#antebellum home

[utterlyimpossible]

Front Yard Porch This is an illustration of a roof extension on a medium-sized coastal concrete front porch.

[vintagehomecollection]

Soon after John Y. Brown, Jr. was elected governor of Kentucky, he and his wife, sportscaster Phyllis George, discovered Cave Hill Place, a romantic antebellum mansion in Lexington. With the assistance of R. Wayne Jenkins, the home, built in 1821 by a nephew of Patrick Henry, was totally renovated and decorated in a matter of six short weeks. Lofty pink oaks and maples provide shade for the neo-Federal style residence; its Georgian portico was a 1916 addition.

Celebrity Homes II, 1981

[flower-biter]

The Nathaniel Russell house, Charleston, South Carolina xx

[faithandarisadventures]

Arlington Antebellum Home and Gardens Birmingham, Alabama July 16, 2022

[margot-wren]

Brick - Exterior Idea for a large, two-story brick gable roof along the coast

[withleeknow]

away from you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a touch of angst if you squint and then close your eyes entirely, unedited 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k listen to 🎧: what i'm leaving for - lady antebellum note: yet another est. rel drabble because this is purely self-indulgent and i miss him very much lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when you hear the key turn in the lock, you're up from the couch in a blink of an eye.

a pile of jittery nerves and longing, that's what you've been reduced to.

you will yourself to wait - the most patient you think you've been in a long time - until he hauls his suitcases past the threshold, until he takes off his coat and hangs it on the hook in the entryway, until he kicks off his shoes and places them neatly next to yours, until the keys are in the bowl, until he lets out a heavy but relieved sigh before shuffling further into your shared home.

you feel like you could cry the very second your eyes land on him. it's been months since you've been in the same room as him - exactly three and a half months, because you have been counting. counting down the days until he returns, until you're back in his embrace again.

not all of the lights are turned on, but there isn't a single part of you that cares about whether or not your living room is properly lit. you launch yourself at him with a force that sends him stumbling backward until his sweater-clad torso softly lands on the wall. minho gasps - a slightly alarmed oof! - but soon relaxes when he recognizes the familiar and comforting scent of your shampoo.

he greets you with a laugh, light and relieved, like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

"hi," you sniffle, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tightly against his chest. god, it's not even dramatic to admit that you've been dreaming of this.

"hi," he says, voice muffled as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "why are you still up? i told you not to wait up for me."

"it's only 1am."

"but i know you've had a long week."

"don't care."

it's true. you can't bring yourself to care about the hellish week you've had because all of those troubles seem to melt away in his presence. you wouldn't even care if his flight had landed at 5 in the morning, because you would have stayed up the whole night to wait for him anyway.

minho makes everything better for you.

"i'm all gross from the plane," he says, though he doesn't ease his hold on you at all.

"don't care."

"you missed me that much?" there's something playful in his tone as he asks you this, partly because he always wants to tease you for being down bad for him, partly because he can sense that you're about to turn into a crybaby.

you pull back just enough to look at his face, his striking features illuminated only by the dim lights. but even then, he's still stunning. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

you pout with teary eyes as your fingers trace his cheek, his jawline, his sharp nose that you love so much. "don't make fun of me," you say, though your voice comes out a bit wobbly. "you know i missed you so fucking much."

he chuckles fondly at your language, his big eyes glimmering like a north star, before he dips his head to finally kiss you. and it's fucking liberating, the first kiss that you've shared in months.

his lips move languidly against yours, like he's trying to savor the moment, trying to commit to memory the taste of you because these instances tend to hit him the hardest even if he doesn't always tell you that.

he absolutely hates it when he has to be away from you, but whenever he returns and gets to have you again, it always makes the love burst tenfold in him. absence makes the heart grow fonder - maybe there’s some truth in that.

he kisses you until you're both out of breath, until he has to reluctantly pull away so your lungs wouldn't burn out. "i missed you too," he mumbles, his lips brushing yours with every syllable he speaks. "missed you so much i thought i was going to die."

you laugh at the theatrics of his words, and then you cry, a single tear overflowing and rolling down your cheek, which minho quickly brushes away with his thumb. "a little dramatic," you comment.

"i was miserable. ask anyone."

you roll your eyes, feeling the slight burn behind them as you hold onto him, clutching his sweater to keep him close to you.

“you’re never allowed to leave me for that long ever again.”

with an amused eyebrow raised, minho says, “then how long am i allowed to leave you for?”

“five hours.”

