THE REMARKABLE HARRIET JACOBS AND OUR LIVES TODAY

Edenton, North Carolina

We took an outing to Edenton, a picturesque town on the Albemarle Sound just a two and a half hour drive from home, where preserved historic areas are buttressed by reminders of slavery, much as enslaved labor buttressed the coastal economy.   

My husband recently finished Harriet Jacobs' Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Written by Herself.  In the 1820s and 30s, Jacobs (1813-1897) lived hidden in the attic of her grandmother Molly, a freed woman, for nearly 7 years.  Can you imagine? The room was less than head height.  She was waiting for the right time to escape to freedom by way of the Chowan River. 

We went to Edenton to try to feel what life there was like.  It was the kind of trip that acts more like a whipsaw than anything else.  Filled with contradictions like life often is.  For us, a stay in a lovely room at the Inner Banks Inn with morning French Toast or eggs-to-order.  A little kitchen off the living room to make tea and coffee all hours. 

Living Room, Inner Banks Inn

A world apart from the world of Harriet Jacobs. And of those less privileged today.  We're more aware, aren't we, of our privilege at whatever level it lies?  

Just after arriving we walked to the grounds of St. Paul's Episcopal Church where Harriet and her children were baptized.  As my husband was describing to me  the "owner" who made her life unbearable, we spotted his grave: James Norcom, M.D. (1777-1850), who was known throughout his life as  "one of the most distinguished physicians of his time."

And in fact he does seem to have practiced charity to all, all but the enslaved. To Harriet he is a "licentious master" and predator who subjects her (and others) to unrelenting abuse.  Both he and his wife were known among the enslaved for their cruelty and violence.  Harriet chooses confinement--for who knew how long--in the crawl space over her grandmother's home and bakery, to life in the Norcom household.  

The next day we took the Harriet Jacobs' Tour; basically a golf-cart ride with a knowledgeable State guide around the places associated with the writer. Neither of us had heard the term "maritime railroad" but along the North Carolina coast it was a thriving and dangerous route to freedom.  Jacobs dresses as a sailor when she makes her escape North.

To no avail Norcom continues to hunt her with a passion. Here Norcom offers a $100 REWARD for "the apprehension and delivery of my Servant Girl, HARRIET.  She is a light mulatto," he says, "21 years of age, about 5 feet 4 inches high. . . ."  "She speaks easily and fluently," he continues, "and has an agreeable carriage and address."   James wants her back.   In her autobiography she states that she is able to fend him off, no mean feat.  It enrages the man.  The guide tells us that he becomes obsessed with her. Just reading this poster is hurtful. 

Part of the Jacobs' tour includes the African-American Cemetery, mostly unmarked graves. A few weeks ago we also stayed one night in Old Salem, in another historic inn, just an hour and a half from home.  There we saw what is called the Stranger's Graveyard.  Stones of African Americans marked only Adult or Child.

Harriet's life story is remarkable. She unites with her children and once free leads a long and extraordinary life as an activist.  She does more good than Norcom ever dreamed of. 

These trips are moving occasions.  While we were at the Inner Banks Inn the Derek Chauven verdict also came down.  Guilty on all counts.  The jury found beyond a reasonable doubt that ex-officer Chauven murdered George Floyd with his knee.  And all because a prescient child filmed the murder with her phone.  We watched promises that change and accountability are coming and hope, despite almost immediate evidence to the contrary, that this may be true. 

We are used to intense times, aren't we?  Pandemic worries, fears of violence, and whatever else we cope with. We are used to the cognitive dissonance, as it's called, of living with tremendous difficulties, and yet having wonderful lives.  I feel like this was a week of paying respects.  But it was also a longed-for week of traveling with my husband, eating food cooked by someone else, and sleeping on sheets I don't have to change.  It was a week at water's edge seeing new sights.  Now at its end I feel transformed, in more ways than one. 

With love and respect for all, Nina Naomi  

1886 Roanoke River Lighthouse, Edenton