Good-bye Dear Reader

I returned to some heart-wrenching news. My son Ben had embarked on a whaling voyage as a result of his abuse from his fellow apprentices when they found out that he was colored. I have left them alone too many times and am now reaping what I have sowed. But he is now with my brother William in California.

I received a letter from Emily Flint, Dr. Flints daughter. It begrudges me that they still keep tabs on me at all! But at least I am safe in Boston.

It has been two years since I have been in Boston, Ellen is going off to boarding school. And I will be so lonesome with out her. Just as I will be lonesome without you my dear readers. For I am trying to write a book, and if you enjoyed the few ramblings that I have managed to share with you then please feel free to take a look at it, if it ever happens.

Dr. Flint was on my trail for awhile but I have heard from my grandmother that he is dead and I feel as though I am free all over again.

The people I used to work for the Bruce's have purchased my freedom for real so that legally I am a free person, with value dignity, and worth.

So now our time has come to a close. You met me alone and a slave, and now I am in the company of good friend and free.

Thank you for following me by reading all of this, for at times when I had no one I could always write to you.

Now I am in pursuit of writing this book, I think that I shall call it "Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl".

And as always I will remain most humbly yours,

~Harriet Jacobs

England

I was in England for 10 months. And here I learned many things. Life if different here, people are not treated as they are in America. I came here as a nurse to someone that I work for.

Here I have learned of grace and love and Christ, and I feel as though for the first time I have entered into a new and better life. I am embarking on something wonderful and I am excited.

Above I have put up some pictures of London that I have taken.

Reunited

I have been reunited with Ben, and he is now staying with William as I return to New York to work. Fighting for respect and safety here is so difficult here and discouraging. But as women, who is black, those are two fighting things against me, but who I am is stronger than both.

I reveled my identity to the people I have been working for and they helped me to move to be with my brother. I took Ellen with me and she was finally able to be with her brother. They were so sweet when they saw each other for the first time. Most children are awkward, and it takes a few moments to warm up to one another again. But not for my children, they embraced and cried and talked. And I could not get them to stop talking after that! How I love that we are all together once again!

I have been diligently teaching Ellen to read and write before school starts to that she will be prepared. She is doing well, and I am so thankful that perhaps my children can have even a better education than myself.

Lies and suffered bonds

I have finally been able to reunited with my daughter Ellen, only to find that she is not free, but has not been educated and is now the maid of Mr. Sand's eldest daughter. I was so hurt. After everything that we have been through couldn't we all just catch on break? I suppose that not until I am free will my children ever be free.

My brother William has returned. I have been working so diligently, Ellen has been so sick, and I feel that all I have time to do is to worry. But the day that William and I reunited we got Ellen and shared a moment that will forever be engrained in my mind. It truly is amazing the bonds that are created by people only through the pain that suffering brings.

I am happy to be with family and I am thankful.

Riding first class

I do not have much time for a long posting today. But I have arrived safely in New York. However, during my ventures I went on to a train and sat down. I was told that I was not allowed to sit there. I thought to myself, "I am not allowed to sit in a chair?"

But then I realized that they are commenting as to the color of my skin. I suppose that this freedom will have to be a step before freedom, for I guess that I am not really free at all, if I cannot even sit in a chair.

The Sun Rise

I have been on an adventure since I wrote to you last. My friend Fanny and I were smuggled aboard a ship bound for Philadelphia. We were for the first time treated well, and I felt that it was to deceive us. I was watching my back, feeling as though any moment they would sell us for a reward.

But dear reader, I am free. And in my first moment of freedom do you know what I felt? I felt so utterly abandoned and alone. My emptiness consumed me, and I began to morn the loss of my family.

But just as the dawn breaks the day with a ray of light, so did hope in my life when this morning Fanny and I stood on the ships deck and watched the sun rise over what we knew was free soil. I can not put into words what this all meant to me. But I am free.

