working at the furnace – a handful of clay marbles, shoes and a cat skull are just some of the home life items that once fell through the cracks of the dwelling and into the soil. Clarence suggests some items may have been buried intentionally to protect the home and create a sacred space. Welcomed by the heat of a late September sun, small groups split off from the museum at the iron village center toward the interpretive trail. Trampled grasses turn to brambles beneath our feet as we enter the forest to pay a visit to long lost relatives’ burial sites. Shimmering oblong boulders once marked the graves, no doubt chosen for the way light danced over their crystalline surface. An old earthen road runs through the graveyard’s center, once shuttling horse-drawn carriages between the master’s mansions and slave quarters less than a mile away. This hallowed ground, just a few yards from a limestone quarry, was always loud and busy, even during the 18th century. Still, there was a quiet exchange of love between the living and the dead here. Even inside the panopticon of surveillance suffocating daily life on an iron plantation, our ancestors made room to care for each other, to honor the lives we lived. We made space sacred then, against all odds. We still do. While some headstones remain in their original placements at the heads and feet of unexcavated graves, many are gathered beneath a nearby oak tree, relocated by archeologists who excavated the 35 graves from the site decades ago. Though they didn’t keep these stones and may not have considered them artifacts, they did find it prudent to keep the remains in Smithsonian Museum storage. Now, little pink flags mark excavated gravesites, which president of Catoctin Furnace Historical Society, Dr. Elizabeth Comer, points out as we walk by. The sight stirs the spirit, especially for those who just discovered their connection to this cemetery on GED match, an online repository of DNA results from different testing companies. When the Catoctin DNA data was <a href="https://blog.23andme.com/articles/23andme-connects-living-family-to-enslaved-african-american-from-historic-site" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> collected and studied in partnership with 23andMe </a> , tens of thousands of possible matches were alerted. Of those, just a few dozen joined the reunion. Some bear significant relation and are likely direct descendants - like 87-year-old Agnes Jackson whose DNA is a remarkably complete match with the remains of a toddler buried near the edge of the cemetery. Others only share some chromosomal resemblance, possibly indicating a looser ethnic relation rather than a genealogical one. The science doesn’t differentiate, though some descendants do – pointing out that DNA results can be adjusted by the number of chromosomal matches to make it seem as though you are related to anyone. The question of what DNA actually proves in the case of ancestry, especially given <a href="https://www.reckon.news/black-joy/2024/06/is-blood-thicker-than-water-stories-on-black-kinship-and-legacy-in-frederick-county.html" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> the contours of Black kinship </a> , is hotly debated by geneticists. The latest forensic and DNA analysis technology still offers no easy answers, and testing companies like <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2024/09/23andme-dna-data-privacy-sale/680057/" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> 23andMe seem to be prioritizing profit over accuracy or privacy, to the dissatisfaction of users and board members alike. </a> Despite the differences in how descendants may think about family, they emerged from a meeting with the reunion organizers, a local group called the Friends of Catoctin Cemetery, in full consensus about the need to preserve the cemetery. Descendants shared concerns about the apparent sparse upkeep the cemetery receives, pointing out the overgrowth, lack of accessible pathways and placards, and how much work is left to do to honor this cemetery appropriately. To succeed, this project will need to braid together historical, spiritual and political disciplines. Archeologists have a history of being both finders and keepers, but the Catoctin Furnace Historical Society and the Friends both say they want this project to be different. They talk enthusiastically about the vision of a co-stewardship model led by descendants – those whose ancestors’ labor produced the enormous wealth and influence that shaped a young Maryland’s industrial might. They hope to work directly with Maryland’s Park Service to plan how this land will be kept and made accessible – starting with coming up with the $150,000 needed to buy it from current owners. Dr. Comer has been able to raise $50,000 with a philanthropic grant from France-Merrick in Baltimore but is struggling to get support from state programs that normally grant the CFHS. Since 1981, the historical society has received 108 grants totaling well over $3 million dollars. Despite budget appropriations for these kinds of preservation efforts, Dr. Comer says the <a href="https://africanamerican.maryland.gov/grantsprogram/" rel="noreferrer noopener nofollow" target="_blank"> Maryland African American Heritage Preservation Program </a> has denied her application for cemetery acquisition funding multiple times. She is determined to submit again. “It’s not like there’s no good cause,” Clarence laments, shaking his head. While the state’s reluctance to invest in this endangered African-American Cemetery seems unclear, it is evident that descendants are passionately committed to this effort, already working on planning the next reunion and making it more accessible to those who may have difficulty traveling – particularly families and the working poor. As I leave Frederick that evening, I weigh the possibility that one of the barriers to accessing this vital funding is the structural gap between the current cemetery preservation organizers and the newfound descendants. This divide has deepened in the last month after the resignation of Hess Stinson, the descendant coordinator charged with implementing a horizontal power structure between descendants and the rest of the 52 year-old Catoctin Furnace Historical Society, none of whom bear significant relation to the enslaved ironworkers at the furnace. As of yet, there are no descendants of the furnaces’ enslaved ironworkers on the board of the CFHS. During the concluding meeting, the Friends of Catoctin Cemetery board members seemed eager to try to resolve this division in their own burgeoning organization, moving immediately to nominate Barbara Hart, a significantly related descendant of the cemetery ironworkers, to join them as a representative of the descendants group. But of course, the power dynamic remains imbalanced. Can one handpicked board member represent the interests of the descendants among the other four who do not share kinship? Who will lead the work of ensuring that this group of descendants – strangers to each other – bond into a leaderful community strong enough to guide the long-term vision of Black spatial futures in Appalachian Maryland? What does it look like for a community of predominantly white historians to hold power with Black descendants of enslavement in their ongoing preservation efforts? Driving home, the road before me seems extraordinarily long, so I begin to sing. “Do you remember…” Earlier that weekend, as we stood inside a home that will soon house resident Catoctin Furnace Fellows, Clarence pointed out to Dr. Comer that transferring power is a form of reparations that doesn’t require redistributing cash and can still make a systemic impact. I’m left with the truth in his words, and with the hope this truth rings across the Catoctin Mountains, reverberating in every ear – “It’s not just about ‘Oh, who’s going to take my money that I pay my bills with?’ We don’t want that money! It’s about you know, what is it that you have that you can give?” </div></body>

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Saving sacred Black spaces in Appalachian Maryland

During their first-ever reunion, African-American descendants of enslaved ironworkers at Catoctin Furnace begin to plan for the preservation of their ancestors once forgotten cemetery.