Recently, my family took a trip to Charleston, South Carolina. Charleston is beautiful and haunted, with a plethora of amazing foods and attractive homes. Church steeples pepper the skyline, a sign of the history of faith existing alongside the beautiful and haunted. The town oozes with history, some of which is difficult to think about when enjoying a family vacation.
One morning, as we rode the ferry to Fort Sumter, my brain flooded with thoughts and questions about our visit. I am not a historian. I have never been great at memorizing names, places and dates.
To be honest, I didn’t want to go. The thought of the war, death and oppression associated with the historic site didn’t seem a great way to spend a family Thanksgiving trip.
As a southerner, I have realized that the history often taught and preserved is not the entire story. I was taught national and Southern history from the bias of whiteness and privilege. The stories of the oppressed were often hidden and ignored.
In many ways, the history told in the South has not changed, but I have.
Against my gut feelings, I stepped off the boat and walked with my family into the fort. There was something heavy about visiting a landmark with such history.
As we walked the site, my 6-year-old daughter asked many questions, including, “Why did they shoot the cannons?” My husband responded with something like, “People wanted to take over the fort.”
As I sought to reflect before answering, knowing everything stirring in my mind and heart, I said out loud, “Power.” As I looked at the crumbling walls of the fort, I could not help but reflect on the destruction that came with the quest for power.
I have visited this fort before. However, the two park rangers on this trip caught my attention with the stories they chose to share.
One shared some of the history of the American flag that flies above the fort, emphasizing the symbolic nature of flags, including the Confederate flag, pointing out its connection to racism. Another park ranger told the story of fingerprints in the bricks.
This ranger led a small group to a few fingerprints impressed on the bricks. She shared that most of the bricks for the fort were constructed by people who were enslaved and imprisoned. The bricks were primarily made by the young, elderly and disabled, as the more abled were used to do the “hard” labor.
Children as young as five were tasked with making the bricks, thousands a day, to construct the fort. The ranger explained that many fingerprints had been discovered around the fort, most likely left when the workers flipped the bricks, leaving the trace of their fingerprints.
As we looked closer at the bricks, I was shocked. The fingerprints in the brick were not much larger than the fingers of my 6-year-old daughter.
These fingerprints represented people who were oppressed, enslaved and imprisoned, tasked with creating pieces of a fort that would, at times throughout history, be used to uphold and protect their oppression. However, these fingerprints also represented beloved children of God.
Unfortunately, during their time of brick making, they were not viewed as equal children of God, but the least of these.
The ugly parts of history are not fun. They are heavy and messy.
As a southern white woman, I struggle with history connected to my own story. However, I appreciate those who seek to bring to light the stories of the marginalized within the narrative.
I am thankful for the park rangers who only have time to summarize the story but take the time to turn to focus from the men and actions of power to remind visitors of the fingerprints and stories of the people pushed to the crevasses of the story.
I was challenged to look for the stories behind the battles and numbers. I was able to see the stories of people who were oppressed.
And I needed this perspective. I needed the history of this fort to break my heart and rattle my mind.
As a southern woman of faith, I need to be reminded of this history to press hard for a different future. My faith gives me hope for reconciliation.
It pushes me to be a person, like Jesus and these park rangers, who stands for all people, because God is in the fingerprints of us all.
Rev. Dr. Sarah Boberg is the Assistant Professor of Christian Education at Campbell University Divinity School. She also serves as the Director of Empowering Families for Spiritual Formation, a Lilly Endowment Parenting and Caregiving Initiative. Prior to serving on faculty at Campbell, Sarah served over 15 years in congregational ministry. Sarah is married to Rev. Bradley Boberg and has two beautiful daughters, Scarlet and Lydia. In her free time, Sarah enjoys music, dancing, and vacations to Disney World.