6 Months

It has been six months since Ellen left. And today my grandmother received letting us know that Ellen had a safe arrival in Brooklyn. I feel much more at peace. Except for Ben, I introduced myself to him, because I was not sure if he remembered me at all. I held his face in my hands after we had small talked for a bit. He looked up at me with a big smile on his face and told me that of course he knew who I was, and if that wasn't enough, he told me that he also knew where I had been hiding. This made my heart soar.

Dear reader I am sorry that it has been so long since I have posted anything to you after you have followed me so faithfully. I have been busy in making plans to travel north. Hopefully, this will be the last trek of my journey to freedom.

How and why I finally got out

I had gotten a few letters from my brother William. He was so happy to be moving to New York with his master Mr. Sands. But then one day all of the letters stopped from him. Then I heard some amazing news, William had escaped! Just think, I had lived in that wretched place for 7 years, and he finds and opening and escapes. Don't get me wrong I am so happy for him, it is just funny how life deals out the cards at times.

In the wake of this I found out that Mr. Sands had made plans to send Ellen to live with some of his relatives who lived in Brooklyn. And as for my little Ben, he was to live with Mr. Sands and his new wife. Let me say, I am so happy that my children have this opportunity to freedom. I just feel that for all of my labors shouldn't I be granted the right to be with them.

On the night before Ellen was to leave I came out of hiding. I had to be helped to stand, walk, and almost speak. I do not know what kind of impression I left on her last night but I hope that she knows the things that I have sacrificed. I spent the evening with her. We talked, ate, laughed, and talked of smalls things, so that the pain of the reality would not hurt us so much.

I don't think that I have ever cried harder then after waving goodbye as I saw my daughter leave me. I am so upset I don't think that I can muster up the energy or desire to write anymore.

My final night

I have had some remarkably solemn but wonderful news. Isn't it ironic how the majority of good news is almost always coupled with some type of not so great news? In a way good news is never always really that good for you then, it is more good for the group as a whole, but as an almost unspoken rule it is never good for you individually without some type of hardship. I will tell you more about this news in a later posting, and I am so happy to tell you that this will be my last posting to you in this sad small place that I have almost spent a decade in.

Tomorrow I will be able to embrace my daughter, and walk. Amazing how much we forget to be thankful for the small things. Like walking, or hugging, or simply sitting up straight.

Until tomorrow, when I am free of my wooden-attic captor.

A garnish

Well my dear reader. I have succeeded in filling you in as to my life up to now. Life is awful here, and I have almost driven myself crazy with the idea of freedom or every getting out. This idea has become the garnish to my life, I cannot wait until it is not just simply a decoration of my affectionate daydreams, and it becomes my life.

Letters

I have been composing letters to Dr. Flint. I write to him about my children and of my new life in New York. I with the help of friends have all of the letters to him postmarked from New York in order to lead him astray to think that I have succeeded in feeling the state.

I felt that this font was appropriate, considering the letters that I have been writing to Dr. Flint. Courier seems to make all things look more official.

I was almost caught...

...today when I went to Mr. Sands to ged him to free my children, our children. I had heard news that he was to be elected to Congress and that he would be leaving to live in Washington right away. I compromised my garret hiding place by going to him to ask him for the freedom of his children. Remarkable men, asking then to remember their children and to free them. He agreed to do everything that he could.

I am most thankful to him for that, and hope that all of this has not been in vain.

Rats, Mice, and Red Insects, Oh My!

Have I ever told you that this place is infested rats, mice, and these little red insects? The mice are not so awful, the rats however are terrifying. They are like an ugly misshapen cat. The little red insects however are intriguing. I like to watch them scurry across the wood. I envy each ones freedom to come and go as they please.

My name in print

I don't know how well you can read this but here is my name in print. I know that sounds so hopelessly ridiculous. But I have always desired to see my name in print. And here it is on a reward for my capture. I had always wished that perhaps I could see my name in print on a book next to the : after author. But maybe those are just my dreams.

But at any rate, here is basically a warrant for my capture.

Oh, and just as a funny thing, I laughed at the part that said, "hair that is naturally curl, that can also be combed straight." That will really help them find me! Ahh HA!

