Bearing Witness, Genealogy Research

A Tale of 2 Grandmothers (Part 2 – Edna Baker)

Paternal Grandparents (early years)This post is a part of a two part blogging series that talks about both my grandmothers’ migration from rural communities to Baltimore city. I explore their experiences living in their birth communities and what may have been the impetus behind their moving to Baltimore, where they subsequently married and had children, including my parents. I also explore what their lives were like once they moved to the city.

The first post was about my maternal grandmother, Mary Smith, who migrated to Baltimore from Upper Marlboro, MD (see post dated, August 6, 2018) and this post is about my paternal grandmother, Edna Baker, whose family migrated from Saluda, VA. These posts, like all of my research, are ongoing and I am still exploring the answers to the questions that I have about their migration.

Edna Baker Redding

If there is anyone in my research that I daydream about, it is Edna Baker Redding, and that is mostly because I was robbed of the opportunity of knowing her. My grandmother, Edna, died in my father’s arms as they were taking her to Johns Hopkins Hospital long before I was born and shortly after my parents married. I first saw a picture of her a few years ago and I was struck by her beauty, a beauty that I see in many of my cousins, her grandchildren. I rely on my father and his siblings to tell me stories about her. Without a doubt, they loved their mother and more importantly, they felt loved by her as well.

Unlike my maternal grandmother, Mary, who moved to Baltimore with just her cousin, Edna moved to Baltimore with her entire family. The Census Record indicates that, by 1920, Edna’s parents, John and Anna Jane Baker, moved their family from Saluda (Middlesex County), VA to Baltimore to live. Although both John and Anna Janes’ family roots were in Virginia, there were a number of cousins from back home who had also migrated to Baltimore as well. Edna was 12 years old in 1920 and was probably amazed by the unending rows of houses that Baltimore offered, compared to rural Saluda.

She and her family often made trips to Saluda and neighboring Gloucester County, VA over the years. Their frequent trips back to Virginia make me believe that they did not leave the area because they were running from something as black folks sometimes were when they migrated. On the contrary, they seemed to be running toward the opportunities they believed Baltimore could offer them. Virginia was still home to Edna, and my father recalls the many trips his family would take with their mother on a steam boat from Baltimore’s Inner Harbor to what is called the Tidewater, VA area.

By 1930, my grandmother is listed in the Census as living on Ashland Avenue in Baltimore and married at 17 years old to my grandfather, Charles Redding. Together, they lived in this house with her father and sister, her father-in-law, and her two children, Charles and Doris. By all accounts, she insisted that her family attend church and raised her children in the Baptist church just as she was raised Baptist in Virginia. To this day, many of my family members still attend Faith Baptist Church in Baltimore.

I never got a chance to know my grandmother, Edna because breast cancer took her life. All I have are the memories my father and his siblings share, and a deep longing to know her more.

Note: The original post was erroneously uploaded. So, this is the 9am version. My apologies.

Documentation, Storytelling

Working the Documents and the Stories Together

Aunt Julia and Grandmother
My grandmother, Mary, and her aunt, Julia, circa 1980 (Upper Marlboro, MD)

I cannot begin to tell you how much I get on my mother’s nerves, asking her questions about our family. At times, I am sure, it must feel as if I am asking her the same questions over and over again. What I have learned is that, how I ask questions matter in what my mother actually remembers. That’s how memory works, and so I ask often and in different ways.

As important as documentation is to our research, so are the verbal conversations we have with our family members. The two work together. We need to understand that memory is not always reliable and neither are the documents that we use in our  research.

As far as documentation is concerned, when considering the U.S. Census Records, for example, the person recording your family’s information could have made mistakes, answered questions based on their own judgment, misunderstood the information being conveyed, along with many other possibilities. This is what explains how our family members may be “B” (Black) in one record and “Mu” (Mulatto) in another. Too often, recorders simply observed a person and made a judgment call on their race or any other category.

Equally as important to this scenario is the person being interviewed for the Census record. Too often, the person answering the door was interviewed even though they may not have known all of the answers to the questions being asked. They also could have been skeptical of the interviewer and chose not to respond truthfully to protect themselves or their family. To be honest, black folks were not always trusting of random people showing up to their doors asking them questions about their lives, especially when those random people were white. They could have had a perfectly good reason for not telling the truth in an America that forced them to confront racial injustice on a daily basis.

These are just a few reasons why it becomes important for family researchers to balance family stories with the documentation we use in our research.

Using Verbal History with Documentation

The following experience I had with my family research exemplifies why it is important to examine both the oral history and the documentation together.

So, my mother always talks about my grandmother’s “Aunt Julia,” who my grandmother was very close to. I have several pictures of my grandmother and Aunt Julia that my grandmother had in her photo album. The two look alike, in fact. My mother informed me that Aunt Julia was my great grandmother, Effie’s sister. After poring over census records, I could not find Julia Adams anywhere.

