DEAR AMERICA
The Diary of
Clotee, a Slave Girl
A Picture
of Freedom
PATRICIA C. MCKISSACK
Honoring Lizzie Passmore my great-great-great grandmother who dared to learn and teach
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Belmont Plantation, Virginia 1859
March 1859
Next mornin’, first light
Few days later
Next day
Next day
Monday
Two days later
Next day
Next day
Friday
Next night
Next day
Easter Sunday
Monday evenin’
Day or two later
Friday
First Sunday in April
Later the same day
Monday
Monday again
Later
Tuesday
Next day
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Later
Midweek
Friday
Next night
Fourth Sunday in April
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Day later
Friday evenin’, April 29, 1859 (I think)
Sunday — after last meal
First Sunday in May
Monday night
Day later
Wednesday
Wednesday evenin’
Next day
Saturday
Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Next day
Followin’ day
Saturday
Later on
Third Sunday in May
Days later
Next afternoon
Saturday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Later
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday, June 1, 1859
Next day
Friday
Saturday
Sunday
Monday
Sunday week — second Sunday in June
Monday
Followin’ Saturday
Third Sunday in June
Monday
Last week in June
Friday, July 1
July 2
July 4
July 6
July 7
July 10
Second Monday in July
Tuesday
Early Thursday mornin’
Next evenin’
Day later
Monday, July 18, 1859
Wednesday
Later
Thursday
Fourth Saturday in July
Early the next mornin’
Day later — Monday, July 25, 1859
Later
Sunrise Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Two weeks later
Third Monday in August
Next day
Monday again
After the dinner meal that same day
Week later
Few days later
Thursday night
Last Monday in August
First day of September
Monday
Tuesday, September 6, 1859
Wednesday, September 7, 1859
Thursday, September 8, 1859
Friday, September 9, 1859
Saturday, September 10, 1859
Sunday, September 11, 1859
After study time — Monday, September 12, 1859
Wednesday, September 14, 1859
Thursday, September 15, 1859
Monday, September 19, 1859
Tuesday, September 20, 1859
Later the same day
Wednesday, September 21, 1859
Monday, September 26, 1859
Tuesday, September 27, 1859
Friday, September 30, 1859
Monday, October 3, 1859
Tuesday, October 4, 1859
Later the same day
Wednesday, October 5, 1859
Thursday, October 6, 1859
Monday, October 10, 1859
Tuesday, October 11, 1859
Later that same night
Daybreak Sunday, October 16, 1859
Later
Monday, October 17, 1859
Tuesday, October 18, 1859
Wednesday, October 19, 1859
Sunday, October 23, 1859
Monday, October 24, 1859
Tuesday, October 25, 1859
Friday, October 28, 1859
Saturday, October 29, 1859
After last meal the same day
Monday, October 31, 1859
Wednesday, November 2, 1859
Sunday, November 6, 1859
Monday, November 7, 1859
Tuesday, November 8, 1859
Wednesday, November 9, 1859
Friday, November 11, 1859
Saturday, November 12, 1859
Sunday, November 13, 1859
Monday, November 14, 1859
Sunday, November 20, 1859
Later
Monday, November 21, 1859
Tuesday, November 22, 1859
Later that same night
Wednesday, November 23, 1859
Saturday, November 26, 1859
Later
Sunday, November 27, 1859
Monday, November 28, 1859
Tuesday, November 29, 1859
Wednesday, November 30, 1859
Thursday, December 1, 1859
Friday, December 2, 1859
Later
Saturday, December 3, 1859
Sunday, December 4, 1859
Monday, December 5, 1859
Tuesday, December 6, 1859
Later
Wednesday, December 7, 1859
Thursday, December 8, 1859
Friday, December 9, 1859
Saturday, December 10, 1859
Sunday, December 11, 1859
Later
Monday, December 12, 1859
Tuesday, December 13, 1859
Wednesday, December 14, 1859
Thursday, December 15, 1859
Later
Friday, December 16, 1859
Saturday, December 17, 1859
Sunday, December 18, 1859
Monday, December 19, 1859
Tuesday, December 20, 1859
Later
Thursday, December 22, 1859
Saturday, December 24, 1859 — Christmas Eve
Sunday, December 25, 1859 — Christmas Day
Later
Monday, December 26, 1859
Friday, December 30, 1859
Saturday, December 31, 1859 — New Year’s Eve
Later
Sunday, January 1, 1860 — New Year’s Day
Later
Thursday, January 5, 1860
Later
Still later
Friday, January 6, 1860
Saturday, January 7, 1860
Later
Late Saturday night
Sunday, January 8, 1860
Later
Monday, January 9, 1860
Tuesday, January 10, 1860
Wednesday, January 11, 1860
Sunday
January cold
Next day
Day or so later
Early February
Week later
Monday
Tuesday
&
nbsp; Wednesday
Next day
Monday again
Week later
Monday (I hope)
Saturday
Shortly after midnight Sunday morning
Monday
Tuesday
Next day
Next day
Day later
Later
Later
Dark of the moon
Next night
Into March
Sunday
April 1860
Full moon, April, 1860
Next day
Epilogue
Life in America in 1859
Historical Note
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Other books in the Dear America series
Copyright
Belmont Plantation,
Virginia
1859
March 1859
The spring blooms are comin’ and the sky is a sure blue. March never knows if it wants to be a spring month or a winter month. The heat’s come early to Virginia this year. That’s fine with me though. As long as it’s hot I have to fan young Mas’ William and Miz Lilly, my mistress, during their study time. This mornin’ was the first day of my third learnin’ season. For now on three years, I been fannin’ them, liftin’ and lowerin’ the big fan made of woven Carolina sweet grass — up and down, up and down. The fan stirs the thick air — up and down, up and down — and chases away worrisome horse flies and eye gnats. It may seem like a silly job. But, I don’t mind one bit, ’cause while William is learnin’, so am I.
