VOICES bySharisse: A place to exhale

Before Juneteenth was a celebration, it was a waiting.

A waiting for news. A waiting for justice. A waiting for a freedom that had already been promised but had yet to arrive.

For generations of African Americans, freedom was not simply about the end of slavery. It was about something even more fundamental: the ability to exist safely. To gather without fear. To build community. To rest. To dream. To claim space in a country that had spent centuries denying them all of the above.

When enslaved people in Galveston, Texas, finally learned on June 19, 1865, that they were free, the announcement marked the end of one chapter. But it did not immediately create belonging. Freedom did not guarantee safety. It did not create places where Black families could fully exhale.

And yet, over time, those places began to emerge.

Long before Martha’s Vineyard became known as a summer destination, it became something far more meaningful to many African Americans: a refuge. That reality is at the heart of “Where They Still Remain,” an exhibition by Martha’s Vineyard–raised photographer, writer, and researcher Austin Bryant, whose work explores the intersections of African American and Wampanoag history on the Island through photography, archival images, and historical records.

“What I enjoyed learning about the most was the truth about our presence on the Island since its colonization,” Bryant said. “Whether we arrived in chains or as freedmen and freedwomen, African Americans carved out an existence on the Island.”

For Bryant, that history challenges many assumptions people hold about New England.

“I think people look at Massachusetts through rose-tinted glasses when it comes to enslavement and abolition,” he said. “In reality, the 19th and early 20th centuries were still a dangerous, difficult time for those fleeing enslavement or pursuing freedom on their own terms.”

Understanding that history makes the significance of Martha’s Vineyard even more profound. It challenges us to look beyond the familiar narrative. The story of Black Martha’s Vineyard did not begin with summer traditions; it began generations earlier, with people whose lives, labor, and experiences helped shape the fabric of the Island.

When I asked what made Martha’s Vineyard such a meaningful place for Black families, one theme surfaced repeatedly: Community.

Toni Kauffman, former president of the Martha’s Vineyard chapter of the NAACP and a longtime advocate for preserving Black history on the Island, reflected on the broader historical context.

“Research shows that in the mid-Fifties, because of Jim Crow laws, we were not allowed in other places of respite,” Kauffman said. “Honestly, we carefully and deliberately made our own places to retreat across the country.”

For many families, Martha’s Vineyard became one of those places. “There are many examples of family legacies on the Vineyard,” Kauffman said. “Through very intentional planning, some were even able to acquire property.”

As Black families continued to establish roots on the Island, community became more than a feeling. It became an institution.

Few organizations embody that legacy more than The Cottagers, Inc., founded 70 years ago by African American women committed to fellowship, civic engagement, and service. Today, the organization remains an important part of the Island’s Black history and community life.

“Black people found it a safe place, initially, and it was open to ownership too,” said Patricia Bush, president of The Cottagers.

“I think people of African American descent have always felt very comfortable here on the Island. It’s a safe space. And you just continue to invite your friends and family, and it evolved from that.”

For many families, that invitation became something lasting. “So many people that I’ve talked to, they come to visit somebody, and then they just fall in love and purchase their own home,” Bush said.

But access was not always straightforward.

“People did find it necessary to use different means to purchase in other areas than the Highlands, which was the area that was most noted,” explained historian, educator, and longtime Cottager Joanne Hyppolite Edey-Rhodes.

Even so, families found ways to build lives and legacies here. “It was a sacrifice,” she said. “It’s not that these people were rich. A lot of the families were professional families, but not all.”

For both women, preserving that legacy means more than maintaining property. “You couldn’t tell the story of Oak Bluffs without adding in the Cottagers and Cottagers’ Corner,” Edey-Rhodes said.

“We just don’t want to be the people that come there and enjoy,” Bush added. “We want to also make an impact in the community.”

That commitment to stewardship surfaced repeatedly throughout my conversations.

Heather Seger, executive director of the Martha’s Vineyard Museum, oversees the museum’s work to collect, preserve, and share the stories of communities whose histories have often been overlooked. Seger believes preserving Black history is ultimately about telling a fuller story of Martha’s Vineyard itself.

“Many people think of the Island as a playground for the wealthy elite,” Seger said. “But those of us who really love the Island know that the story is much more complicated than that.”

Through exhibitions, archival collections, oral histories, and community partnerships, the museum continues to preserve stories that might otherwise be lost to time. For Seger, that work is not simply about safeguarding artifacts. It is about ensuring future generations have access to a more complete understanding of the people and communities that shaped the Island.

“The Black history of the Island includes parts about enslavement and redlining and minstrel shows and segregation, along with parts that are about Black excellence and success and community building and resilience,” she said.

Bryant believes preserving those stories has become even more urgent today. “The past informs our future,” he said. “In a time where some are actively practicing historical erasure in the U.S., I believe it’s on us as individuals to keep the fire burning for future generations.”

For him, stewardship extends beyond preserving buildings or artifacts: “We need to carry our collective memory forward.”

His hope is that future generations understand both the refuge Martha’s Vineyard became and the histories that made that refuge possible.

“We need to connect summer visitors, who come here for refuge, to the depth of Black and Wampanoag history in this place that helped create the Eden we consider the Island to be,” Bryant said. “The more we see ourselves in each other across the lines of Black and Wampanoag communities, the more we can keep these stories alive.”

As Juneteenth celebrations continue to grow, Kauffman believes understanding the history behind the holiday remains essential.

“It sometimes surprises me that so many people have no idea of many historical facts,” she said. “But if it is not taught, and today we face erasure of history, only those who have those experiences understand how that history impacts us all.”

“It wasn’t that the Emancipation Proclamation was not known to the state of Texas,” she added. “Economics kept our ancestors enslaved. It took federal troops to emancipate them.”

And perhaps that is what Juneteenth asks of us now. Not simply to celebrate freedom, but to honor those who transformed freedom into something tangible. A home. A community. A tradition. A gathering place. A legacy.

The people who came before us did more than arrive here. They built something.

The question now is whether we are willing not only to enjoy what was built, but to understand it, honor it, and carry it forward.