“five hours? that’s not even a whole work day.”

you pretend to be in thought, then pretend to compromise. “okay, fine. eight hours.”

his eyes crinkle with mirth as he looks at you, so incredibly endeared by the adorable pout on your lips and the glassy look in your eyes, by you pawing at his chest like you never want him to leave.

he doesn’t want to leave either. he just wants to stay by your side forever.

“god, i missed you so much,” minho breathes out, then leans down to rest his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with his along the way. “i’m sorry i was away for so long.”

“you’re here now. that’s all that matters.”

he kisses you again, even softer and slower this time. he adores you so much that it feels like his heart is about to give out.

“i’m home now. i love you.”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 18.12.2023]

[fatehbaz]

In fact, far more Asian workers moved to the Americas in the 19th century to make sugar than to build the transcontinental railroad [...]. [T]housands of Chinese migrants were recruited to work [...] on Louisiana’s sugar plantations after the Civil War. [...] Recruited and reviled as "coolies," their presence in sugar production helped justify racial exclusion after the abolition of slavery.

In places where sugar cane is grown, such as Mauritius, Fiji, Hawaii, Guyana, Trinidad and Suriname, there is usually a sizable population of Asians who can trace their ancestry to India, China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia and elsewhere. They are descendants of sugar plantation workers, whose migration and labor embodied the limitations and contradictions of chattel slavery’s slow death in the 19th century. [...]

---

Mass consumption of sugar in industrializing Europe and North America rested on mass production of sugar by enslaved Africans in the colonies. The whip, the market, and the law institutionalized slavery across the Americas, including in the U.S. When the Haitian Revolution erupted in 1791 and Napoleon Bonaparte’s mission to reclaim Saint-Domingue, France’s most prized colony, failed, slaveholding regimes around the world grew alarmed. In response to a series of slave rebellions in its own sugar colonies, especially in Jamaica, the British Empire formally abolished slavery in the 1830s. British emancipation included a payment of £20 million to slave owners, an immense sum of money that British taxpayers made loan payments on until 2015.

Importing indentured labor from Asia emerged as a potential way to maintain the British Empire’s sugar plantation system.

In 1838 John Gladstone, father of future prime minister William E. Gladstone, arranged for the shipment of 396 South Asian workers, bound to five years of indentured labor, to his sugar estates in British Guiana. The experiment with “Gladstone coolies,” as those workers came to be known, inaugurated [...] “a new system of [...] [indentured servitude],” which would endure for nearly a century. [...]

---

Bonaparte [...] agreed to sell France's claims [...] to the U.S. [...] in 1803, in [...] the Louisiana Purchase. Plantation owners who escaped Saint-Domingue [Haiti] with their enslaved workers helped establish a booming sugar industry in southern Louisiana. On huge plantations surrounding New Orleans, home of the largest slave market in the antebellum South, sugar production took off in the first half of the 19th century. By 1853, Louisiana was producing nearly 25% of all exportable sugar in the world. [...] On the eve of the Civil War, Louisiana’s sugar industry was valued at US$200 million. More than half of that figure represented the valuation of the ownership of human beings – Black people who did the backbreaking labor [...]. By the war’s end, approximately $193 million of the sugar industry’s prewar value had vanished.

Desperate to regain power and authority after the war, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters studied and learned from their Caribbean counterparts. They, too, looked to Asian workers for their salvation, fantasizing that so-called “coolies” [...].

Thousands of Chinese workers landed in Louisiana between 1866 and 1870, recruited from the Caribbean, China and California. Bound to multiyear contracts, they symbolized Louisiana planters’ racial hope [...].

To great fanfare, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters spent thousands of dollars to recruit gangs of Chinese workers. When 140 Chinese laborers arrived on Millaudon plantation near New Orleans on July 4, 1870, at a cost of about $10,000 in recruitment fees, the New Orleans Times reported that they were “young, athletic, intelligent, sober and cleanly” and superior to “the vast majority of our African population.” [...] But [...] [w]hen they heard that other workers earned more, they demanded the same. When planters refused, they ran away. The Chinese recruits, the Planters’ Banner observed in 1871, were “fond of changing about, run away worse than [Black people], and … leave as soon as anybody offers them higher wages.”

When Congress debated excluding the Chinese from the United States in 1882, Rep. Horace F. Page of California argued that the United States could not allow the entry of “millions of cooly slaves and serfs.” That racial reasoning would justify a long series of anti-Asian laws and policies on immigration and naturalization for nearly a century.

