As we navigate the uncertain terrain of the next four years and beyond, many of us—like countless Americans—are seeking the best paths forward. In these challenging times, I believe our heroes can offer us inspiration and guidance. Their experiences serve as powerful sources of motivation, encouragement and reminders of who we are, what we have overcome and where we can go together.
I look to my ancestors, Pollee (Kupollee) and Rose (Rosalie) Allen, to serve as my guiding heroes. They were two of the 110 enslaved survivors aboard the Clotilda, the last known slave ship to bring Africans to the Americas on 8 July 1860. They arrived in my hometown of Mobile, Alabama, after a harrowing 45-day journey across the Atlantic Ocean, having been captured in what was formerly known as the Kingdom of Dahomey (located in present-day Benin).
While we will never know or experience anything close to what it was like for the 110 during and after that perilous voyage, the courage of my ancestors and their shipmates offer a blueprint for how to endure and keep going during times of uncertainty. I will share a few examples of what they did as a community, rooted in faith and fueled by a spirit of activism, in hopes that these provide some inspiration, guidance and hope in the days ahead.
Coming together as a community to create a home
My ancestors and their shipmates were stripped of their clothing, deprived of their basic dignity, before being forced aboard the Clotilda. Adding insult to injury, the trafficking of enslaved people into the US had been outlawed years before—but they did not know this at the time. My ancestors and their shipmates should never have set foot on that ship in the first place.
After enduring five years of slavery in Mobile, my ancestors and their shipmates were finally granted their long-overdue freedom. The 110 lived and worked together as a community, just as they had in their homeland. They were a formidable force—some of the world’s most skilled soldiers, farmers, leaders and quilters. As Mary Elliott, a curator at the National Museum of African American History and Culture, has said of the 110: “They didn’t come with empty heads, they came with empty hands.”
Even though the 110 were technically free, they received meager wages for backbreaking work. Pollee, for example, worked 12-hour days (he was only paid for 11) stacking lumber at a mill. He eventually saved enough money to purchase two acres of land for his family—from his former enslaver.
After a long day of work, with the help of his former shipmates, Pollee carried wood on his back every day from the mill; he used it to build a home. He and the rest of the 110 regularly shared what they had so that all could prosper. None of them could have done it alone—they helped one another build homes and key community fixtures like a church and a school, shared food from their gardens and harvested their own medicines.
Their hard work paid off. After three years as free citizens, the 110 purchased enough land to create Africatown, a re-creation of their homeland. They formed their own governing body and continued their culture and traditions in Africatown. This was an historic achievement that they could not have realised without unifying their efforts.
My ancestors and the rest of the 110 knew it was critical to lift one another up and live as a community, to build a better future for themselves and generations of Americans after them. I encourage everyone to hold onto hope—to find community and ways to build together. As Rudyard Kipling wrote in The Jungle Book (1894): “For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” None of us can navigate this uncertain terrain alone; we need to work together now more than ever.
United in faith to persevere
At the core of the 110’s ability to persevere and work together was their shared faith. For her book Historic Sketches of the South (1914), Emma Langdon Roche interviewed several Africatown founders, who spoke of their faith and its importance. Through these conversations, Roche learned that Pollee’s “constant companion” was a “small, much worn New Testament”.
A few years after founding Africatown, several of the residents (including Pollee) organised their very own church with the help of Reverend Henry McCrea. Old Landmark Baptist Church—later renamed Union Baptist Church—was built in an area known to the Africans as the “praying ground”, where people would assemble to worship.
After a church service, they would continue to fellowship, gathering at one another’s homes to “discuss among themselves the things pertaining to their welfare”, Roche writes, “and they never part[ed] without speaking of their African home and telling some incident of that beloved place.” Faith in God was not only central to their sense of community, but their faith also served as a driver of their continuous progress and reflection of how far they had come, compelling them to press on.
Earlier this month, Union Baptist Church celebrated its 155th anniversary, a marker of the community’s steadfast faith and resilience. The theme of its celebration was “The Church: still praying, standing, believing and trusting God in and through perilous times”. I am certain that Pollee, Rose and their shipmates found the strength and courage to endure life in their new world through their faith. We, too, must lean on our faith and press ahead.
Voting to voice our rights
In an October 2024 article, I shared how Pollee and his shipmates cast their first ballots (it would turn out to be their only vote due to the post-Reconstruction discrimination that followed). They faced obstacle after obstacle to exercise their right to vote, but they persisted. After walking many miles and paying the equivalent of a full day’s pay, they were finally able to cast their votes.
I share this story to emphasise how important it was to Africatown residents to vote. They understood that elections have consequences and that, regardless of the results, it was imperative they express their voices through their votes—that their voices were counted. They considered voting to be a patriotic duty.
Despite the horrific treatment that my ancestors and the rest of the 110 suffered, they remained resilient. Despite uncertainty they banded together, fortified by their faith, to build a better future for themselves and generations of Americans after them. In spite of the darkness and fear they felt, they took decisive action to move forward. They the US’s unsung heroes. I encourage anyone searching for answers during this unprecedented time to do as I have done and anchor to the truths of your own heroes or the courageous 110. Work together as a community, keep your faith alive and vote.
- Jeremy Ellis is a former president of the Clotilda Descendants Association in Mobile, Alabama
