The African Burial Ground was something I had neither seen nor ever heard of before prior to our trip. The fact that it had never made its way into any of my classrooms before this semester, despite twelve long school years. I found it interesting that I had been to museums and monuments, such as those on Ellis Island, dedicated to the preservation and commemoration of the European immigrants who helped shape the United States, and yet I had never learned about the African Americans who were vital to the creation of modern America. After further research, I discovered that the African Burial Ground is the only preserved urban eighteenth-century African cemetery in the entire country, and it is the only U.S. national monument that commemorates the difficulties that Africans and African descendants had to overcome. Strangely enough, it was also only declared a national monument in 2006. Despite not having explicitly stated laws regarding race, such as the Jim Crow laws, we still have a long way to go in our pursuit of total equality and justice for all.

The museum itself struck me with its inconspicuous and tightly spaced location. It seemed like an extension of the building as opposed to the main attraction. It resembled an annexation of sorts, with very little content but that still made a lasting impression on me. I especially admired the wall with the grave photos because I thought it was a beautiful way of exhibiting the joining force of all men: death. The leftover remains from the burial grounds could have been anyone’s. Bones have no color. The sight of the children was especially devastating. It was stated that half of the graves that were found belonged to minors. You can tell a lot about a society by how they treat their children, the future of their country. It broke my heart.

I also especially admired the connections that were illustrated between the blacks buried there and their African customs. There were mentions of traditional beads and shells, which really contributed to my visualization of their past lives. In addition, the film also struck me and left me feeling like I had gotten a great glimpse into the horrors of living as a black American at that time. Despite having helped develop New York City, they were treated as less than human. I loved the quote, “This is not Black history. This is American history. But this is American history that’s finally been told.” I thought this really captured the role we have all played in undervaluing the significant impact black people had in shaping the America we love to call our own today. The entire trip was eye-opening and emotional. I know that field notes are technically suppose to focus on the five senses, but I found that limiting on this trip. I didn’t smell anything special. Didn’t touch anything special. Didn’t taste anything special. I did, however, feel. It was a spiritual journey that left me wondering where the love had been all these years ago.