---

All text above by: Moon-Ho Jung. "Making sugar, making 'coolies': Chinese laborers toiled alongside Black workers on 19th-century Louisiana plantations". The Conversation. 13 January 2022. [All bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[auckie]

You know foghorn leghorn the type of guy to come home late after a night of drinking and stand ominously in the dark hallway backlit by the front porch and see that there’s like. One cup in the sink and he says ‘I say— I say— I said how many times. Have I done told you.’ In an eerily calm voice, then he raises like 200 decibles outta nowhere ‘TO NOT LEAVE NO DAMN DISHES IN THE FUCKING SINK FOR ME T’COME HOME TO WOMAN?!’

Or like to be sitting in his favorite chair with the tube tv flashing, giving him an opposing silhouette and just like that terrifying gif of uncle phill like zooming forward he just is suddenly up out of his chair John Goodman yelling. Like he’s scary as shit. He might wear a white antebellum lawyer suit during the day but I can just as easily see him wearing a wife beater and work boots and just backhanding me so hard that I crack the drywall. I’m so scared of him. But that’s also why I picked him for marry in todays hypothetical FMK posited at work, because it felt like a horrible tragic Tennessee Williams play and also the other options were bugs (fuck, he would make a horrible husband) and porky (kill because I can’t fix him, and he can’t fuck. He only makes love. He watches bugs and daffy from afar and wishes he could be bugs so badly so daffy would want him back. and I know he would be thinking about it with someone, anyone else. Also I would probably like. Turn into foghorn leghorn if he expected me to top him.).

[artbyjessicajewett]

Hi everyone! I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jessica and I was a previous user of Tumblr before it was bought. I decided to come back.

Today I'm not so much a fandom person (my first account was a Supernatural and Destiel vibe) as I am living my "real" life as an artist, author, historian, and disability rights activist. I'll be 42 in February and I live on the border of Ohio and West Virginia - like, literally on the border. I can almost throw a rock and hit West Virginia from my apartment building. Living here after spending over twenty years in Georgia has been a fresh change. Georgia is not a great place for people with complex disabilities like mine. I get much better medical care and access to state services here in Ohio, which is why I came here. My ancestry is Appalachian anyway, so this does feel like home in a strange way.

My art is what I do the most. This is me doing a commission order a few years ago.

You're immediately wondering about my disability and why I do everything with the tools in my mouth. I was born with a condition called Arthrogryposis and that just simply means my joints have very little range of motion. Much of my body is stiff. So I taught myself to play with my toys, markers, etc., with my mouth rather than my hands before I could even read or go to school. It was natural for me. I live a happy life and I'm not upset about being born with this disability. You don't have to feel sorry for me because I don't feel sorry for me.

At this stage in my life, I'm working on art commission number 91 with about 50 more on my wait list. My work specializes in black and white pencil portraits, mostly of different historical periods. Most of the art people order from me has to do with my ability to interpret their previous lifetimes (yes, reincarnation) as well as introducing them to their spirit guides. I do regular art with no spiritual complex as well, like family portraits, friends portraits, pet portraits, architecture, fan art, original characters, some fantasy, witchcraft, folk magic, paranormal, historical events, etc. I'm heavily trained in realistic very detailed portraits, so if you're looking for anime or cute illustrations, I'm probably not your woman.

This is the last commission I finished.

This is an interpretation of that customer's spirit guide as they appeared before they died. This is "my style" of art, as they say. I like to do color art too but I finish black and white orders much faster.

Besides art, I'm a lifelong student of 19th century history in America focusing on women's roles, families, social issues, disability history, and LGBTQIA+ history. I was in school to specifically become an antebellum and Civil War historian before chronic illnesses forced me to drop out. Higher education 20+ years ago was a casserole of nonsense when it came to helping disabled students succeed. Don't get me started.

I'm also a lifelong paranormal researcher focusing mostly on hauntings tied to antebellum and Civil War America including old folklore. My mother and grandmother were Missouri folk magic practitioners. I was raised in an understanding of the unseen world. I also collect reincarnation cases from the Civil War period sparked by my own case from that time. I'll talk about that elsewhere if you want.

Follow me here if you like. I'm just getting started. I have to relearn how to use this app.

-Jessica

Shop: etsy.com/shop/ArtByJessicaJewett

If you're not interested in art, I also accept tips if you enjoy my content. I'm at $ArtByJessicaJewett on CashApp, at Jessica-Jones-1002 on Venmo, and PayPal.me/ArtByJessicaJewett on PayPal.

