A good origin story isn’t just for comic book characters. History has its fair share of such stories, and I’ve stumbled headfirst into one of my very own.

Seven months ago over Instagram meanderings and soap, I met a fellow historian. She had posted a picture of jasmine scented soap that literally looked like a slice of cake. Who doesn’t want to bathe in something that smells like heaven and looks like a seven year old’s birthday dream? So I asked if she was willing to sell some to me. She said sure, and just like that I trotted over to her century home to make a purchase. I had no idea that would lead to a project of such magnitude and import, and I am eternally grateful (thanks Erin!).

We spent an hour or more discussing history; projects I had worked on, projects she had worked on, settling finally on a completely riveting story she had researched concerning the family who lived in her home and served the community for decades. Herbert Hill owned and operated a funeral home in Liberty, Missouri. He had in his employ an African-American woman named Kate Atchison who was a part of his family for many years. Erin and I went to our local cemetery to find the grave of Kate’s husband a few days later, but with no luck. Almost at the same moment we looked at one another; she said “I wonder if this cemetery was…”. I finished her sentence; “Segregated”. This is where the story begins.

Well over 1,000 hours of research later, we now know that the cemetery was indeed segregated. The burial grounds themselves date well before emancipation times, and a great many generations of our city’s pioneering black community are buried there with nothing to mark or commemorate their final resting place. Over 500 burials, and counting. Civil war vets, business leaders, school children, ministers, teachers - people whose stories have shaped our community. Last week while on a trip to the cemetery with a descendent of one of these families, I learned that my search had not extended far enough and that there is now an entirely new section, easily over an acre and a half to be included and considered. To say I feel the weight of the dead on my shoulders cannot even begin to cover the depth of emotion I carry concerning this project.

Efforts are well underway to not only discover those whose final resting place is this hallowed piece of ground, but most importantly to tell the stories of their lives. While my privileged 2018 white-girl heart feels sickened by the injustice of it all, I daily uncover the most astonishing information. So much so, that I know I have only begun to know the meaning of strength, beauty and perseverance. I want to know everything I can about the people who built the community I have called home. I want to know their faces, their families, what they did for a living and most of all the reasons why they chose to call this place home too.

I am reaching out to the city and the community at large with an open invitation to take part in the discovery of these stories. To help in whatever way they feel led; with research, on a task force, a preservation group, or reaching out to descendants. There is a place for everyone. Yes, eventually I would like to see them commemorated with a monument. For now, the job is to follow the best practices we can as a community. This includes a great deal more primary resource research, non-invasive methods like ground penetrating radar to literally see how far back the burials go within the cemetery, and education on how to properly preserve the existing markers.

Someone recently said to me of this project “you know, research is a sickness". I suspect this is true for many people who may be unwilling to take on the burden of digging up history. It is, after all, a very sticky sort of business especially in the case of race. 175 years of history cannot be uncovered in a day. I would say in response to that statement that to be ill-informed of something’s history is to continue to perpetuate the myth of Liberty for all. How can we begin to change our world view if we ignore what has happened in our own back yard? Is there a time limit on indifference? When we close our history books and turn a blind eye to social injustice it leads to multiple generations of ignorance. I research on a weekly basis with amazing individuals in my city who diligently volunteer countless hours to preserve and uncover history. They do this because it leaves a blueprint of understanding that is critical for our advancement. I am grateful for them and the work they do.

I am excited to begin to share the progress on this project. On my evening agenda is the creation of several social media accounts that feature the stories of these incredible community builders. What a joy it will be to see these souls given the same treatment in their deaths as their white counterparts. What an even bigger joy it will be to tell their stories, and what a legacy my community will be leaving by getting involved in matters that effect the WHOLE of us, not just the SOME of us.

Thank you Katie May for an origin story that is fit for a movie. I feel your presence in the land of Liberty. It fuels me and uplifts me. I hope to be part of your legacy. I’m still digging!