by Jabari A.S Lottie

This semester, I have been taking a Community GIS course that has deepened my understanding of how Geographic Information Systems (GIS) can serve as a tool for communication, storytelling, and empowerment within communities. My coursework has focused on Brooklyn Cemetery, a historically significant burial site for Black families in Athens, Georgia. Through mapping, spatial analysis, and assessing data integrity, I have begun to recognize the critical gap between what geospatial data reveals and what it omits.
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Brooklyn Cemetery, like many historically Black cemeteries, has faced decades of neglect due to systemic racial and economic injustices. While GIS offers valuable tools for mapping and preservation, it cannot fully capture the depth of historical and cultural narratives embedded in such spaces. This realization has challenged my initial perception of GIS as a neutral, purely analytical tool. Instead, I now see it as a medium for participatory engagement and advocacy.
GIS as a Tool for Community Problem-Solving
 
Engaging with “Doing Community Geography” (Shannon & Walker, 2018) and other foundational texts has expanded my perspective on how GIS can be applied to address real-world community issues. The concept of Public Participation GIS (PPGIS) (Sieber, 2006) emphasizes that GIS should not be limited to experts but instead serve as a platform where communities can contribute geographic data, challenge dominant narratives, and influence decision-making. The application of GIS in Brooklyn Cemetery illustrates how geospatial tools can be used to restore historically significant sites by mapping burial locations, overlaying historical maps with current land use data, and integrating oral histories.
 
Beyond historical preservation, GIS has broader applications in addressing pressing social and environmental issues. It can be used to analyze urban inequalities, identify environmental injustices, and support participatory planning efforts. For instance, in marginalized communities, GIS can highlight disparities in access to public resources such as parks, transit, and grocery stores. It can also track patterns of gentrification and displacement, providing data-driven support for advocacy efforts. GIS, when combined with qualitative research methods like community mapping and oral histories, becomes a powerful tool for amplifying underrepresented voices and shaping more equitable planning decisions.
Power and Representation in GIS
 
A recurring theme in community-based GIS work is the issue of power dynamics, who collects data, who interprets it, and whose stories are included. As Sieber (2006) discusses, traditional GIS applications often privilege institutional perspectives, excluding community knowledge from the decision-making process. At Brooklyn Cemetery, this became evident when I met with Linda Elder Davis, a longtime Athens resident and co-founder of the Friends of Brooklyn Cemetery. While maps and datasets provided information on burial sites, they failed to capture the personal histories of those interred there or the impact of systemic neglect on the cemetery’s condition. Davis’s oral histories and local expertise provided essential context that GIS alone could not.
 
This experience reinforced the importance of Deliberative GIS, a model proposed by Schlossberg and Shuford (2005), which positions GIS as a collaborative decision-making tool rather than merely a spatial analysis tool. Deliberative GIS encourages ongoing community participation, ensuring that residents actively shape projects rather than passively receiving pre-determined plans. This shift in perspective challenges the traditional top-down approach to urban planning and underscores the need for equity in spatial decision-making.
Rethinking the Role of GIS in Planning
 
Initially, I viewed GIS as a means for technical analysis, a way to visualize data, model spatial relationships, and guide decision-making. However, this course has reshaped my understanding of GIS as a narrative tool, one that can bridge the gap between data and lived experience. GIS should not simply document existing conditions but also facilitate dialogue, empower communities, and support social justice initiatives.
 
As I move forward in my career as a planner, I anticipate using GIS in ways that prioritize community engagement and participatory decision-making. Rather than solely relying on quantitative data, I aim to integrate qualitative storytelling methods, such as oral histories and participatory mapping, to ensure that planning efforts reflect the needs and perspectives of those directly affected. This shift in thinking acknowledges the ethical responsibilities of using GIS, recognizing that spatial data is never neutral and that maps have the power to shape narratives and policies.
 
Brooklyn Cemetery serves as a compelling case study for the transformative potential of GIS when applied through a justice-oriented lens. It demonstrates that GIS, when used thoughtfully, can be more than a technical tool, it can be an instrument for recovery, resilience, and representation in historically marginalized communities.