[omgthatdress]

Cécile and Marie-Grace were released alongside the best friends line of dolls, and are a pretty transparent gimmick to get people to buy two dolls at once. That being said, I actually kind of love their collection.

Their story is set in New Orleans in 1853, which is a pretty great way to represent the Antebellum South without having a Scarlett O’Hara doll. New Orleans was one of the few places in the south with a robust middle class. Everywhere else had tremendous wealth inequality with absurdly rich plantation-owners, barely surviving poor Whites, and slaves.

Cécile is of the gens de coleur libre, that is, the free people of color, a class of New Orleans citizens born out of the plaçage system in which White men would take women of color as informal second wives. Plaçees held a really interesting position, as they could legally claim inheritance once their patron died, and the children born of plaçage could be named heir of an estate. Plaçees were also allowed to develop assets and run small businesses. All of this created a level of generational wealth that was unique among African-Americans at the time. Today, their descendants are known as Creoles.

As far as Marie-Grace goes, I don’t think she’s Cajun, just French-American. Cajuns are a specific group, the Catholic descendants of the French colonizers of Acadia, now called Nova Scotia, who were forced by the British out of the home. They settled mostly in the fertile Mississippi delta, and maintained a rural, somewhat insular way of life. Marie-Grace is the city-dwelling daughter of a doctor, so probably just the descendant of regular French citizens who settled in New Orleans.

Hair-wise, this is the era when girls tied their hair up with rags at night to have fat sausage curls in the morning. Most photographs and paintings that I’ve seen of Black girls in the era show them with their hair tied up, but there are a few who had curls.

Marie-Grace’s face-framing curls are a little bit more Jan Brady than 1850s, but it’s cute on her, so I’ll give her credit for that. The long hair isn’t inaccurate.

There’s something about Cécile’s dress that keeps saying “wrong” but I can’t quite put my finger on it. A more accurate dress would be more along the lines of something like this:

(The Victoria & Albert Museum)

(The Victoria & Albert Museum)

(New York Historical Society)

Marie-Grace’s dress seems to have been inspired by this portrait of Creole children:

(credit to @in-pleasant-company​ for finding it)

Cécile’s pillbox hat is a style that was adopted more in the late 1860s and 1870s. A more accurate hat would also have her in a “coal scoop” bonnet.

Her gloves, however, are accurate and adorable!

(The Met Museum)

Marie-Grace is wearing a kind of sun hat that was popular for children:

(The Met Museum)

Marie-Grace’s fan looks typical of the French fans that were popular at the time. They were usually painted with pretty pastoral scenes instead of flowers, however, although Chinese fans at the time frequently had floral themes.

(The Philadelphia Museum of Art)

(The Victoria & Albert Museum)

The shoes are definitely late Victorian rather than 1850s. Fine city ladies in the 1850s would be wearing boots made out of silk with leather soles:

(The Met Museum)

[thundergrace]

Wikipedia plot of the book:

The book is the first-person account of a young African-American writer, Dana, who finds herself being shunted in time between her Los Angeles, California home in 1976 and a pre-Civil War Maryland plantation. There she meets her ancestors: a proud Black freewoman and a white planter who has forced her into slavery and concubinage. As Dana's stays in the past become longer, she becomes intimately entangled with the plantation community. She makes hard choices to survive slavery and to ensure her return to her own time.

Kindred explores the dynamics and dilemmas of antebellum slavery from the sensibility of a late 20th-century Black woman, who is aware of its legacy in contemporary American society. Through the two interracial couples who form the emotional core of the story, the novel also explores the intersection of power, gender, and race issues, and speculates on the prospects of future egalitarianism.

I know we're a bit exhausted with these plots but, this is the original. Octavia Butler's 1976 classic. There's been many films and series inspired by it (most recently, 2020's Antebellum starring Janelle Monáe). It'll be interesting to see how this goes. I know many have been waiting for a direct adaptation.

[cooki3face]

Community does not need this!! But they’re loud in the comments about how harmful this could be for the community and divination and other spiritual practices and traditions! Thankfully!! I was just talking about spiritual psychosis on my close friends on Instagram yesterday and then I see things like this and post just went viral of some woman absolutely losing it, snot running out her nose and everything over the eclipse.

