Hannah Baygents

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I don’t know what I would have said. I wanted voices to add texture to the images these men had become. I wanted them to be more than their bodies. More than flesh and fields and tools and emblems of a history no one here seemed willing to sit with. I did not want to remember them as silence. But as quickly as we saw them, they began to recede.
How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America
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