Cotton, It Killed my Nana, Lorena Gurganus, South Carolina

I never connected this before today, why I became interested in the fighting cotton trafficking [slavery], the two didn't connect,

until today.

I knew she died of brown lung disease, that is what they called it, I knew she had her lungs scraped once [what they did then], I knew her alcoholism was a huge part of the disease because the doctors told my mother her lungs were so eaten up...that the alcohol dulled the pain.

But I never linked it to why I would this past year, begin to lobby on ethical consumption, it never occurred to me, that these children were risking lung disease [not risk, guaranteed], in Uzbekistan and elsewhere.

You know you just don't put these things together, for me personally I had always been interested in my Nana's cotton years where issues of race were concerned...her life was a mystery to us...she was somewhat private. I knew she had been raped at the age of 12 by an uncle or someone who worked with her, when she was working the cotton fields, that was something we didn't' talk about,

it would explain a lot though...what had passed down, through generations. It would explain, a lot but then it wouldn't, always gaps...

I had a dream today, another one, I have many, always of children's homes [lived in one at age of 14], what it means I don't know...but today, I had one [was up all night doing laundry so my daughter would have her uniform ready at 5 this morning, she didn't get off until 11 last night so I pulled an all nighter and slept this morning for a few] but anyway, had a dream about my Nana, again,

her last name. You see what is even more odd, is that there is a study being done right now [has been for years] about the Mystery of that name, Gurganus, they are even doing DNA tests, to find the Origin of that name. Eastern Europe, is what they sort of think--which, odd my Nana, taught me a lot of embroidery that was more of the Eastern Europe--she had those tastes,

but I thought that might be attributed to the Italian side of family [Nano was full blood Italian].

But what is more difficult, in following family line there is that she had been married prior to him, we know nothing there and well, the family other than brother and me and a lot of Italian cousins whom I do not know anything except they live in CA and I know the last name...well,

the family I could have gotten info from, are all dead. My mother kept us from knowing them---long story,

anyway, so there are these like, Weird and I do mean Weird gaps, that I've been seeing, like my father's mother having a Jewish name, that I saw, on his birth certificate, only three docs of him, I have [that I got after he died, I didn't know him, we left him when I was six years of age and I would never see him again].

He was staunch Catholic [so was my mother, my Nana was not but rest of family was] and his family, all from D.C. area...Irish, he was also a shriner ? [thought maybe Mason but think it was that branch that is Catholic, not mason but something else...like the Mason's though],

all I know there--some strange findings there too, because all that side, works in Politics. Government...

my Nano's Italian side, history of crime [Mafia--what rung I do not know, but I will never forget finding a court doc online, with my granddad {Nano} whom, due to that one case, numerous criminal cases would be thrown out of court--due to, technicalities, he was a bookie, I knew that, that wasn't a secret in family, I do know, my uncle would tell us, there is only ONE way out of that life, the HORIZONTAL WAY, it may have a lot to do with Why my mother kept that part of family secret, though I did meet many of my cousins in CA when I was seven and eight years old--and my uncles, aunts, my great Nano, whom I now have a photo of, from the Old Country they would say, she spoke Italian, wore the black that widows wore--and the picture of her, she is doing needlework...if you can believe that, though I was cut out of that photo, along with all the other photos but one--again, long story, related to the abuse, but a couple of my uncles on that side served years in prison, so, yea, who knows...but strange, one side crime another politics, would explain why I was drawn to some of the loser men, LOL],

yea, like weird, my Nana--cotton farmer/poor, and from her, Nothing, on her side that is, other than an old aunt whom I'm sure is dead..South Carolina.

But the one thing, I had, to go on, doing some search because occasionally, because it was Her, who was the only Mother connection on an emotional level I had, growing up...now and then I'll look over on the Gurganus Family Tree investigative site [it's a huge project] to see what they have found...

it's the only Identity I have, that has meaning...and I remembered her having the lung operation, she talked about it a lot. So I looked it up and why I never noticed the connection before, I don't know,

but then, I did, and thought of all the cotton slavery today, and then I sort of knew, that maybe God is restoring, maybe, or there is work for justice, for what killed my Nana.

I don't know, but weird, you know...

so, I am doing some research on this brown lung disease, and sure enough, many workers in Cotton farming/textiles were killed, with this disease from South and North Carolina.

see: http://healthmad.com/conditions-and-diseases/byssinosis-the-brown-lung-disease-on-textile-workers/

I am seeing these Weird connections in my life/family line, from the Venus that terrified me as child [abuse, long story] to the obsession my mother had with the Holocaust History [and I would learn before age of 10, the gory details there] and one of my daughters Native American Indian [genocide in her ethnic history] and the Italian side [Columbus day protests ring a ironic twist for me] and the Irish side and my marriage to a Brit whose family was very prejudice towards Irish and the look/slam from his mother when she learned of my father's last name...

just weird...and my passion for human rights.

Coincidence?

I think not.

And then, this blog--Needle Worker's And Sewers Union...you know I wasn't even aware of the cotton slavery, when I began this blog, Sweatshops yes, that I knew about,s

but not the cotton slavery and well,

weird. But weird in a Good way, because its like these threads, I don't know, where they will lead,

but remember that Quilt, I mentioned in earlier post?

and the dreams....the one this morning,

I just wish, I could fill these gaps and unanswered questions, the disconnects...why so many gaps? It's like my brother and I came from a family but there is no family to find...so much secrecy and disconnecting,

with only bits here and there. Then the children's home, what that means, I am no sure, but it has something to do with my always wanting to run, not ever feeling at home anywhere, inability to connect and commit,

including with God. Hard to explain but something there...and its like God is showing me, the pieces, what they mean,

I don't know. I really don't, but the fragments, are most definitely, fragments, and they go way, way back, before I was born. This may not be as odd as it appears, remember,

Tree of Knowledge, Tree of Life--we all, come from that Tree of Knowledge.