The fear mongering and demonization of spiritual teachings, astrology, tarot and spiritual practices and traditions is about to start becoming very big. It was already a really prominent thing oppressors have used for ages especially against poc who practice forms of witchcraft or deity worship they brought with them from home. I was just watching a docu-series yesterday that highlighted how the native population on mt. Shasta were forced to leave and practiced ritual and held ceremonies in the caves of mount Shasta and those who colonized would go into those caves after they left and preform mockeries of their ceremonies and rituals as entertainment.

We’re about to step into a reality and time where spiritual people, practitioners and others within the community will be replacing celebrities and individuals of high rank or people who hold a lot of power in this world and I said before that the oppressor has a very specific recipe for oppression and trying to keep people (especially in the west) as unaware and as stuck in perpetual karmic cycles and systems as much as possible. And this is just yet another technique they use to discredit individuals with gifts. They use psychics and astrologers and others themselves to help them predict and interpret what’s coming.

They use these types of stories or ideas to fuel radical religious beliefs and ideas that are built upon fear mongering and hatred, they use religious institutions and manipulated versions of their Bible and beliefs and create division within the west. Vast majority of republicans are statistically uneducated and are conservative who hold onto heavy religious beliefs and views to back up, support and justify their actions and beliefs. Heavily similar to antebellum America and the justification of slavery and the mistreatment of African American people.

To add onto that, this movie about tarot does not accurately portray what tarot really is and how it works whatsoever but guess who’ll believe it and perpetuate it. Half the negative ideas that are swirling around about metaphysical, Wiccan or spiritual practices are due to pop culture and horror movies and the individuals who sit at their desks in the dark scribbling away these plots and releasing these movies.

[bethanysnow]

Breakeven.

Prt 1.

Bang Chan X Plus Size Reader. Fluff mild angst. Slow burn?

The news broke that V from BTS's stalker was apprehended. The fact that someone got so close sent shock waves through the major companies to up security. Guards for even the groups that didn't have a major following, it felt incredibly necessary. Keeping the artists behind closed doors like hamsters in wheels and a very colorful and elaborate cage. The studio Stray Kids though did the majority of their work for their latest mixtape was across the street from a cafe. The road was mainly foot traffic and standing there on the concrete pavement was a woman with a guitar.

A foreigner. As divisive as that word is in South Korea, that's what she was...singing in English songs from a while back. Breakeven by The Script, Need You Now by Lady Antebellum. This heartache verbalized in the cry of the street. She bowed quietly with the smallest smile if people tipped her, that's at least what Chan noticed from his tower. Yes, the great tower of the unmarked building in the middle of the city. No one knew he was there, nor what the building was. Everyone below him just too busy with their own day to notice. He was grateful for that, but he found himself wanting to be amongst the people. Be there, go grocery shopping, go to a cafe. Exist in the cosmos of the cosmopolitin. So, looking out of the window of the studio he watched this woman. Living vicariously through her. He could hear her if he tried really hard with the window open, but most of the time it was when he snuck into the building he could hear.

Felix was setting down his things in a chair before seeing his friend deep in thought, not moving a muscle, just looking out the window. Walking beside him the blonde followed his eyeline to the girl.

"You know you can go say hi-"

Chan jumped not noticing the new presence slamming his hand over his heart. "Ah!-oh, hi...I dunno what you're talking about..." Brushing the comment off. Felix just raised a brow.

"You stand here and what...stare at her? Man, that's creepy- you wear a mask and a hat and go over. Say Hello"

Chan just shrugged. That was the thing with Bang Chan. With his life experience, the thing he never wanted was to be hurt like he was in the past. To suffer again the things he did getting here. There of course are other things, but when you are in this life it's far easier to make up stories about the driver, the barista, or grocery delivery person? Then to actually...know them. For then they could leave and you would be left alone. Parasocial relationships go both ways remember? So Chan for the first time in a while has had the time to look at the same girl and imagine. Imagine her life, why was she in Korea? Why did she always sing sad songs? Maybe she was a student and this is how she made extra money, or was stranded here and needed to find funds for a plane back home. Or just she liked singing.

So many questions and thoughts and contemplations on the idea of a person, a person he didn't know. While he and Felix went actually into the studio to work he couldn't get her off his mind.