Standin’ there fannin’ — up and down, up and down — I come to know my ABCs and the sounds the letters make. I teached myself how to read words. Now, I can pick through things I find to read — like throwed away newspapers, letters in the trash, and books I slip off Mas’ Henley’s shelf. It scares me to know what I know sometimes.
Slaves aine s’posed to know how to read and write, but I do. Miz Lilly would fall down in a fit if she knew I had made myself a diary like the one she’s got on her bed table. It don’t matter to me that hers is all wrapped in fine satin and got ribbons and beads on it and mine is just made up of papers I found in the trash and keeps tied together with a measure of yarn. It’s a diary just the same. Mine. And I aim to write in it whenever I get a chance.
I got to be real particular and make sure nobody finds out though, ’cause if my mas’er finds out I would fall under the whip. Time and time again I done heard Mas’ Henley swear that if he catches his slaves with learnin’ he’ll beat the skin off us, then sell our hides to slavers from the Deep South. He got the law on his side, too. Anybody found teachin’ a slave in the state of Virginia can be sent to jail. Sure! Wonder why the white folks is so determined to keep us from knowin’ things? What are they scared of?
Cain’t help but laugh a little bit when I think of what Mas’ Henley would think if he knew I could read better than his boy — and that it was his own wife that had teached me!
It’s near dark. Pray Lord, don’t let nobody find my diary hid behind the loose brick in the outside chimney wall, back of the kitchen. Hope it can stay dry and safe until I can sneak away to write again.
Next mornin’, first light
I got up extra early and churned the butter for breakfast and helped out in the kitchen the way Aunt Tee ’spects me to every mornin’. That give me a little time to practice my writin’ at my spot by the big tree out behind the kitchen. Sunrise is a good writin’ hour — when all is still and quiet.
I want to tell somebody ’bout all the things I done learned for the past three years. Words got magic. Every time I read or write a word it puts a picture in my head.
Like when I write H-O-M-E I sees Belmont Plantation and all the people that live here. I sees the Big House where Mas’ Henley, Miz Lilly, and William stay, livin’ easy. I sees the separate kitchen with the attic above it where I sleep along with Aunt Tee, Uncle Heb, and Hince. I sees the Quarters where my friends live, and beyond their cabins, the fields and orchards where they work. I sees Aunt Tee cookin’ at the fireplace, and the stables where Hince takes care of Mas’ Henley’s prize racin’ horses, and the gardens and grounds that Uncle Heb makes pretty. Home. That one li’l word shows me all of that.
Mas’ Henley thinks he owns everything here at Belmont, but he don’t own all of me — not really. I know, he can tell me to come and I got to come. When he say do this, I better do it or he’ll put the whip to my back. But I done learned that he cain’t tell me what to think — and feel — and know. He look at me every day but he cain’t see what’s in my head. He cain’t own what’s inside me. Nobody can.
Few days later
It rained all the long, long day. Everything is dampish and sticky. I wondered if my diary stayed dry in its hidin’ place. No need to worry, the stone covered it well.
Next day
It rained again today. When it rains hard, the field slaves don’t have to work. But our work in the kitchen goes on all the time — no days off.
Aunt Tee say I’m lucky, gettin’ picked to work in the Big House. I aine so sure. Livin’ right under Mas’ Henley and Miz Lilly aine so easy to me. We got to do their biddin’ all hours of the night and day. But field work is hard — hard on your back, and in the summer, the heat is smothery. I guess what it comes to is bein’ a slave aine no good no matter where they got you workin’.