References:
 
Elwood, S. (2008). Volunteered geographic information: Future research directions motivated by critical,          participatory, and feminist GIS. GeoJournal, 72(3-4), 173-183.
Harvey, D. (2001). Cartographic identities: Social representation and geographic information systems.               Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 91(1), 1-11.
Schlossberg, M., & Shuford, E. (2005). Deliberative GIS: GIS as a tool to support community decision-               making. URISA Journal, 16(2), 15-29.
Shannon, J., & Walker, J. (2018). Doing Community Geography: Lessons from Case Studies. Routledge.
Sieber, R. (2006). Public participation geographic information systems: A literature review and                           framework. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 96(3), 491-507.

by Olivia Yahne

This semester my classmates and I are participating in a service-learning course in which our objective is to research and compile information about the individuals/families of those buried in the Brooklyn Cemetery here in Athens-Clarke County. While we have spent a majority of the semester in the lab, collecting and compiling data, we have also completed our first site visit to Brooklyn Cemetery in order to get a better understanding of the environment we are researching. Our class then split into groups, dividing up the family plots, so we each had specific people to research, and my group was assigned the Cole/Woodall family which consists of six individuals. We began this course by interacting with some readings by Donna Haraway, Norström, and Cunliffe and Karunanayake to gain a better understanding of why this project is important, how we can provide unbiased information when conducting a project like this, and how our findings will affect the Brooklyn Cemetery community. The next week we spent familiarizing ourselves with the project (and what we hope to achieve with it), data we would be utilizing for this course, and dusting off our GIS skills (mainly in QGIS).

I can’t speak for the rest of my classmates, but the first few classes I truly got a sense of how important this project was simply regarding the lack of information available to us when trying to collect data. In addition, once we completed our trip at the Brooklyn Cemetery, I was surprised at the conditions the environment was in; the littered pathway, the lack of identification markers, and the outside factors such as the school and house plotted on the sides of the cemetery. The next few classes consisted of more focused research, where we personally looked into a specific family to create a solid foundation to ensure our baseline data (conducted by previous members of this GIS course) was correct and once that was ensured we broke into our small groups. We have utilized FamilySearch, Athens city directories, Ancestry library edition, photos, etc. to compile background information about the individuals of our specific families including information ranging from their date/place of birth to how many hours they worked per week or if they could read/write. These past few classes have been wrapping up this compilation of data and our next steps will entail creating a digital archive and map of Brooklyn Cemetery.

This course and project have been particularly interesting to me as a lot of the recent classes I’ve taken have revolved around the “othering” of individuals/groups which is often prevalent in the landscape of these communities. It is evident with the geography of Brooklyn Cemetery as the conditions reveal past and continued acts of discrimination and prejudice, yet the current day efforts highlight the strive to preserve, improve, and empower the cemetery and the community. A particular class that stood out to me was when Dr. Shannon had Ms. Linda Elder Davis, the cofounder of the Friends of Brooklyn Cemetery community group, come speak to us about her experiences within the cemetery and its community. Her insights and connections provided valuable information that could not be obtained through digital archives in which she even provided contacts of certain descendants still in the area who might be able to provide further data. Her efforts and dedication once again drove home for me how important this project and service-learning projects as a whole are to communities on a multitude of scales.

In addition, a class that stuck out to me was the day after we did our first site visit to Brooklyn Cemetery where we discussed the experience. The conversation pertaining to the abundance of trees and the concealing canopy was a particularly interesting discussion as some people found that the number of trees further added to the concealment and secretion of the cemetery and the community it serves. Others felt like the opposite was true, that the trees not only added to the quiet beauty of the cemetery but also represented continuation of life and resilience regarding the intertwining of the gravesites and the trees. This project has provided me with readings that have expanded my understanding of the work geographers do and why they do it, the opportunity to improve my technical GIS skills by broadening my knowledge of software such as QGIS, and the ability to create something that will positively influence a historic landmark and the community involved. I am grateful for this opportunity and am looking forward to continuing to expand the archives available for Brooklyn Cemetery as well as helping restore a sense of identity in the community. 

Olivia Yahne is an undergraduate student majoring in Geography and Disaster Management. 

Keywords: Brooklyn Cemetery, data, research

by Logan Wiley 

I love cemeteries – they make me feel grounded, connected to some deep historical truth. For the greater part of my second year as an undergraduate, I ran every morning through Oconee Hill Cemetery near my residence hall. I remember spiraling up the path around the tallest point and reading the names on the obelisks sticking out from the summit: Lumpkin, Hull, and others found elsewhere on building facades and street signs around the University of Georgia (UGA) campus and surrounding city of Athens. Even in death, elevation represents recognition; at the historically Black Brooklyn Cemetery a few miles away from Oconee Hill, neglected gravesites sink into the earth.
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The racial inequalities between the burial grounds of Athens define this year’s Community Geographic Information Systems (CGIS) course at UGA, which focuses on the families buried in Brooklyn Cemetery. Joining my classmates and instructors to familiarize ourselves with the space, I arrived at the cemetery on a cool sunny afternoon. Ten minutes early, I walked from end-to-end and back – the grounds are relatively small and have shrunk over time. Even now, you feel a sense of encroachment from a residence, a church, and the newly-built Clarke Middle School on the north end of the eleven-acre plot. According to Ms. Linda Davis, the co-founder of the Friends of Brooklyn Cemetery, numerous people are likely buried under the buildings that dot the perimeter. A small “Black Lives Matter” banner on the side of the house facing the paths indicates to me that the residents are aware of their position next to (or maybe on top of) a Black cemetery. I passed a church member talking on the phone and another early classmate before reaching the fence separating the cemetery from the school. Thanks to the new construction, you can see clear across the massive parking lot to one of the more-frequented areas of Athens: a shopping mall with a Kroger, some clothing stores, and a fitness center. It feels like the cemetery is surrounded by a force slowly exposing what Ms. Linda calls “sacred ground”. What happens when a burial site moves from being ignored and neglected to being acknowledged and still neglected?

