The Shock of Learning My Last Name Is a Slave Name

My Last Name Is a Slave Name

And now it means something deeper than I ever imagined.

I’m dropping this not because it’s Black History Month or Juneteenth—but because this revelation knocked the wind out of me, and I’m still processing it.

For my entire life, my last name was just that—my last name.
A signature. An introduction. Nothing more, nothing less.

Until I found out the truth.

My last name is a slave name.

Confirmed—straight from the Library of Congress. And let me tell you… it’s still sinking in.

The name I carry isn’t just a name—it’s a receipt of oppression. A reminder that my ancestors were stripped of their identity and forced to take the name of the plantation that enslaved them.

I wasn’t ready for that.

I always knew Black history carried pain and power. But when history calls you by your own name, it hits different.

The Google Search That Changed Everything

Less than two weeks ago, I casually typed “Pettway Plantation” into Google.

What I found? Poked the bear in me.

I couldn’t just move on. You know me—I don’t do surface-level. I went deep.

What I found shook me to my core.

The Origin of Gee’s Bend and the Pettway Name

To understand the weight of my name, I had to go all the way back to 1816—to a man named Joseph Gee.

Gee, an enslaver from North Carolina, acquired 6,000 acres of land along a horseshoe bend in the Alabama River. He brought 17 enslaved people with him and established what would later be known as Gee’s Bend.

By 1845, financial troubles forced the Gee family to sell the land—along with 98 enslaved people—to Mark H. Pettway, sheriff and enslaver from Halifax County, NC.

The following year, Pettway loaded up his family in wagons and moved to Gee’s Bend.

His newly enslaved 100+ men, women, and children?

They walked.
From North Carolina to Alabama.
On foot.

And while Gee left his name on the land…
Pettway left his name on the people.

Stripped of Identity, Trapped by Economics

Throughout the South, enslaved people were forced to adopt the names of their enslavers—erasing their original names, languages, and lineages.

“What his name was when he came here [from North Carolina], I don’t know. A heap of people think that all these folks here was Pettways, but that ain’t what they started with. They ain’t even no kin, hardly.”
— Hargrove Kennedy, Gee’s Bend descendant

Even after emancipation, my ancestors weren’t truly free.

They were legally free—but economically trapped.

Many remained on the land, working under sharecropping and tenant farming systems that kept them in a cycle of debt and poverty.

The Pettway Plantation changed hands, but the exploitation continued—locking generations of Black families in survival mode.

And yet… my people endured. And thrived.
(More on that in Part 2.)

The MLK Connection That Hit Different

As I kept researching, another bombshell dropped:
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. marched through Gee’s Bend.

In the 1960s, many Pettway descendants—especially the women of Gee’s Bend—became activists, marching for civil rights and voting access. Some were jailed. Others blocked from registering. But they kept showing up.

Their famous quilts became symbols of both survival and resistance—and Dr. King recognized their power. He visited Gee’s Bend and inspired a movement that lived on through fabric, faith, and fierce determination.

So now I know this:

My ancestors weren’t just survivors of slavery.
They were warriors in the movement.
My last name carries both trauma and triumph.

Processing the Weight of My Name

Finding out that “Pettway” was never our chosen name? That hit like a gut punch.

This wasn’t a name passed down through love and legacy. It was forced. It meant ownership. It marked survival.

And yet…

• My family lived.
• They resisted.
• They held on to each other.
• They built a life—without owning their names, land, or freedom.

That kind of fire?

That’s in my DNA.

I carry the weight—but I also carry the legacy.
And that, I now know, is sacred.

📌 Want Part 2?
Stay tuned for how the Pettway name evolved into a movement—quilts, culture, and how Gee’s Bend shaped American history.