Next day
I just wrote T-R-E-E. I see my tree — the live oak behind the kitchen where I come to write whenever I can slip away. I put a “s” on tree and now the word is trees. The picture in my head turns to the apple orchards. In spring, the apple trees are filled with bright, white blossoms. I close my eyes and see the same trees in the green of summer, and full of good-tastin’ apples in the fall. I love playin’ with words — puttin’ letters in and takin’ letters out and lettin’ the pictures change.
Monday
I know it’s Monday, ’cause Miz Lilly comes to the kitchen every Monday mornin’ to pass out the flour, sugar, and meal.
It’s so hard keepin’ secrets from the people I live with. Sometimes when I’m helpin’ Aunt Tee in the kitchen, I want to tell her ’bout my learnin’ so bad. But I cain’t, even though she’s ’bout the closest thing to a mama I got since my own mama died five years ago. I don’t think she’d do a thing to hurt me, but she been real close with Mas’ Henley all his life. Been his cook — since before he got married to Miz Lilly. Cain’t take the chance.
I want to tell Uncle Heb how I used his whittlin’ knife to make a writin’ pen out of a turkey quill. He’d be right proud of his Sunflower Girl, that’s what he calls me. But he’s old now, forgetful. He might just slip up and tell the wrong person, who’d tell Mas’ Henley on me just to win a favor.
What I wouldn’t give to tell Hince how, whilst I’m dustin’, I slip ink out of Mas’ Henley’s study in a glass bottle. I can see him laughin’ so his eyes would water up. I’d come more close to tellin’ Hince my secret than anybody — him bein’ like a big brother to me, always teasin’ and funnin’. Hince say I study on things all the time — off by myself too much. He don’t understand I aine off to myself ’cause I want to be. I’m just bein’ careful-like, not wantin’ to be caught practicin’ my writin’ and readin’.
If Mama was alive I could tell her. But Mama is gone, gone forever. Dead. So there’s nobody I trust enough to tell.
Two days later
It aine even summer yet, and William is fussin’ ’bout the heat. I am twelve and he is, too. But he seems so much younger. Maybe it’s ’cause William is forever whinin’ ’bout something — ’specially at study time. I just stay quiet and listen, fannin’ — up and down, up and down. Aunt Tee say William is spoiled to a stink. Mas’ Henley thinks his son is a little piece of heaven here on earth. ’Course, nobody else shares that notion, not even the boy’s mama.
Next day
There’s goin’ to be a dinner party in the Big House ton
ight. Aunt Tee sent me down to the Quarters to get Aggie and Eva Mae to help out in the kitchen. Whenever I write F-R-I-E-N-D, I always put a “s” on it, ’cause I have two friends — Eva Mae’s daughter, Missy. She’s fifteen. And Aggie’s daughter, Wook. She’s sixteen. They all growed up now, but we still be friends. Known them all my life. Cain’t even remember a time when I didn’t know them.
I’ve always been a little jealous ’cause Wook and Missy be closer to each other than they’s to me. And they each got their mamas with them. Missy’s daddy was Mas’ Henley’s best jockey, but he was throwed from his horse and killed a year or so back. Now Hince do all the ridin’. Eva Mae is still grievin’ and Missy misses her daddy much as I miss my mama.
Wook is lucky to have a daddy like Rufus. Anybody who knows Rufus and Aggie likes them. Rufus came to Belmont ’bout two years ago from over in Hampton. He’s a strong man, big, but not fat — not tall either. Uncle Heb say he’s a God-fearin’ man. Mas’ must have seen that Rufus was a natural-born leader, so he made Rufus the field boss.
A lot of women had their eyes on Rufus when he came, but he married Aggie, a big fine woman who had a daughter, but Rufus took Wook to be his very own daughter.
Aggie is goin’ to have a baby real soon. When her time come, Aunt Tee will do the birthin’. Aunt Tee is the plantation midwife — birthed Hince, Wook, Missy, and even birthed me. She look out after all the ’spectin’ women. She’s showed me the secrets to all her medicine recipes, but she will not let me go to a birthin’ with her. I want to know ’bout such things, but Aunt Tee say, it’s not for me. How do she know it’s not for me, if she aine never let me go?
Next day
Even though we don’t live but a short walk from each other, Wook and Missy and I don’t get to visit much durin’ the week — just on Saturday nights and Sunday. I got to ’fess, I likes Wook better than Missy. Missy always pushed and hit us when she was young. Now that she’s a big girl, she push and hit with words. Just yesterday she come sayin’ I thought I was somebody, ’cause I work in the Big House. Aggie and Wook work in the fields, hunched over all day in the hot sun. Aunt Tee say that’s enough to make a body mean.
Friday
Fear of another frost is over, and the moon is full. Aunt Tee said it was time to plant the house garden behind the kitchen. The family will eat out of it all summer and well into fall. Put in greens, goobers, cabbage, okra — all we could plant on that one spot. Takin’ care of the house garden is one job I don’t mind doin’. Its fun workin’ with the plants, watchin’ them grow and make food.