They called it the old country. Not some distant ancestral land in Africa ipassed down in myth or memory—but Mississippi. Georgia. Alabama. The South. Before the first Great Migration, Black families who left that soil for the North spoke of it the way European immigrants spoke of Ireland or Poland: a place left behind, a place remembered, a place escaped.
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Image: Family Chopping weeds from cotton in White Plains, Ga, in 1941. Jack Delano, LOC.
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