In downtown Charleston, one can witness the past and the present interwoven. The sweet, salty scent of marshlands drifts off the coast and passes the old bricks. At the Historic Charleston Market, old women, skin as smooth and dark as mahogany, in wide brimmed hats, weave swift fingers through sweetgrass, creating cables to the past. One can hear colorful voices, rich with hints of old African dialects infused with hip hop jargon. Young boys make and sell palmetto roses–and couples, young and old, hold hands while walking toward the waterfront.

Charleston, SC is the top tourist destination in the United States. Known for its unique history, atmosphere, beautiful beaches and incredible food, it is not recognized as much for the people who made it thrive and who live there.
“It used to be all Black,” says Bill Saunders. “All this was Black owned. The epitome of Black business.” The community and Civil Rights activist and John’s Island native son gestures out of his car window as he drives downtown. In his deep voice, with a Geechee accent and grandfatherly tone, he acknowledges former black owned dry cleaners, restaurants, motels, law offices and taxicab stands. History. Culture. What was.
Hannibal’s Kitchen – Long time Charleston staple for Gullah Geechee Cuisine
Philip Simmons Playground in Mall Park – named after the famed Master Blacksmith, Philip Simmons. Simmons was from this EastSide neighborhood
The who and the what of Charleston are Gullah Geechee.
Gullah Geechee people are the descendants of enslaved West Africans brought to the coasts of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. Due to the geographic isolation of the plantations, the Africans and future generations were able to hold on to much of their African culture and traditions. The people were stolen from many

W. African Gullah Geechee Origins
different countries in West Africa. In order to communicate with each other amidst the various African dialects present on these southern plantations, the enslaved created a creole language—a combination of hundreds of African dialects with an English base. This language is known as Gullah Geechee.
And as Saunders says, Gullah is more than a language. It is a people. It’s tradition. It is food, religion, arts, crafts, folklore and storytelling, sweetgrass baskets, fishing.
Many people are unaware of who Gullah people are—their identity, culture and significance. And Gullah people are among the uninformed. These people whose voices, features, rhythms and traditions tie them to the heart of humanity have yet to tap into all that makes them unique and memorable.
What is required to find pride in one’s culture? Can it be preserved? Or is it too late to care?
Winema Sanders, College of Charleston senior, loves history and culture. Her mother is from Turks and Caicos and her father is from South Carolina. Born in Charleston, Sanders feels much pride for her island heritage. She recalls growing up in the church and listening to the older Gullah women tell stories—how the melodies of their voices captivated Sanders and her younger sisters.
“I think a Gullah or Geechee person is someone who speaks with the Geechee dialect. You know?” she says. “They know a lot about seafood and sweetgrass baskets. We’re normal people. We just talk a little different.”

In contrast, Saunders used to hate being called Gullah. “When I came from John’s Island in 1949 on a bus that Esau Jenkins put together for some of us to go to school, I suffered more mental and some physical stuff because of the hate that folk had for the way we talked.” Sixty-three years later, there is still a sadness in his voice.
Many older Gullah people remember a time when they were taught to be ashamed of their accents. Today, Sanders and other young people delight in the difference in their voices.
“People don’t understand their culture, their history,” says Sanders. “Their history. Embrace it. You won’t be able to know who you are or represent yourself otherwise. Maybe we should have Saturday schools to learn more [about our culture.] There are Gullah bibles and Gullah books. I think people want to be so proper. So they try to suppress the accent. The language.”
“My mother taught us about our heritage,” Sanders says. “She said, ‘You are Gullah people. This is where you’re from. This is your culture.’ She taught us about our West Indian culture, too.”
Sanders’ imitations of her mother bring to mind an older Island woman—articulate and proud. There is a faint hint of a West Indies and British in the accent.
“I mean, do you say panties or drawers?” Sanders laughs. “Me and my sisters say drawers, too! I’m like, ‘Mom, that’s how we talk.’ My mom is always like, ‘It’s panties! I tell you girls to say panties.’” Heavy emphasis on the “T”—sounds like Pawhn Tees.

Winema & parents ’12
Sanders is preparing to spend the week in DC for the Washington Model Organization of American States. She and other students are representing the delegation of Argentina as delegates and “discussing hemispheric policies to better improve the life of citizens in the western hemisphere.”
This is not the only time Sanders travels.
“Another time I was in DC, I’d always visit with the Haitian women,” Sanders says. “They’d be making baskets. That’s another connection to the Lowcountry, except they used lemongrass not sweetgrass.”
As documented in Sweetgrass Baskets and the Gullah Tradition by Joyce V. Coakley, the art of sweetgrass basket making was brought to the Lowcountry in the 17th century by enslaved West Africans. These captive artisans originally used black rush, a marsh grass, and bound it with thin splits of white oak or stems from the saw palmetto, weaving these tough materials into baskets
similar to those used in Africa. Once referred to as work baskets and used to winnow rice, carry dried goods and maintain slave villages as functional art, sweetgrass baskets now sell for hundreds of dollars and can be found decorating the homes of art collectors and tourists. The craft continues to be passed down in Gullah Geechee families. The use of sweetgrass as opposed to black rush, began in the 20th century.
Dr. J. Herman J. Blake fully acknowledges the significance of his culture. “For me, being Gullah makes me the recipient of the gift of history that connects me and my children with spirits long gone who labored hard to create this society,” he says. Blake, a professor of Health Professions and Dental Medicine at the Medical University of South Carolina, also works tirelessly to teach others and preserve the land and livelihood of Gullah people. He sees a dis-connect in the younger generation and believes that education is necessary to spread awareness for the culture.
“There is a very superficial and extremely limited understanding in the appreciation of the culture around them,” Blake says. “It is like a fish swimming in water, and the fish doesn’t know what water is. We’ve got to develop curriculums for elementary schools, secondary schools and, ultimately, colleges so that we are constantly educating and training our young people. Then young people as a part of their education would be getting the culture.”

