Of the Land
A short critical essay for an Environmental Justice/Indigenous Studies class:
I’ve thought a lot about what it means to be “of the land.” Here in the big city, I find myself thinking a lot about the land I grew up on. I dream of it, long for it, and only truly feel at peace when I return to it. It’s like all of the noise slips away when I am deep in the woods I grew up in, sitting on that sacred hill overlooking the joining of three streams. I think you can, over time, develop connections with other places that you spend a significant amount of time in, but it will never be quite as significant as the land you were raised on. I only moved away from this land four years ago.
Since the age of five I lived in an intentional conservation community in the rural outskirts of Clarke County in Athens, Georgia. Named for the white family who maintained the 132 acres as a cotton farm in the century following the Creek nation's removal, Kenney Ridge Community was started in 1993 by a small group of people who bought the stolen land from the local government and then sold off two and five-acre segments to people who were interested in their community vision. The land has, of course, changed over time, yet it has also retained its history in a very visible way for those who know where to look. To walk through the hardwood/pine woods that have replaced the Piedmont Prairies which once dominated the landscape is to tour the land’s many pasts. I see it’s story in the terraced hills covered by fallen leaves – evidence of the Kenny’s farming practices. My dad once contacted the Native American Studies department at our local university to inquire about the presence of several curious mounds in the woods. He had read in a history book that these mounds were sometimes located at the joining of waterways, which sometimes acted as meeting spots for tribes. Amateur archaeology like this can be a way of engaging with the past but it also creates space for historical biases and wishful thinking. This bit of history in particular will have to remain a mystery to us, as the professor he contacted declined to come out and look further into the matter. He said any Indigenous significance was unlikely.
I’ve come to believe that to be in relationship with colonized land you have to seek connection with its history. This task requires time, curiosity and not an insignificant amount of humility over having swallowed all of the lies and omissions your whole life. Whole families and communities were interrupted by settler colonialism. What connection would and do those families’ ancestors have with this land today? We learned about James Oglethorpe, Georgia’s first governor, in my elementary school of the same name. No mention that I can remember of the Oconee War, which led to the end of the tradition of coexistence between the settlers and the Creeks. The Athens Clarke County Government has a brief section on land stewardship on its webpage but no land acknowledgement on its site or within the historical timeline of the county, which only goes back to Oglethorpe’s founding. They end the rather brief four paragraphs by saying that the high accessibility to water sources in what is now Athens Clarke County is what drew European settlers to the area, casting an almost idyllic glow around the European settlements. Yet again, they gloss over a series of treaties and the Indian Removal Act of 1830 which were reinterpreted by the Georgia government and backed by Andrew Jackson to support the tribes displacement.
The university, whose opening was delayed due to the ongoing Oconee War and who opted to use as their school colors the same colors as the Creek colors of war, has more resources on the land's storied past than the municipal government. The research is quite recent though, suggesting outside pressures to keep up with the times. Had history been different, this sacred land of bloodshed and war might have stayed in the hands of those who tended it before the settlers came. I would have grown up with a connection to land in Europe or elsewhere. Neither people nor the earth are static though, and we have all responded to changing conditions throughout the course of history. Wondering and imagining is not a fruitful endeavor. How does the past influence how we live on the land today? That is a more productive line of thinking.
I’ve thought a lot about what it means to be “of the land.” Here in the big city, I find myself thinking a lot about the land I grew up on. I dream of it, long for it, and only truly feel at peace when I return to it. It’s like all of the noise slips away when I am deep in the woods I grew up in, sitting on that sacred hill overlooking the joining of three streams. I think you can, over time, develop connections with other places that you spend a significant amount of time in, but it will never be quite as significant as the land you were raised on. I only moved away from this land four years ago.
Since the age of five I lived in an intentional conservation community in the rural outskirts of Clarke County in Athens, Georgia. Named for the white family who maintained the 132 acres as a cotton farm in the century following the Creek nation's removal, Kenney Ridge Community was started in 1993 by a small group of people who bought the stolen land from the local government and then sold off two and five-acre segments to people who were interested in their community vision. The land has, of course, changed over time, yet it has also retained its history in a very visible way for those who know where to look. To walk through the hardwood/pine woods that have replaced the Piedmont Prairies which once dominated the landscape is to tour the land’s many pasts. I see it’s story in the terraced hills covered by fallen leaves – evidence of the Kenny’s farming practices. My dad once contacted the Native American Studies department at our local university to inquire about the presence of several curious mounds in the woods. He had read in a history book that these mounds were sometimes located at the joining of waterways, which sometimes acted as meeting spots for tribes. Amateur archaeology like this can be a way of engaging with the past but it also creates space for historical biases and wishful thinking. This bit of history in particular will have to remain a mystery to us, as the professor he contacted declined to come out and look further into the matter. He said any Indigenous significance was unlikely.
I’ve come to believe that to be in relationship with colonized land you have to seek connection with its history. This task requires time, curiosity and not an insignificant amount of humility over having swallowed all of the lies and omissions your whole life. Whole families and communities were interrupted by settler colonialism. What connection would and do those families’ ancestors have with this land today? We learned about James Oglethorpe, Georgia’s first governor, in my elementary school of the same name. No mention that I can remember of the Oconee War, which led to the end of the tradition of coexistence between the settlers and the Creeks. The Athens Clarke County Government has a brief section on land stewardship on its webpage but no land acknowledgement on its site or within the historical timeline of the county, which only goes back to Oglethorpe’s founding. They end the rather brief four paragraphs by saying that the high accessibility to water sources in what is now Athens Clarke County is what drew European settlers to the area, casting an almost idyllic glow around the European settlements. Yet again, they gloss over a series of treaties and the Indian Removal Act of 1830 which were reinterpreted by the Georgia government and backed by Andrew Jackson to support the tribes displacement.
The university, whose opening was delayed due to the ongoing Oconee War and who opted to use as their school colors the same colors as the Creek colors of war, has more resources on the land's storied past than the municipal government. The research is quite recent though, suggesting outside pressures to keep up with the times. Had history been different, this sacred land of bloodshed and war might have stayed in the hands of those who tended it before the settlers came. I would have grown up with a connection to land in Europe or elsewhere. Neither people nor the earth are static though, and we have all responded to changing conditions throughout the course of history. Wondering and imagining is not a fruitful endeavor. How does the past influence how we live on the land today? That is a more productive line of thinking.
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