Ned Mills

1867 Texas Voter Registration of Ned Mills

One day, sometime around the year 1830, on a plantation in Georgia, a male child was born into the physical and mental confines of slavery; he was given the name Ned. From the earliest days of his life, Ned surely witnessed the cruelty and hardships endured by those held as property.

As he grew into a young man, Ned started a family with a woman enslaved with him. I imagine he savored the moments of joy amidst the difficulty around him. But unfortunately, the cruel hand of fate would eventually intervene, tearing him away from his new family.

Sold to a new enslaver, Ned was uprooted from the familiar soil of Georgia and transported to the vast plains of Texas. Arriving in Texas around age 27, I imagine Ned carried a heavy heart, burdened by the weight of despair from being sold away from his young family.

It was during Ned’s first year with his new enslaver in Texas that the Supreme Court delivered the Dred Scott ruling, declaring in 1857 that African American’s were not and could not ever be citizens of the United States; considered now to be one of the worst Supreme Court ruling in our nations history. I imagine this news likely pained Ned's soul, as I assume it did all people of color, enslaved or not, no matter whether in the North or South.

In the years that followed, Ned would marry a woman enslaved with him and have 4 kids...establishing a new family in Texas. He would also witness Texas secede from the Union, align with the Confederacy and live to see the Civil War begin in April 1861. I can hardly imagine the idea of being stripped away from ones family, taken to a new state, then starting a new family, all while enslaved during a Civil War.

1880 Federal Census - Rusk County, Texas

In 1863, President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation likely reached Ned's ear through the murmurs of fellow enslaved. The proclamation promised freedom, but all enslavers did not honor that proclamation, and Ned couldn't risk escape...especially not without his family! He had already lost a family! I would think the mere thought of losing another family was unbearable. I imagine the weight Ned carried eased a bit at the end of the Civil War... when General Gordon Granger rode into Galveston, reading General Order #3, enforcing the Emancipation Proclamation. The date was June 19th, 1865...now commemorated as Juneteenth. At last, Ned was free.

As a requirement to rejoin the Union, Southern states were required to complete the voter registration of all eligible male citizens over the age of 21 by September 1st, 1867. Ned’s name was entered into the Texas Voter Registration log on July 24th, 1867, giving crucial details such as his age, number of years he’d been in Texas, and his place of birth, marking the first known documented record of his existence. A year later, the 14th Amendment officially granted Ned citizenship, something the Supreme Court denied just a decade prior. I struggle to imagine the emotions that must have gathered in his soul. The recognition of his humanity, even if only on paper.

Ned would have four additional children after the Civil War. Not knowing how to read or write, Ned would work tirelessly as a farmer, sometimes as a Blacksmith, toiling under the sun and still facing racism and oppression. His wife would die shortly before the turn of the century, leaving him a widower. I imagine life wasn’t easy. Even though, he saw his life through the lens of humility, through wise eyes, as having a glass that was half full... reflecting the resilient nature of his ancestors.

His children all joined him in farming the Texas soil, as did his grandchildren after his death shortly after the turn of the century. Ned was buried in the woods behind a White’s only cemetery in Kilgore Texas...unmarked and now lost to time.

Although he lived in a nation that eventually acknowledged his right to freedom, and shortly thereafter finally acknowledged his citizenship, he would experience segregation in life, as well as in death.

1900 Federal Census - Rusk County, Texas

This climate of racial bias and oppression was not tolerable to his youngest grandson, Milon. So, Milon made a difficult decision in the 1930’s. Fleeing violent threats from White Americans, Milon sought refuge in California, leaving his Texas family behind and joining the historic Great Migration—the transformative movement of 6 million Black Americans over 7 decades, escaping the clutches of racial violence, seeking economic opportunity and freedom from oppression.

In California, Milon would marry and build a life. There, he welcomed a son into the world who he named after his oldest brother Johnnie, who in concert also had a son who he named Johnnie — and that individual is me.

So, you see, I exist because of a long legacy of persistence and perseverance of people who were demeaned, devalued and scarcely documented. Therefore, I find it imperative that I search for, collect, catalogue and regurgitate the many threads of documentation of the African American experience, those items that were intentionally buried, hidden, disregarded or denied. I see researching the enslaved as not a mere intellectual exercise—As an African American, I see it as a profound act of resistance. By unearthing, studying and sharing these stories, we reject the historical practice of erasure, refuse to be complicit, and reclaim their place in our country’s history, presenting the template and opportunity for our broader society to do the same, connecting the lines to those persisting challenges that reverberate today.

And so, the story of my Great Great Grandfather Ned lives on through the work I do and the reflection I see in the mirror each morning. But not just mine...the reflection we all see. For no matter whether by force in the South due to an American Civil War, gradual emancipation in the North by individual state law, whether the descendant of an enslaver, of an enslaved, or both like me, whether you are the descendant of those who were complicit, benefiting from the spoils of colonialism, or those who fought against it, we are all intertwined in a complicated quilt which is the American experiment.