From Slavery to Freedom

The African-American Cemetery

Today, the African-American cemetery at Drayton Hall, located about 100 feet from the main drive, is the resting place for many of the African Americans who lived and worked at Drayton Hall. In fact, most of the visible graves are for people with roots in three centuries of South Carolina history.

The last burial took place in 1998 and was that of Richmond Bowens, a descendent of enslaved people at Drayton Hall and one of the National Trust's richest resources on African-American history at the plantation. In keeping with his wishes, this cemetery has been "left natural," not restored or planted with grass or decorative shrubs. As he said, "Leave 'em rest."

The origins of this sacred place are lost to history because no documents have been found to date its first use, and out of respect for the person buried here, no archeological excavations have been done. Richmond Bowens recalled that it was definitely in use by the late 1800s. At the time, the cemetery was set amidst a different landscape. It was at the heart of the community of families who lived on the property along Ashley River Road, and it represented the view that death was seen not as something isolated from community life but integral to it.

Richmond Bowens' memories of death and burials here underscore connections with community. He remembered that when someone became sick and died, neighbors and kin rallied around to help the family. Women prepared food and took care of children. The men dug the graves, ensuring that they were aligned in an east-west direction, and made the wood caskets and grave markers. Family members also decorated the graves with special things that had belonged to the deceased. For example, Richmond Bowens' father had been a barber in the community, so "some of his barbering things were put around his grave." Such traditions were practiced in African-American communities across the South and have been connected to traditions in Africa.

In 1989, Hurricane Hugo destroyed the tall forests that had grown up and sheltered the cemetery. To protect the graves, all the fallen trees were sawn and carried out by hand. The stumps that remain bear witness to that cataclysm.

Today, the historical wooden markers have long since rotted away, so the identities of many of the people here are not known "except by God." The wooden coffins have also collapsed, causing depressions in the ground.

In total, there appear to be about 33 marked graves, all aligned in an east-west direction. According to custom, the interred person faced east in the direction of the rising sun. While most of the graves are evident, marked by depressions in the ground, there may well be more.