As Katherine McKittrick highlights in her piece Plantation Futures, encroachment, disinvestment, and neglect of Black spaces become normalized, commonsense, and inevitable. For decades, Brooklyn Cemetery was left behind, with its stories allowed to fade into the past. Eventually, developers regarded the space as lifeless despite it holding so many lives – In 2006, Ms. Linda joined a teacher at the adjacent school to defend the cemetery from replacement by a playground. Lacking stable funding, the cemetery relies on volunteers like Ms. Linda to prevent the normalization of the cemetery’s relative disrepair and push back against those waiting to build over the forested gravesites.
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Despite the sunken earth, broken headstones, and PVC-pipe markers of the unnamed interred individuals, Brooklyn Cemetery is beautiful. On that January morning, our procession passed under tall, strong pine trees in silence, unbroken except for the crunching of leaves underfoot and laughter from middle-school sports, a reminder of the many generations present around us. Youth ministries, local volunteers, and student organizations from the surrounding high schools and universities visit the cemetery frequently, contributing to its upkeep under the guidance of Ms. Linda. Wooden signage to mark sections, clear maps in sturdy display cases, and stunning metalwork on the front gate all enhance the environment. Far from the narrative of lifelessness imposed upon the cemetery to smooth processes of development and piecemeal land seizure, walking through the grounds connected me to the broader streams of Athens’ history and the communal efforts to preserve, rebuild, and expand the cemetery.

This site visit is one of the first steps in our research process for this year’s CGIS class. As the semester continues, we will tell stories on those interred in the cemetery, focusing on Black Athenian families and their paths through the city across generations. On our walking tour, we passed many of these family plots, full of rich threads that we will later follow in the computer lab through census records, death certificates, and obituaries. Our maps, stories, and data will follow the broader process of opening Brooklyn Cemetery to the surrounding space; I am still learning how to ensure that our work celebrates and properly acknowledges family histories. Given the establishment of the cemetery in 1882, some people buried there have almost definitely become invisible; perhaps under the fingers of development at the cemetery edges, or unmarked by headstone, PVC pipe, or sunken earth. For those documented, we are responsible for carefully and respectfully telling their stories - to the classroom and then to the broader community. In this course, we will join the long line of others before us in caring for the cemetery, doing our best to make sure it doesn’t sink away from the story of Athens.

Logan Wiley is an undergraduate at UGA majoring in Geography and Psychology. He has been working in the Community Mapping Lab for the last three years.

Keywords: Positionality, Black cemeteries, Black Athens, disinvestment, development

by Holden McCullough 

This semester, I have had the privilege of participating in a service-learning course at UGA involving Brooklyn Cemetery in Athens. The service component of this course is important to me as I seek to be a part of community-based projects both personally and professionally. Through my background as a landscape architect, I am particularly interested in the positionality of place, meaning the spectrum of perspectives held by people of different life experiences. I feel drawn to Brooklyn Cemetery and the many meanings that this landscape holds to the individuals who have ties to this symbolic place.
I believe that the landscape is indicative of who we are, who we have been, and who we will become. The landscape of Brooklyn Cemetery is an intricate museum of past injustices, present day dedication and perseverance, and hope for the future. However, these sensations are simply from my personal perspective. Being in the cemetery for the first time reminded me that people experience different emotions and draw contrasting meanings from the same landscape, especially one as complex as an African-American burial ground in the American south.

My first observation of being in the cemetery was how secluded it was. I enjoyed its private and relatively quiet atmosphere – away from any major sources of noise or disruption. It seemed to be a conducive environment for contemplation and emotional wandering. However, I did notice violations of the cemetery’s agency as a contemplative space. The most glaring of these was the house near the entrance, seemingly recently constructed, which imposed its presence into the ground physically, as well as over the greater sensation of privacy in the space. The school at the rear of the cemetery seemed to turn its back on the cemetery, as if to suggest that the cemetery was an inappropriate space to enter or acknowledge. The sight of the recently completed fence affirmed this sensation. I also noticed the various objects that were used to mark graves. Iron rods from machinery, PVC pipes, and decaying headstones marked graves all the same.