Butler Family.jpg
Top and middle rows: Various cousins (identity uncertain); 1st row (seated): Mary, my grandmother; her sister, Roberta; and Aunt Julia, circa 1980 (Upper Marlboro, MD)

After searching for Aunt Julia for years, I declared that Julia Adams may not have been the daughter of my great-great grand parents John Quincy Adams (not the president) and Rachel Adams. This was a conundrum to me, and I could not figure out how they were related. They did share the same last name and lived in the same area, so  maybe they were related in a way that was different from what we originally anticipated. Perhaps they were just cousins.

Once, while talking to my mom, I said, “Maybe Aunt Julia was a ‘play aunt’ or maybe they weren’t really related at all.” My mother proceeded to roll her eyes at me and look at my research in skepticism. She responded, “I don’t care what that paper says, mama called Julia her aunt and I believe that’s who she is! Besides, she and mama looked just alike.” Because my mother was so adamant, I decided to consider other possibilities.

Our work oftentimes requires us to think creatively to discover the answers to questions that are now buried with our ancestors, so I tried another approach: I created another tree that I labeled, “experimental” and I made it private, so others could not see what I was working on (Note: I only make public, trees that I feel pretty confident about because I don’t want to contribute to a body of false information, especially regarding my own family). I then started a tree with Julia Adams as my primary person of research. Although I couldn’t confirm that Julia and Effie were sisters, we knew they had the same last name.

Adams genealogy tree w highlights
Rachel married both John Quincy Adams and Arcenous James Adams. They are identified in the red square above. Source: My family tree.

What I discovered is a census record that indicated Rachel as Aunt Julia’s mother, but to my surprise, John Quincy Adams was not her father. Another “Adams” was, though. His name was Arcenous James Adams (or, James Arcenous Adams in some records). I am still searching for a divorce record for Rachel and John, but I believe I found him in another census record, married to another woman. They both seemed to have moved on and had children by their new partners.

My great grandmother, Effie, was the only child that John and Rachel Adams had together, but they both went on to have other children. Rachel gave birth to Julia around 1893 with Arcenous Adams, according to the 1910 Census record. What this lesson taught me is that oral narratives are as important to understanding the overall picture of our family’s lives as the documentation. We need them to validate each other, and too often, we are only going to have one or the other to rely on. But, when we have them both, we must not be so rigid that we are unwilling to use both to make sense of the whole.

Updated last paragraph on 8/20/18 at 11:26pm to make clear that Effie and Julia were indeed sisters, making her my grandmother’s aunt.


Bearing Witness to Our Stories

“We are the children of those who chose to survive.” –Nana Poussaint, Daughters of the Dust

cropped-bearing-witness-logo211.jpgI am a storyteller who also loves reading and listening to great stories. My favorite writers, who I am sure to invoke in a post at some point on this blog, are writers who weave narratives as if they are weaving them with the care of a loom. That’s how I hope to care for my family’s narratives. Some of the stories I cherish most were passed on to me by those still living, while others have been passed on to me over the years by those who have since joined the ancestors.

These are the stories that personalize the history of slavery, lynching, and Jim Crow that so many of us read about in books. These are the stories that humanize the names in census records and other formal documents, making the records more than a list of people residing together in a home on a particular street. Unfortunately, humanizing black people’s experiences has been a necessary part of our journey since we arrived on these American shores.

What I value most about these stories is how they convey the joy, the love, the fear, and the hopefulness and resilience of family members who survived a system of human bondage (whether they were “free” or enslaved), family members who survived racial segregation and violence in the mid-Atlantic states of Maryland/Virginia, and family who survived acts of gender inequity and gender violence. They navigated their way through these oppressive systems all while working to provide their children and their children’s children opportunities that they never imagined for themselves.

As Nana Poussaint declared in Daughters of the Dust, “we are the children of those who chose to survive,” and as the daughter of my grandparents — Mary and James, Edna and Charles — and all of my aunts and uncles who chose to survive, I strive to keep their narratives of survival alive.

This blog, Bearing Witness to Our Stories: Sharing Family History and Genealogical Research, welcomes you to journey with me as I discover the lives of so many who came before me. I imagine this blog as a space for readers to converse about their family history and their experiences researching that history.

My goal is to share with you some of the resources I have come across and I welcome conversations with you, my readers, where I learn from you some of the resources or tactics you find helpful.

Please take some time to peruse the blog for some of the resources I listed. Also, I have listed my family’s surnames and geographical areas of research. You can expect two posts a month (every 1st and 3rd Monday) from me and the occasional post in between whenever I feel so inspired. I look forward to sharing my research with you.

Look out for my first post next Monday, August 6.