Holly Springs, Miss., a city of 7,000 residents, lies 56 miles southeast of Memphis. It was evvel a lively center of the cotton trade, and as I recently learned from a newfound cousin, it is also where my enslaved ancestors lived.
When I was a child, I knew my great-grandfather on my mother’s side, and I have decades of memories, stories and photographic evidence of my Jewish maternal family. My Black paternal family has always been more of a mystery. I’ve never known my father, so I was thrilled when several years ago I obtained a family tree that dates back to 1824 — and even more excited when my cousin claimed to know specifically where our ancestors had lived.
On a recent business trip to Memphis, I flew in early so that I could explore Holly Springs in search of my ancestral home. My first stop was City Hall, where I tried, to no avail, to find relevant public records. Then I met up with Jamie, a friend who lived in the area, and we set out on a drive.
I was hoping my cousin would text me with more detail, but my phone remained quiet. Through the car window I kept seeing signs for a local tourist attraction, the Ida B. Wells Museum. Soon we passed a small building that had a sign out front reading, simply, “Museum.”
We got out of the car and walked toward the entryway. From inside, a voice belted out an inquisitive hello. Bright sunlight filled the tall windows, illuminating a layer of dust on the glass countertops. The silence of the place made it feel more like a private home than a museum.
In a city with a majority Black population, and in a museum dedicated to its most celebrated figure — the Black educator and journalist Ida B. Wells — I was surprised to find that the proprietor was a white man. Then I scolded myself, attempting to shake off my New York City biases, and I jumped into my well-rehearsed mission statement.