Sally

I escaped from Dr. Flint's plantation to my friend Sally. I guess that you could name this part of my life before my real escape to this space, Sally. She is a faithful friend of mine whom began and aided in my journey of hiding out. At first I stayed in a closet, which I do not like very much. Then I hid out at another friends house for a week in which Dr. Flint almost found me. As a result of this unfortunate incident I escaped to some bushes, while I was there I was bitten by a poisonous reptile. It was a bad things went to even worse kind of day. My next hid out was in an old storage room.

I got a letter from my brother, my whole family had been arrested as a result of Dr. Flint. He told me not to turn myself in and to no let everything I have worked so diligently for by giving up.

I have no idea how he sent this letter to me. It was so risky of him to do such a thing. But I cannot tell you how encouraging it was to hear from him. How I long even just to talk with him.

Well, it is getting late and I do not want to be seen or heard. Goodnight.

Today

This is absolutely lovely. This is how I wish I felt. Sometimes when I have days like today I like to pretend that I am someone else simply pretending to the girl who is choosing to live in an attic. I call this girl Linda. I believe that I would like to write a book as I have mentioned before and perhaps I will use Linda as my alias. Only you will know my readers, that this Linda is just woman fighting for what is right, who used to be a girl full of hopes and dreams. The other part of me is someone else entirely. Much like the tide in this picture, these writings to you are simply a wave washed up on shore from an ocean brimming full of ideas, love, stories and life. I am sure that we are all like this at times. And high-tide or low-tide we are all simply trying to keep afloat in these eddies of time. Thank you for listening to my ramblings, as I sit here in my solace. Until another day.

Sacrifices

My children are a blessing to me and have taught me many things. However, as a result of them, Dr. Flint made my life so utterly unbearable. He began to use my children to hurt me by threatening to free them if I will become his mistress. So, in choosing the lesser of two evils, I chose to go to the plantation and work for him, so that my children could be free and so that he could no use them as a leverage against me.

When it was my time to leave, I had intended to bring both of my children, but Ben became ill. So Ellen and I bravely went off to our new home on the plantation. At the plantation, Dr. Flint tried to break me in...but with the business and cumbersome of all of my duties, which included basically running the entire house hold in preparation of the new Mrs. Flint.

It broke my heart to leave little Ellen every day to be by herself as I went off to what seemed to be a never ended work. One day something terrible happened which resulted in a snake and my daughter under the house to which I had, had enough. I have always pondered that word in grammar. Is it possible to have two words next to each other when writing? Maybe one of you can tell me. Anyways, I apologize, I do not have anyone to talk to here and so when I write I feel that I am in the middle of a conversation with you, whoever you are already. So at that point I told Dr. Flint that Ellen was sick and consented to let her go home to live with my grandmother.

In the weeks that followed I began to contemplate, no, plot to escape.

(the photo above is of the plantation)

A continuation of the love I had lost, and the two loves I gained

Hello dear reader. I would like to continue the story of this love whom I lost. My love purposed to Dr. Flint that he would like to buy me, to which he said no.

After this Dr. Flint took on a new strategy. He offered to build me my own house and turn me into his idea of a lady. In a desperate attempt to save myself I entered into a relationship with a man named Mr. Sands. He is a gentleman and a lawyer, who just so happens to white. He was unmarried when I met him and consented to

be his mistress.

I remember being pregnant with our first child and have the pleasure of not only telling, but showing Dr. Flint that I was with child with another man. This cause great grief to my grandmother who believed that I was a women who knew better than to have a child with Dr. Flint. But she was greatly misunderstood. And after gathering some advice from a friend we soon reconciled.

I gave birth to my son, whom I named Benjamin. And later gave birth to a girl who

m I named Ellen. Below I have posted a picture of them. I love them and miss their faces dearly.

Counting

Today I counted all of the planks of wood that make up my fortress. There are 72 pieces of wood longways. 28 pieces of wood wide. And there are a of total of 128 planks of wood outlining my humble abode. I suppose that the next step to this counting thing would be to name all of them.

