"The origins of the Gullah language and culture can be traced to the castles and forts along the West African coast where captured Africans awaited transport into slavery in the West Indies and America. This distinctive Creole language and culture later took root and thrived among enslaved Africans in the West Indies and on the isolated Sea Islands of South Carolina and Georgia"--Page 4 of cover

The 1619 Project’s lyrical picture book in verse chronicles the consequences of slavery and the history of Black resistance in the United States, thoughtfully rendered by Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones and Newbery honor-winning author Renée Watson. A young student receives a family tree assignment in school, but she can only trace back three generations. Grandma gathers the whole family, and the student learns that 400 years ago, in 1619, their ancestors were stolen and brought to America by white slave traders. But before that, they had a home, a land, a language. She learns how the people said to be born on the water survived. And the people planted dreams and hope, willed themselves to keep living, living. And the people learned new words for love for friend for family for joy for grow for home. With powerful verse and striking illustrations by Nikkolas Smith, Born on the Water provides a pathway for readers of all ages to reflect on the origins of American identity.

On Nov. 28, 1858, a ship called the Wanderer slipped silently into a coastal channel and unloaded a cargo of over 400 African slaves onto Jekyll Island, Georgia, fifty years after the African slave trade had been made illegal. It was the last ship ever to bring a cargo of African slaves to American soil. The Wanderer began life as a luxury racing yacht, but within a year was secretly converted into a slave ship, and--using the pennant of the New York Yacht Club as a diversion--sailed off to Africa. More than a slaving venture, her journey defied the federal government and hurried the nation's descent into civil war. The New York Times first reported the story as a hoax; as groups of Africans began to appear in the small towns surrounding Savannah, however, the story of the Wanderer began to leak out, igniting a fire of protest and debate that made headlines throughout the nation and across the Atlantic. As the story shifts from New York City to Charleston, to the Congo River, Jekyll Island and finally Savannah, the Wanderer's tale is played out in the slave markets of Africa, the offices of the New York Times, heated Southern courtrooms, The White House, and some of the most charming homes Southern royalty had to offer. In a gripping account of the high seas and the high life in New York and Savannah, Erik Calonius brings to light one of the most important and little remembered stories of the Civil War period.

Between 1820 and 1913, approximately 16,000 black people left the United States to start new lives in Liberia, Africa, in what was at the time the largest out-migration in US history. When Tolbert Major, a former Kentucky slave and single father, was offered his own chance for freedom, he accepted. He, several family members, and seventy other people boarded the Luna on July 5, 1836. After they arrived in Liberia, Tolbert penned a letter to his former owner, Ben Major: "Dear Sir, We have all landed on the shores of Africa and got into our houses.... None of us have been taken with the fever yet." Drawing on extensive research and fifteen years' worth of surviving letters, author Susan E. Lindsey illuminates the trials and triumphs of building a new life in Liberia, where settlers were free, but struggled to acclimate themselves to an unfamiliar land, coexist with indigenous groups, and overcome disease and other dangers. Liberty Brought Us Here: The True Story of American Slaves Who Migrated to Liberia explores the motives and attitudes of colonization supporters and those who lived in the colony, offering perspectives beyond the standard narrative that colonization was driven solely by racism or forced exile.

Thousands of newcomers are pouring into Alberta from around the globe, bringing unexpected gifts. Many are writers and storytellers. What pulls them to Canada? What happens to them on the journey? What experiences have they deliberately left behind? What treasures do they bring? How do they describe their emerging sense of place and their creative aspirations in a new home? In this moving collection of stories and poems, writers from around the world share their thoughts on creating a life in Alberta. Expressed with beauty and clarity, and sometimes translated from the writer's native tongue, these very personal accounts of joy and sadness, regret and humour, homesickness and exuberance, describe the defining moments of a departure and an arrival. Contributors to The Story That Brought Me Here include Jalal Barzanji, Edmonton's first Writers in Exile; Rita Espeschit, Thuc Cong, Mohammed Al-Nassar, Monika Igali, Sabah Tahir, Therezinha Franca Kennedy, Sangmok Lee, Sudhir Jain, Yi Li, Athiann Makuach Garang, Marsh Hoke, Tortor Maruku, Reinekke Lengelle, Brian Brennan, A.K. Rashid, June Smith-Jeffries, Magdalena Witkowsky, Anna Mioduchowska, Ikponwosa I.K. Ero and Comfort Adesuwa Ero, Wilma Rubens, Patricia Lopez de Vloothduis, Neung-jae Park Mary Cavill, Mansoor Ladha, Chantal Hitayezu and many others. With photographs by Shabnam Sukhdev.

A powerful oral history of modern day revolutionary Argentina. The social movements, neighborhood assemblies, and occupied factories.

A dynamic kaleidoscope of story that honors the work of women. Kin is a story and a celebration of Black womanhood, of resistance, and of perseverance—while simultaneously an indictment of American history. Kin is a tree—alive in places, broken in others—that offers shelter for women seeking respite in the midst of family-making. This tree depicts family grafted together by blood, law, or choice; its stories are voiced through blues-infused poetry, one-act plays, oral history, and reportage that are combined to form an orchestra of Black history and re-memory. Centered on the labor of women, the movement of women through lives and time, and the work of building associations that make up the home, this book takes up the rhythms and multifarious forms of its inspiration, Cane, the 1923 novel by Jean Toomer. The roots from which it all grows are the ancestors who ensure from the spirit realm that the family remains grounded and verdant, despite the manifold threats to its health and well-being. Kin is a tribute to forebearers, a beacon to those calling homes into being, and a strata of stories for children not yet born.