Leaning forward in his leather computer chair, Blake recalls when Penn Center on St. Helena Island offered classes for standard English. “They believed people wouldn’t get jobs talking with what people called ‘broke-up English.’ I consider it very proper Gullah.”
Generations apart, both Blake and Sanders recognize a need to fill young people with excitement and pride for their heritage.
“We could have shirts, ya know?” Sanders suggests. “ Shirts that say Geechee Girl, Geechee Boy. Something hip and fashionable. I’m not into marketing or anything. But I know guys with `Geechee For Life’ tattooed across their chests.”
James Vickers is another young person aware of his culture. He and his girlfriend, Ameerah Mills are sitting in the Stern Student Center at College of Charleston. Mills has a laptop and opened notebooks scattered on the table in front of them.

Ameerah & James ’12
“I’m African American, and I’m from Charleston, South Carolina,” Vickers says. “I know I’m Geechee because of my accent—because I talk like this.” Vickers’ family originated on McLeod Plantation by the James Island Connector. McLeod Plantation is now an important educational site in Gullah culture.

McLeod Plantation
Vickers is a College of Charleston sophomore in the “Call Me MISTER” Teacher Recruitment Program. MISTER is an acronym for Men Instructing Students Toward Effective Role Modeling. The program was created to aid the critical shortage of African American male teachers, particularly in South Carolina.
“The culture itself is deteriorating,” Vickers continues. “It should be in history books because people don’t even know that they’re descendants of this culture. I think it’s an educator’s job to tell people about it. I feel like no one would listen to me. They’d take it as a joke.”
Vickers first learned about Gullah Geechee culture in middle school. “Queen Quet (Marquetta Goodwine) came to our school and spoke. I remember thinking my grandma talks just like her.” He laughs. “I was the only one in class who understood what she was saying.” His laugh is loud and infectious. His girlfriend smiles and nudges him off her shoulder.
“I think it’s so interesting,” Mills says. “I’d sign up for a class about Gullah so fast.”
Mills, a senior Sociology major at CofC, is a former summer counselor for the Upward Bound Pre College Programs at the college. She recalls bringing the high school students on a tour of Avery Research Center for African American History & Culture.

Ameerah & Tremaine, UB ’11
“I really want to go back by myself sometime so I can really look around without keeping track of the kids. But when we saw the Gullah Bible (De Gullah Nyew Testament), and I heard Tremaine read it in her accent!” Mills’ face lights up. “I was like…YES!” Tremaine is an Upward Bound student from Wadmalaw Island.
Mills is completing a study guide for a test on stereotypes and racism. However, her excitement for the culture and her boyfriend’s history trumps studying for a few minutes.
“Not to be corny—but I learned a little bit about the culture from ‘Gullah Gullah Island.’ I used to think the show was about Jamaica.” She pulls her curly red hair into a ponytail. Vickers has re-positioned himself on her shoulder, phone in hand. Every few minutes he laughs at something he sees on Twitter.

“Gullah Gullah Island” ’94-’98
“I don’t know,” Mills continues. “The Gullah culture is a beautiful thing. Culture in general. I don’t really know much about mine, so the closest thing is knowing y’alls.” She nods her head toward Vickers. She spent most of her childhood in Fayetteville, NC. A military brat, she graduated from high school in Charleston. Her mother is black, and her father is Puerto Rican.
“My great-great-grandma was a slave,” she explains.” My great-grandma lives in Orangeburg. She doesn’t have a birthday. We guess, you know? We celebrate it at the end of January.” Mills widens her eyes and moves both of her her hands in a circular motion as if to say, how crazy is that?

UB ’11
For young adults like Sanders, Vickers and Mills, there is hope for the culture. They connect and would like to join a growing circle with others who do also.
Both Saunders and Blake are commissioners on the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, which works to preserve and protect the Gullah culture.
However, Saunders feels that “preserve” isn’t the right term.
“When we preserved fruits and food when I was growing up, we put some of it in jar to age. The rest we threw away. We can’t preserve the culture. We have to let it live. Let it flourish. Grow.”
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I wrote this in 2012 for a Feature Writing course while completing my B.S. in Communication-Media Studies. I received a minor in African American studies. Today I’m looking back in awe at this article and the amazing people I was privileged to interview.
FLASH FORWARD 4 YEARS:
Mr. Bill Saunders continues his lifetime work of activism, speaking out about Civil Rights, injustices and other issues facing our community.

Dr. J Herman Blake is now the Executive Director of the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor Commission.

Winema Sanders is the Youth Programs Manager at The Palms, a luxury resort in Turks & Caicos, and the proud, new mother of son, Kymani.
James Vickers is a middle school Social Studies teacher in North Charleston, SC. He makes it his job to fill in the cracks about African American and Gullah Geechee history for his students. He’s also a popular SC dj (@DJSCrib).
Ameerah Mills is completing the Master of Education program in Secondary School Counseling at The Citadel. She is also preparing to study abroad in London this Summer–for the 2nd time.
James and Ameerah are engaged 🙂
And I am a Cultural History Interpreter at McLeod Plantation Historic Site where Vickers’ family descended from.
Crazy how life works. Like my mama said, we been comin’ a long time.