Walking Through History: The Complexity of Working in Historic Spaces

History was a major factor in the many things that drew me to this residency and this region. With ancestral ties to Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virginia, coming to South Carolina felt like an opportunity to connect with and better understand Southeastern Black history.
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Having previously worked at the Black Archives of Mid-America in Kansas City and on the historic land where the Story Center at Mid-Continent Public Library now stands, I was already familiar with what it means to engage with complicated histories. So when I accepted my position at Clemson University, I knew I would have to confront its own history—one rooted in the legacy of plantations and the forced labor of enslaved people. I took this reality seriously, and one of the standout moments of my interview was the Special Collections & Archives team’s transparency about Clemson’s history. Their honesty surprised me, but it also made me want to investigate further.

Stepping Into the Past: Visiting Clemson’s Plantation Houses
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The South is one of those places where you rarely have to second-guess where people stand on things—they’ll tell you outright. Similarly, there are places where you just know you may not be entirely welcome.

For many black folks, those places are plantation houses. At Clemson,  Fort Hill, The Hanover House, and Hopewell are houses that most Black folks avoid entirely. I like to experience history, and I was curious to see the houses and how the histories were presented.

I visited all three in a single day.

​Walking into those spaces, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of history pressing down on me. The air was thick with stories, both spoken and unspoken. The structures, the artifacts, even the layout of the homes—they all carried traces of a past where Black lives were treated as property, where labor was stolen, and where entire generations endured unimaginable hardships.

It was fascinating to hear the history, to step into these preserved moments in time, and to observe how these narratives were being presented and cared for. But I won’t romanticize it—it was emotionally exhausting. Holding an artifact that black children were forced to use to pound for hours on end almost made me sick to my stomach. Engaging with history intimately, especially when it involves the suffering and resilience of people who could have been my ancestors, takes a toll.

When I left the last site, I was drained. I needed to practice self-care—to sit with what I had just experienced, process, and breathe.

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The Weight of Working in Historic Spaces

This visit deepened my understanding of what it means to work at Clemson—a place that was once a plantation, and before that, home to Indigenous tribes. It’s a reality that I think about often in my work as a librarian, archivist, and educator.  How do I honor this history while contributing to the future of this institution?

 There’s often an unspoken expectation in academia that we "intellectualize" history, analyzing it from a distance. But for me, it’s personal. My work isn’t just about preserving the past; it’s about giving voice to those silenced, ensuring that historical narratives aren’t just told through the lens of those in power. It’s about creating space for Black history—not just in February, but all year round.
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I’ve realized that working in a historic space doesn’t mean accepting its history at face value—it means questioning, researching, and actively contributing to a more honest and inclusive narrative. It means advocating for programming, archives, and resources that center Black voices and stories.

Moving Forward with Purpose

​I don’t regret visiting those plantation houses. If anything, it reaffirmed my commitment to my work. But it also reminded me of the emotional labor involved in engaging deeply with history—especially as a Black professional in predominantly white institutions.

For those who do this work, balancing learning with self-preservation is essential. Some days, that means stepping into complex spaces to bear witness. On other days, that means stepping away to protect your well-being. Both are necessary.

As I continue my journey at Clemson, I remain committed to telling the whole story, fostering discussions that challenge incomplete narratives, and ensuring that libraries and archives don’t just store history—they confront it, engage with it, and make it accessible for all.

Sources:

Congress, Library of. “Hanover Plantation – Lake Moultrie – Berkeley County.” Hanover Plantation - Lake Moultrie, Berkeley County, South Carolina SC, 2024, south-carolina-plantations.com/berkeley/hanover.html.


University, Clemson. Historic Properties | Clemson University, South Carolina, 2025, www.clemson.edu/about/history/properties/. ​