I am sorry my avid reader, if you are still reading my postings at all. I am still here, although I do not have the energy to do much of anything here today but count apparently.

A Love Lost

I once was in love. I loved, and I indulged the hope that the dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I was young and so was he. He was a carpenter, born free, just as he freely loved me, and I in my young musings loved him. We had been childhood friends. He has always been there to talk with, to console in. He was very much like a best friend to me.

He purposed to marry me. And as his eyes looked hopefully up at mine all I could think was, how can a fish love a bird, for a free man cannot marry a slave. He held me close and told me that he would buy me and that we would find a way to be together. I knew that Dr. Flint would not consent to such an arrangement.

I was called into Dr. Flints study, my heart was pumping blood so quickly that I was almost certain that it would burst inside of my chest. My throat was so dry as I tried to swallow and pushed open the door to his study. I tried to appear calm, but at the sight of his face an uncontrollable feeling came over me. He was such a hateful man, who claimed the right to not only rule my body but also my soul. He gave me this look, this look that encompassed all of the feelings of a heartless killer.

He picked up a book and stared at it for a moment, and then broke the silence and said, "So you want to be married do you? And to a free man?"

I swallowed the cotton swab that was lodged in my throat, and said, "Yes, sir."

He said that if I did have to love someone then I could marry one of his slaves. As if! I replied quickly, and harshly, and then he cut me off.

"Do you love this man?"

"Yes, sir." I said.

"How dare you tell me so!" He exclaimed in rage as he threw the book he was holding onto his desk. He placed his hand on his head and closed his eyes as if in deep thought about some great important thing that was too difficult for me to comprehend. "I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt about the insults of such puppies."

I opened my mouth and prayed to God that He would grant me the words to say, "If he is a puppy I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you call a puppy never insulted me, sir: and he would not love me if he did not believe me to be a virtuous woman."

He leaped at me like a tiger after its prey and stuck me. This was the first time he had ever hit me. How I despise that man!

Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I never shall again. Somebody has called it "the atmosphere of hell;" and I believe it is so.

So now you know the tragic tale of how I had once loved, and once hated.

My Reasonings

Once when I was yonder I was the spectator of a mother's sorrow. January 1st, the white man's holiday for the New Year, is a difficult day for the slave, for it is selling day. On this particular day I observed as a mother, whose children were wrenched out of arms, fought to keep her seven children. They were to be sold to now masters. This made a profound impact on me. I remember thinking to myself that when I become a mother, I will not allow that to happen to my children.

I have been through many things since that day so long ago. At the age of fifteen, Dr. Flint pushed himself with me. He put me in charge of watching over his little girl. He had her sleep in his room, so I had to sleep in there as well. This all caused Mrs. Flint to be jealous and violent with me. One day she had me swear on a Bible that I did not sleep with her husband to which I did right away. And after that she seemed to be more at peace, and promised me that she would protect me from him. Her methods of doing this were odd to me, and extremely nerve racking. She ordered me to sleep in a room next to hers so that she could keep watch over me. Imagine all the sleepless nights on both or our parts! I felt as though I was a soldier that must be ready for battle at any given moment. I knew that I could not count on her, and I pitied her. I talked with my grandmother who offered to buy my freedom, to which the manipulative and lustful Mr. Flint would hear nothing of for I was the property of his daughter. My soul did revolt against such tyranny.

Sewing with the Word

There are two things keeping me occupied as I sit here, other than writing to you, and those two things are, sewing and reading my Bible. Both have been teaching me patience, and perseverance.

The loneliness at times is overwhelming. But then I put my ear on the floor boards in an attempt to hear the voices of my children or my grandmother, anything that can calm the void that dwells in the pit of my stomach. I can sometimes hear the squeal of their laughter, the pitter-patter of their feet and the smell of the food lofting from the stove. What melts my heart the most, is hearing my daughter Ellen read to Benjamin. That should be my job, I am their mother after all. In every attempt to protect them, I have had to leave them. I know that this has probably strengthened the bond between then, to rely on one another more than most siblings probably do. Yet, I can't help but feel that maybe I am letting them down as their mother.

