I'm a Northerner. There's nothing wrong with that, and I am completely proud of that fact. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio. My mother was born in Cleveland, Ohio. My grandmother was born in Cleveland, Ohio. We've been here for a while.
But my great grandfather was from the South. He was born and raised in Nottoway County, Virginia, and worked his way north to Cleveland during the Great Migration, sometime between 1915 and 1920. Our family still owns farmland in Darvills, Virginia, in Dinwiddie County. My mother spent her summers growing up in Darvills, and I spent parts of some summers there too. As a youth, those few times on the farm consisted of messing with the livestock, playing in the white sand that lined the drive, and gazing at the stars that were nearly impossible to see from my home in Cleveland.
This is what the South represented to me as a child, and even into my teens. The South represented the country; open spaces with horses and bulls, bugs and stars, fresh air, and no TV. It wasn't until I got a little older that I began to realize and really understand the darker side of the South. When I began to understand the South's history of racism, of segregation and slavery, it confused me. How could the place I loved so much as a young kid have such a dark past? I was even more shocked when I learned that these things were still going on.
Despite it's history, the South is still a vibrant and beautiful place, brimming with history. I rediscovered this in Itta Bena, Mississippi, visiting with friends who showed me everything I loved about the family home in Virginia. The small towns filled with friendly people that sprung up around the railroads, the vast fields filled with the ghosts of our ancestors. And of course, the stars.
I spent a few hours in Itta Bena during my visit taking photos and walking through the historic town. It felt familiar, and at the same time alien; looking both eerily similar to the towns I knew from Virginia and completely different in a way I couldn't quite identify...and still can't. I found myself at a loss for words; feeling both at home and lost. The town square posited around a railroad line with shops that looked as though their doors hadn't been opened in close to a century. Warmth radiating from both the Southern sun and Southern black folks who didn't need an introduction to smile and wave.
At the time I didn't know that these photos would form a project, or that this project would be part one in a series. These were both decisions I made towards the end of my trip while reviewing the images I captured. I made the decision, with help and encouragement from friends, to continue this series each time I travel into the South whether it's to a larger city like Atlanta, or a small town like Itta Bena or Darvills. My photos from Itta Bena simply represented what I saw; future installments will include essays and interviews. This is the first installment of In The South: Itta Bena, Mississippi.
