45 pages • 1 hour read
Tiya MilesA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Antique objects have served as repositories of legacy for enslaved people and their descendants, who are disproportionately underrepresented in surviving written historical records, especially those kept in the American South. These material objects are similarly scarce, as Black people were routinely dispossessed of their homes and personal property from the time of slavery through the periods of Reconstruction and Jim Crow. Some of those precious objects that have survived were preserved through rescue, and this act of salvage is imbued with both the stories of the objects’ origins and the efforts to preserve them over time.
These objects themselves have instructive properties, carrying memories of their emotional significance and a lens through which to view the family’s collective past, especially when an artifact’s meaning derives from its survival through a period of hardship. These objects survive as testaments of their owners’ survival and carry a collective reference uniting families in their understanding of their shared story.
One of the greatest mysteries of Ashley’s Sack is how it came to end up in a bin full of assorted textiles in an outdoor market outside of Nashville. Ruth died of tuberculosis before age 40, and despite extensive efforts by Miles and expert genealogists she consulted with, Ruth’s daughter Dorothy vanishes from the record until her death is recorded in 1988. No documentation exists on whether the sack remained in Dorothy’s possession in the 40 years between her mother’s death and her own, or whether it was moved elsewhere before Dorothy’s death.
By 2007 it was in the possession of strangers, 800 miles from Ruth’s adopted home of Philadelphia. This highlights one of the key difficulties in assessing material culture as a source of historical documentation: provenance. It remains unknown whether it was an oversight that the sack was not discarded or whether someone saved it intentionally. That it appeared in the early 21st century and captured the attention of the eBay reseller who bought and salvaged it offers a measure of hope that other material objects holding significance in the annals of Black history may yet be discovered, and that they may reveal information that contributes to the growing body of research on African American experiences.
Ashley’s sack serves as a powerful artifact demonstrating how Black women preserved their history and memory despite overwhelmingly difficult circumstances. Of all the practical items contained within the sack, arguably the most important component is intangible: “my Love always,” Rose’s promise to her daughter. Miles casts Black women in the role of “Love’s Practitioners,” a reverential nod to the role that they played in communicating the depths of their enduring love to those most precious to them despite distance and unimaginable circumstances.
The resilience they demonstrated in the face of injustice demonstrates their ability to transcend pain and show empathy for those who needed them. Perhaps this is why the sack was kept so long after it was emptied, not simply as a physical connection to Ruth’s matrilineal legacy, but as a repository for the greatest gift a mother can bestow upon her child, endlessly radiating through the generations. Ashley never saw her mother again, but her pledge of “always” was remembered by a nine-year-old girl who grew into the grandmother who survived the Civil War to relate to her grandchild the exact words of her mother’s voice at the beginning of the next century.
Miles ponders why Ruth might have chosen 1921 as the year to embroider her grandmother’s story onto the sack and posits that some of the hardships rooted in racism that she encountered in Philadelphia might have inspired her to think back on the story and consider it from a different perspective than she had as a child. By this time, Ruth had become a mother herself, and perhaps her understanding of Rose’s heartbreak resonated differently with her than it had before Dorothy’s birth. Miles suggests that Ruth married Arthur Middleton when she was approximately 16 years old because she was pregnant with Dorothy. After he returned from serving in World War I shortly after their marriage, he and Ruth never lived together again. Ruth and Dorothy were essentially a mother and daughter on their own in a strange new city, and they resided together until Ruth was hospitalized with tuberculosis, which would eventually take her life.
The women’s desire to remain close to one another was shaped by their remembrance of their ancestors’ traumatic experiences. Just as Ashley’s departure from Rose was the last time she ever saw her mother, Ruth’s move to Philadelphia meant Ruth would never see her grandmother again. By embroidering the sack, she ensured that the significance of their family’s history would exist in tangible form even if it was never recorded in the official annals of history.
Miles addresses the concerns that arise from Ashley’s Sack coming under the ownership of Middleton Place to emphasize the importance of the country as a whole acknowledging its responsibility for highlighting the experience of marginalized peoples. Descendants of the slave-holding Middletons are still involved in the administration of the facility, which is open to the public as a museum.
While its primary aspirations are as an educational facility, Middleton Place also hosts weddings and events on the property. Like the romanticization of the Lowcountry and the “Holy City” of Charleston, many former plantations are open to the public as tourist attractions and research centers, and their commitments vary concerning the level of effort and importance they place on the representation of those whose forced labor supported these estates.
Equally important to the commitment to representing African American stories in study and education is the question of who should have the authority to tell these stories and the need for diverse collaboration in compiling and delivering these histories to the public in a meaningful and sensitive way. Interpretations of Black history that are incomplete or inaccurate have the potential to be more harmful and destructive than the lack of representation altogether. Thus, it is of great importance that those responsible for institutions representing Black or enslaved history design their programming thoughtfully and consciously.
In addressing this problematic issue of custodianship and ownership, Miles reminds readers that responsibility exists in the stewardship of the objects belonging to the collective legacy of specific groups of marginalized peoples, and in how objects pertaining to their overarching story are handled and exhibited. An object given to the Smithsonian on loan casts behind it a shadow that an item freely gifted item might not. Museums, especially those in the South or those converted from former sites of enslavement, have varying levels of commitment to representing and incorporating the experiences of enslaved people into their programming. Some of these establishments are wedding venues and tourist attractions, which incentivizes owners to obscure the history of brutality the landmarks represent. Instead, Miles urges museums and other historical sites to present themselves as symbols of African American resilience, even amidst the dehumanizing conditions of slavery.
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