Is doing everything in my power to save them from a lifetime of this not motherly? Could I have made better choices? What other ways could I have freed them without having to make them feel so utterly abandoned by me?

I pray that as my readers you know that I love my children with all of my heart. My grandmother sought to free us, my father and mother sought to free us, and now it is my turn. But I am determined. I will stop at nothing for their rights to live and breathe and to be free to do as they please with the bodies that God has blessed them with. If that makes me a bad mother, then so be it.

* * *

I, as the psalmist says, "will wait on the Lord," and continue to sew and read, until His words are knitted within the very framework of my being.

Meeting Dr. Flint

Dr. Flint was a neighboring physician when I lived with my mistress. He whittled his way into the life of my mistresses sister and married her, and my brother William and I became the property of their daughter. Through a certain number of events which to my memory all run together, my father died and I was not allowed to go to his funeral. Then my grandmother was sold.

Now I need to backtrack and fill you in on why to me this was a small piece of my world crashing in on me. A promise was made by my Grandmother's mistress, that when she died, my grandmother, much like a genie in a bottle, would be granted her freedom. However, when she died Dr. Flint became involved. Living up to his name, the cold hearted man that he is, put my grandmother up for sale for the mere price of fifty dollars. Thankfully, the sister's mistress purchased my grandmother and provided her freedom.

Many horrendous things occurred during this time in my life. I was so naive as to the cruelties of this world. When one is raised to believe the best, it is appalling and earth shattering to see the brutal abilities of man, and the violence that he is capable of. All of this happened in my new home with Dr. Flint. It is amazing how one man can bring so much unhappiness.

Writing all of this down to you my readers is so helpful, for I would like to someday write everything down in a book. Relaying these things to you in these posts is helping me to sift out what I would like the world to know someday about me. But for now this is all I can post for today.

Hoping

I have spent almost seven years in a space above my grandmother's house. It is located between the roof and the ceiling, it is a little less than three feet high at its highest point, and nine feet long by seven feet wide. I have endured freezing winter, blazing hot summers, and pouring rain in this godforsaken crawl-space. Yet in it, or rather the idea of it, lays all of my hope for freedom. However, it is not freedom that I believe I will be fully content with, I desire my rights as a human, my dignity.

I don't believe that I have really explained the reasons for which I am here, other than to someday achieve the idea of freedom. I came to be living in this small space because I needed to be near my children. Before I came to be here I was living in and out of friends homes, black and white alike. But then I heard news that Norcom, (Dr. Flint) had sold my children and brother to a slave trader. Sawyer, who is the father of my children, (whom I will write more about in a later posting) unbeknownst to Dr. Flint, had careful watched his dealings in selling our children. Swayer cleverly was working with the salve trader, and allowed my children to go back and live with my grandmother. So in an effort to be closer to them, I am here.

Beginnings

My name is Harriet Jacobs. I am 5 feet 4 inches tall. I was raised learning to read and write. I am an orphan. I have two children. I love to write. I love to sing. I am not much different from you. And I am a slave.

The purpose of this blog is for you to understand my life and struggle as a slave. Here I will recollect my childhood, my coming of age, and hopefully of my escape from the conditions that I have been born into.

I write to you from a room in which I am hiding out. My motive for doing this was to protect and someday free my children and myself from my master James Norcom, or whom I like to call Dr. Flint.

I hardly knew that I was a slave until my first six happy years of life had passed away. My father was a skilled carpenter and both him and my mother were dignified and God fearing. I was six when my mother died. She died respected for she had lived a noble life and some say she had only been a slave by name. Shortly following my father died also, and my little brother and myself were left in the care of my mothers mistress. Those fleeting days with her were brimmed to the top with happiness. When I turned twelve she died. This is when for the first time I was old enough to understand that my prayers had not been answered. I was weary as to my fate which was dangling by chance as I awaited a answer for the future at my grandmother's house. My friends all assured me that freedom was knocking on my door. I could have never predicted, yet alone comprehended the things to come, and how far freedom was from even realizing that I was a slave.