It is also the birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the charismatic leader of the Civil Rights Movement, who fought for freedom everywhere, the Atlanta University Center, and historic Auburn Avenue, where black businesses thrived.
However, thriving black communities exist in rural areas like Southwest Georgia, where many people of color call home.
Known for its flat terrain and high humidity, Southwest Georgia prospered during Slavery, as slaveholders moved their slaves westward in search of fertile soil. Over time, the black population began to overtake that of whites in many counties, which continues to this day. African-American communities soon developed around churches, schools, and businesses. African Americans have also farmed the land for generations, with a record number of black-owned farms.
Growing up in Southwest Georgia, I experienced African American culture firsthand or what it's like to be black in a small Georgia town. African Americans crowded downtown on weekends and holidays, spending hard-earned wages from textile plants, peanut mills, and the auto industry on groceries, clothing, and other necessities after putting some aside for a rainy day. Others mingled with friends or greeted customers in businesses they owned.
Downtown also hosted the homecoming parade on chilly Fall evenings. Thanks to the local majority black high school, black and white citizens lined Main Street in the '60s, '70s, and '80s to get a glimpse of the funkiest marching band for miles around. It was something we all looked forward to.
Lastly, it was the perfect place to get a nice high-top fade haircut in the 1980s and '90s on Thursday evenings at the celebrated African-American barbershop. Yo! MTV Raps or Rap City played in the background as country boys got stylish for the weekend.
Like most small towns, life centered around the church on Sunday. Many African Americans worshiped at a different congregation each week, likely due to the large number of black houses of worship in the community and the chance to experience a new pastor or choir.
A week-long revival dominated religious service during Summer. Powerful preaching and soul-stirring singing took place to bring out the Holy Ghost and win over new converts. A baptism followed the following Sunday.
When someone black died, the church that he or she joined or got baptized in was proudly mentioned in the obituary, which still happens today.
We not only revered God but also education. Young people were pressured to complete high school by their parents and others and enroll in college, preferably near historically black Albany State College. Many adults even enrolled in adult education to get the high school diploma that eluded them in their youth.
The blacks in my hometown also exhibited a strong ethic. Virtually everyone of color who desired a job had one, even if it meant working on a farm. Most, however, worked in the peanut, poultry, textile, or auto industry. Many others sought better-paying jobs in the nearby larger city. A professional class of black teachers, doctors, and business owners lived alongside their working-class neighbors.
Nothing could beat being a kid where I grew up. We seldom skipped school because it was where we interacted with friends and participated in sports while getting a good education, something our parents insisted upon. Also, at least ninety-eight percent of us lived in two-parent households and did not do drugs or drink alcohol except for the occasional joint or shot of liquor at the prom or other once-in-a-lifetime events.
During the Summer, youngsters played in open fields, walked barefoot down hot dirt roads, and were kept abreast of the latest Soul or Funk like the Temptations, Al Green, Earth Wind And Fire, and The Ohio Players that no teen or adult could resist.
My hometown today is at a crossroads. Although African Americans control the local government and school board, have built new schools, enticed new businesses, and improved infrastructure, the city has still witnessed a flurry of jobs going abroad with a steep population decline. Despite such setbacks, the place where I was raised and inspired to dream and similar communities in Southwest Georgia, with overwhelming black populations, are striving toward the future with an eye on progress.
However, thriving black communities exist in rural areas like Southwest Georgia, where many people of color call home.
Known for its flat terrain and high humidity, Southwest Georgia prospered during Slavery, as slaveholders moved their slaves westward in search of fertile soil. Over time, the black population began to overtake that of whites in many counties, which continues to this day. African-American communities soon developed around churches, schools, and businesses. African Americans have also farmed the land for generations, with a record number of black-owned farms.
Growing up in Southwest Georgia, I experienced African American culture firsthand or what it's like to be black in a small Georgia town. African Americans crowded downtown on weekends and holidays, spending hard-earned wages from textile plants, peanut mills, and the auto industry on groceries, clothing, and other necessities after putting some aside for a rainy day. Others mingled with friends or greeted customers in businesses they owned.
Downtown also hosted the homecoming parade on chilly Fall evenings. Thanks to the local majority black high school, black and white citizens lined Main Street in the '60s, '70s, and '80s to get a glimpse of the funkiest marching band for miles around. It was something we all looked forward to.
Lastly, it was the perfect place to get a nice high-top fade haircut in the 1980s and '90s on Thursday evenings at the celebrated African-American barbershop. Yo! MTV Raps or Rap City played in the background as country boys got stylish for the weekend.
Like most small towns, life centered around the church on Sunday. Many African Americans worshiped at a different congregation each week, likely due to the large number of black houses of worship in the community and the chance to experience a new pastor or choir.
A week-long revival dominated religious service during Summer. Powerful preaching and soul-stirring singing took place to bring out the Holy Ghost and win over new converts. A baptism followed the following Sunday.
When someone black died, the church that he or she joined or got baptized in was proudly mentioned in the obituary, which still happens today.
We not only revered God but also education. Young people were pressured to complete high school by their parents and others and enroll in college, preferably near historically black Albany State College. Many adults even enrolled in adult education to get the high school diploma that eluded them in their youth.
The blacks in my hometown also exhibited a strong ethic. Virtually everyone of color who desired a job had one, even if it meant working on a farm. Most, however, worked in the peanut, poultry, textile, or auto industry. Many others sought better-paying jobs in the nearby larger city. A professional class of black teachers, doctors, and business owners lived alongside their working-class neighbors.
Nothing could beat being a kid where I grew up. We seldom skipped school because it was where we interacted with friends and participated in sports while getting a good education, something our parents insisted upon. Also, at least ninety-eight percent of us lived in two-parent households and did not do drugs or drink alcohol except for the occasional joint or shot of liquor at the prom or other once-in-a-lifetime events.
During the Summer, youngsters played in open fields, walked barefoot down hot dirt roads, and were kept abreast of the latest Soul or Funk like the Temptations, Al Green, Earth Wind And Fire, and The Ohio Players that no teen or adult could resist.
My hometown today is at a crossroads. Although African Americans control the local government and school board, have built new schools, enticed new businesses, and improved infrastructure, the city has still witnessed a flurry of jobs going abroad with a steep population decline. Despite such setbacks, the place where I was raised and inspired to dream and similar communities in Southwest Georgia, with overwhelming black populations, are striving toward the future with an eye on progress.