Another strange thing, my Nana's name, is very common name, among Latina women, not white women. And I always identified and felt more in my skin among Latina women, always have...I attributed that to the Italian culture,

but maybe there is more to it. IF I had the money I'd get a DNA test, I'd like to know...is it important? Maybe not really, but this is one of those things that has always bugged me, like tugging at me, maybe,

that is what those dreams of my walking the halls of children's homes means...lived in one for a year, orphanage, my mother one day, I came home, barely 14, a minute late...she said, Ha, I don't have to worry about you anymore, you're going away tomorrow. She had told the juvenile officer [jerk] I was dealing drugs [didn't even use drugs] and that I was a Whore...so all the way [three hour drive] to this orphanage [Catholic run by Nuns] all he asked me was who I slept with,

I was barely 14, and a VIRGIN. [well other than the abuse] but, you know, like Wonderful...

he was a perv misogynist, she, well, had issues that I won't go into here, and the orphanage, 100+ kids, no teen boys, they weren't allowed, once they hit twelve they were sent to boy's ranches. I remember the Nuns, the forced morning visits to the Mass and Thursday evening and chores [institution like place] and reading Cosmo with another girl in Mass [6 in morning, lol] in the back, until we were caught by a Sister, my alone visits in the upper room where I would play the organ [it was this small prayer room, no one used of course including Nuns and Priests] and it was my hiding place, I would read Harlequins and other trashy novels then, LOL, like good grief...had a job at library though--loved that, of course I loved books--another hiding place,

funny now I look back and I can see where God, was trying to reach me then, trying to save me, but I was too wounded and angry to understand then--but I did, call the Sisters, one in particular who tough, from Austria, would try to reach me until I just got too out of hand and they could not deal with me, I would call this orphanage in the nineties, talk to this one Siser, I'll never forget, I told her I found God, she told me, that she did Love me, I cried...I have her so much hell, I really did. They couldn't have reached me no matter what, it wasn't their love I wanted you see, it was my Mother's, and I would never, have that...it just wasn't going to be, and it never did come to be. I'm glad I did call them though, the orphanage closed down, shortly after that--it's no more and there isn't many of them left. Why mother didn't sign me off as Ward of State I will never know--if she had of, I would have been better off, IF I would have stayed in that home--I may have gone to college, at an earlier time, they tended to give scholarships to the girls there--but I just couldn't shake off the anger/rage nor my first boyfriend whom I was madly in love with [mother separated us too] and well, he would tire of my virginity and would find a girl whom, wasn't hung up on virginity...that was one thing, I at that time--promised God. Of course, my first husband, at 16, one month before turning 17, I ran away you see and he was there, to rescue my dumb ass, he was cute, I thought, five years older-- repaid that kindness with his fists..[a marriage that lasted a year, till I ran away from him and his fists and the death threat that I knew, he'd probably carry out] so much for that ole Virginity garbage, LOL. IT was downhilll from there...not even 18, already scarred...my first experience with a boy, whom I liked, was an attempted rape--yea, funny, his Christian aunt rescued my ass that time--I was twelve I think? Funny how I remember these things,


Anyway, my restlessness, after a year, too much for them to handle--back to Mommy I went--she was NOT happy, and I would pay like hell for the next two years until I moved out...but not until she would try to dump me somewhere else, including reform school for violent kids, except I had not broken any laws nor was I violent. [I was straight A student, in choir, but she would do all to END that...I would not be allowed to succeed there, her life was hell and by golly mine would be too, it was my fault, after all, that her life, her sacrifice, my fault, her marriage to my father, I do wonder about what more was behind that, I do not know, all I know, she was pregnant with me before marrying him and that he was still in Marines, not even discharged yet]. My Nana, whom my mother had removed us from her, when I was 12 [long story, history of abuse there, horrid, in fact, Nana was kind to me but horrible to her and my uncle, really towards boys, violently horrible, alcoholism, I wouldn't see the manipulations there until this past year--was I loved or a pawn? Maybe both, don't know, but not all that I thought, was as it appeared to be, a lot of FEAR esp when she was drinking, but anyway in teen years Nana was sick, she passed away, when I was 18? There are a lot of memory gaps too--many of them, months of gaps, black holes that I miss, maybe due to repression, not sure, age? Old age? who knows]

Well, anyway, gaps...lots of gaps,

but would have never thought--they would also be intertwined, the threads, in the advocacy I do, not like I am seeing now. Where it's going,

have No earthly idea...OH, an all so much of the attempted rapes and abuse and joke of marriage---all nicely wrapped up in the protection and seclusion of a nice little Bible Belt Christian Taliban town...all snug and sweet and so pious too. Poor white trash girls were easy prey you see, for fathers and uncles and judges and cops and the rich football boys club...all easy prey--black girls knew not to venture far from home [and they were run out of town] and Latina girls clung together in the protection of family, church [Catholic] and as a clan--no matter what economic class they were protected, by one another-from the onslaughts and violence of the white Religious KKK types,

not so with us poor white trash--we were defective, ugly, especially those of us who looked dark, not blonde, not petite, not tiny noses and blue eyes...not Southern Belle type, like Tori Amos sings, little fascist panties, LOL, That they were, That they were...we were marked,

not just by the boys either--the girls, women, were FAR WORSE. I know, why the black and brown women hate them so--so do I, if I am honest, so do I.

well, ok enough splattering the ugly bits here--but they are bits, I identify with,

In solidarity,

Jane