~~

Y/n though was very busy at work. It was hard to get people to notice you when you're in a larger body. At least notice you for the right reasons, notice the voice, the talent (as if). Southeast Asia had the beauty standard of a pin and people paid millions of dollars to fit it. The clothes, the almost infantilization of women? 'Cutesy' shit that made her skin crawl, she could dress like an idol, speak the language fluently, get her hair done at those fancy salons that give you tea; wouldn't be enough. So Y/n decided not to participate. She would sing, play guitar, and let that be the reason she was content. Be understood and heard through music. A couple months out of the year she visited a cousin who lived in Busan for work. Taking a week or so to visit Seoul it was her mission to live. Experience everything she could. That included what she normally did back home, just...here. Where Y/n would sing in front of a Starbucks or a dunkin, or dutch bros really whatever mall adjacent location would allow her to get a set in. Finding a cafe who agreed to let her perform on their property she set up. She just knew this wasn't a hot spot for tourism so felt comfortable in her ignorance if someone made comments she wouldn't super be able to understand them.

So she sang. Song after song not noticing at all the peering eyes from the man a floor above her.

Where Chris was watching. Dreaming of what she sounded like when she laughed, if she had a boyfriend or if he really should say hi to her...fate would have to decide as the rest of 3racha filed into the studio.

And so.....fate did decide.

~too be continued

[flower-biter]

Sarah Russell’s tea room // Nathaniel Russell house, Charleston, South Carolina xx

[faithandarisadventures]

Arlington Antebellum Home and Gardens Birmingham, Alabama July 16, 2022

[3rdeyeblaque]

Today we venerate Hoodoo Saint Harriet Ross Tubman aka Black Moses on the 110th anniversary of her passing🕊

Whew! A legendary Freedom Fighter, Mama Moses wore many decorated crowns as a mammoth Abolitionist, chief Conductor on the Underground Railroad, an expert Hunte and Lumberjack, a Nurse, an armed scout & spy for the Union Army during the Civil War - becoming the 1st Woman to ever spearhead an armed military assault. Later, she opened her door to the elderly, sick, & disabled, and advocated for them until her death.

Born Araminta "Minty" Ross as the middle child of 9 siblings to enslaved parents on a plantation in Dorchester County, MD, she suffered a massive blow to the head that would spur a lifetime of seizures, headaches, deep slumbers, & visions. She went on to marry a "Free" man by the surname of Tubman & took on her mother's first given name, "Harriet". In 1849, her husband, parents, & siblings were set to be split up & sold off. Under the cover of darkness, she fled the plantation solo on foot and followed the North Star to escape the jaws of slavery by way of Philadelphia, PA. She'd survive13-19 rescue missions back into the Antebellum South, liberating over 300 souls, as the most infamous Conductor on the Underground Railroad who, over the span of a decade, had "never lost a single passenger", which dubbed her the nickname, "Moses". The bounty for her life maxed out at $40K. Freedom wasn't free & Mama Moses never hesitated to remind her passengers of that. She carried herbs to silence a crying baby and pulled a gun on any cowardly man who might give away their position.

"You'll be Free or Die. " - Mama Moses to her passengers on the Underground Railroad.

Venerated as a Hoodoo Saint to many, Mama Moses was a Seer, a Clairvoyant Dreamer, Dream Interpreter, a Revolutionary Conjurer Woman & Rootworker - born to parents of the same cloth. She received Divine messages & Ancestral knowledge/wisedom through prophetic visions & dreams. Mama Moses proudly attributed her unparalleled death defying success to her Divine guidance, Conjure, Rootwork, intuitive gifts & her faithful willingness to trust/follow them.

Folks have a tendency to grossly undermine, if not outright ignore, the significant pillars that Hoodoo Cosmology, Religion, & Tradition played in her life and in her fight for freedom. Recently, archeologists uncovered her "spirit cache" at her family's home in Maryland; these were some of the Blackbelt Hoodoo staples of her time including: glass bottles - for protection against evil spirits, a figurine made it iron nails - possibly a something akin to an Nkisi, a copper button, perfume bottle topper, and other red & blue items.

Mama Moses transitioned peaceful & free at her home/on her land in Auburn, NY where she is rests at the cemetery in Auburn, NY. She is still expected to be immortalized on the $20 bill USD, however that promise has yet to be met.

We pour libations & give Mama Moses her 💐 for her bravery & selfless service. May she bless the elderly, disabled, young, women, & Workers who seek/fight for freedom.

Offering suggestions: Milk, Apples, & Orange flowers

🌟 FINAL copies of The2023 Hoodoo's Calendar are available for purchase (once sold out, that's it)! Subscribe to the official e-newsletter for the latest updates & exclusive content access. https://thehoodoocalendar.square.site 🌟