However, the great equalizer across the gravesites was the presence of a strong canopy of trees. To me this was the most marked departure from what would be considered a typical cemetery. I found a great depth of meaning in the trees, given that they had intricately intertwined their root systems with each other and the remains of those buried beneath the ground. To me it is symbolic that these people whose lives once were intertwined on this earth are still presently communing amongst each other through the trees. I found it to be a beautiful manifestation of the promise of life after death and that protecting the tree canopy was necessary to retain this meaning.

However, mine is not the only valid perspective. A conversational debrief after the visit revealed that several of my peers had different experiences. Some felt that the secluded nature of the cemetery was an effort to intentionally hide it from view, thus further erasing the legacy of African Americans in the Athen’s landscape. Others felt that the trees were a symbol of the lack of general management of the cemetery, and this further reflected the prolonged injustices experienced by black members of the community. Honestly, I did not disagree with these perspectives. My peers’ experiences were not my own, but this does not make them incorrect in the slightest. Positionality was taking shape within our small group of observers. Furthermore, none of us have a personal connection to this cemetery or anyone buried within it. Who are we to impose our outsider perspectives on a space that has a depth of meaning to the community who is personally connected to the cemetery? This leads me to my broader question: how do we respect the positionality of the Brooklyn Cemetery community in our work this semester?
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This question is of paramount importance to me as we are simply an outsider group of individuals participating in this project for a short period of time in its much longer history and future. I have been dedicating a lot of thought to what position we should take when conducting our research as we document the story of this landscape and its people. This project has led me to adopt a new way of thinking about the landscape, especially the landscapes that I get to touch as a designer. My lived experiences are simply a narrow window into a much broader matrix of perspectives and perceptions. Trying to see outside of my personal understanding and into others has presented a new and important challenge as someone who has the qualification to draw implied meanings from the landscape and alter its physical characteristics accordingly. I foresee that this change in my positionality will have resounding impacts on my service oriented ambitions in this class and in the future.

by Aaron Castro 

This semester, I have had the privilege of taking Community GIS with Dr. Shannon. With it being my first service learning class, I was unsure of what I was signing myself up for. Is this about GIS? Are we going to have active engagement with Athens communities? After learning about the subject of the class, Brooklyn Cemetery, which is a historically black cemetery here in Athens, I realized that this class was going to be more fulfilling than I could have imagined. For context, not only have I been eager to engage with an Athens community/communities, but I recently have gotten interested in the history of Athens as well. In groups, we have been tasked with accumulating data for our respective family plots utilizing various sources online. These include census tracts, city directories, Ancestry pages, and more. Though I have not had much experience with data scourging before, I am enjoying the experience thus far and has proved to be beneficial to my development in working within collaborative group settings.
 
My group's assigned family is the Cole/Woodall family. The initial database for this family had many missing fields which were necessary for further research. These can be things like birth years, death years, and even links between the two families. As a class, we came to an agreement to make a uniform list of data fields to uncover. I was definitely eager to begin our research. Our group decided to split the hefty workload into sources, as opposed to splitting it by the names of the individuals. I was in charge of scouring Athens city directories for information including occupations, employers, residential addresses, and whether they owned or rented their properties. These city directories date all the way back to 1889 so it was time to get to work.
 
Searching these city directories takes lots of time and effort to get every bit of information they provide. Certain abbreviations are listed next to the names of individuals that can represent either their race, occupation, or their tenure to their residence. I found it beneficial to keep a screenshot of the list of abbreviations located within the first few pages of the directories for reference. Working with lots of data in different groups is challenging due to the fact that everyone's formatting preferences will be different. Currently, we are working on getting the class’s data formatted in unison as to correctly display the data correctly. As I combed through every listed city directory provided by the University of Georgia’s digital library, I began to think about how this data does not tell the story of these people and their families. Sure, this data provides info on where these people lived and worked, but what about their personalities, goals, accomplishments, and early lives?
 
This is where the class's data collection is going to come to life. With census tracts, city directories, and other online resources, ArcGIS StoryMaps will be created to give our respective families some background. I have personally never made my own StoryMap, but have seen others’ maps in other geography classes and I am eager to see how they turn out. What I said before, about the data not having any life, will soon be moved into a lively display of the histories of these families. I think what I am most excited about is to give people that have attachment to these families a visual of data that they may not have been able to replicate.
 
I am hoping that when our data collection is complete, and maps are created, that the stories of these families are represented in the best manner to the community. I am keeping in mind that there is life behind this data and should be treated with the utmost respect. 

Aaron is a 4th year geography major pursuing certificates in GIS and urban/metropolitan studies.

Keywords: GIS, Communities, Data, Athens