by Amelia Shugart

Cemeteries can be a place of peace in otherwise bustling spaces. For many, they are a space to connect to loved ones. Others, places for historical exploration and curiosity. Tucked between Clarke Middle School and Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Brooklyn Cemetery has experienced both historic neglect and grassroots revitalization over the past few decades.

What do you think of when you think of a cemetery? When thinking of a cemetery, you may think of an expansive lawn-scape with tightly organized burial plots. You may think of old trees or wind chimes. Brooklyn Cemetery is hidden in a forested space: shaded by large trees, leaves blanketing pathways and graves, and various plants growing wildly among the burial plots. It is one of the first Black cemeteries in Athens, a final resting place for many residents located in the Brooklyn/Hawthorne neighborhood. In the late 1900s and early 2000s, the cemetery was disturbed by surrounding construction projects and housing development. At the same time, it fell into a state of neglect due to funding shortages and government inattention. This neglect is evident in the cemetery: PVC pipes as grave markers, vine overgrowth, and sunken gravesites. In recent years, community members have worked to restore the cemetery and collect information regarding the families buried there. Leading these efforts is Friends of Brooklyn Cemetery, a community organization spearheaded by Ms. Linda Davis. Their work, alongside UGA students and faculty from various disciplines, has helped catalog geographic and historical data to preserve the cemetery’s legacy.

In our Community GIS class, we are working to collect and map genealogical data on families buried there. We are compiling census, city directory, FamilySearch and Ancestry records in order to build a StoryMaps that highlights the history, geography and connections within a family buried in Brooklyn Cemetery. With this information, we hope to be able to tell parts of their stories. GIS tools are essential for representing these families’ stories, but humanizing the data is just as important. Publicly engaged research is complex, because we often have different personal backgrounds that may influence our perceptions and experience throughout the project. As a student of UGA, an institution responsible for injustice toward the Black community in Athens, understanding positionality and UGA’s history is crucial. When we started the project, I wasn’t aware of Black history or geographies in Athens. I felt more neutral. Throughout the process, I’ve found myself becoming progressively more emotionally connected to the project, and taking on more of an activist perspective. This is a new experience, because my previous research experience has been largely quantitative and fundamentally neutral. Being actively engaged in pragmatic and community-focused research has expanded my prior perceptions of what it means to be a researcher, emphasizing the importance of being an active community member and an advocate.

A few weeks ago, our class had the opportunity to speak with Ms. Linda Davis. As she talked about the history of the cemetery, she explained the importance of the trees in preserving the memory and physical life of people buried there. Hearing her experiences was incredibly influential in connecting to the project on a personal level. Walking in Brooklyn Cemetery exemplifies this: the tall tree canopy, birds flittering between branches, and patchy sunlight through the dense leaf coverage. While sifting through records on FamilySearch, I was able to find the marriage certificate of Elsie and Robert Callaway. I wrote down the marriage date, then realized that they were married on Christmas day in 1892. Finding this record was early into researching the Evans/Callaway family. Thinking about the couple being married on Christmas day stirred up slight emotion. Feeling a more personal connection to a research project was new to me. This seemed like a pivotal moment in the process of researching this family’s history, because I had never felt any sort of emotional connection to data I worked with. I was reminded of the responsibility of human-subjects research and our place as researchers in facilitating the storytelling of the Evans/Callaway family.

A theme throughout our class and human-subject research as a whole is the complexity of “hyphen-spaces” in research projects. “Hypen-spaces” refer to the fluid and active identities of researchers conducting human-subject research. Positionality and context are key components of identity within “hyphen-spaces” of research. The complexity of “hyphen-spaces” as fluid relationships between communities and researchers is evident in our research process. As an outsider with no prior knowledge of Brooklyn Cemetery, I didn’t come into the project with much of a connection. Through the process, I’ve learned that being both a researcher and an active community member can sustain relationships and foster pragmatic solutions.

Amelia Shugart is an undergraduate student in Ecology, pursuing certificates in GIS and Sustainability.

Keywords: Hyphen-spaces, Community-engaged research, Collaboration, Research

by Carmel Serban

This semester, I have had the privilege of taking Community GIS, a service learning class at UGA. In such a class, rather than simply being taught concepts and information, students learn through working on real world projects involving engagement and interaction with the local community. In this class, we are working as part of a larger effort to rehabilitate Brooklyn Cemetery, a historic Black cemetery in Athens, and to help make the stories of families buried there more visible and accessible. Through this opportunity, I have not only honed my technical GIS skills and gained experience working as part of a team on a real world project, but broadened my perspective and worldview.

One of the earliest discussions we had in class surrounded the question of what exactly community geography is. As a preview to the discussion, we read the scientific paper “Doing Community Geography” [Fischer et al.], which stated that community geography is a framework and philosophy that “offers researchers, community groups, and students opportunities to engage in action oriented applied geographical research.” To me, that means engaging in projects and research in tandem with the communities of interest in order to address problems and or create solutions within them.
Fitting with this theme, one aspect of my experience in the class that I have enjoyed is putting technical skills I have learned throughout my college career to use in the community. As the name suggests, Community GIS is on some level a GIS related class. GIS, or Geographic Information Systems, is a type of software that allows the user to process and analyze geospatial data, and to create maps. While my previous experience in such classes was heavily based on gaining experience with learning to perform technical operations within the software, here, that has taken a backseat to the more organic, human side of geography.

Another discussion early on in the semester was related to the dichotomy of the cold, black and white nature of GIS software, and the inherently “gray” and complex nature of human issues and stories. In the software, collected data is clear cut and completely unambiguous, but through suites of maps, as well as written and visual aids, we are working to tell as full of stories as possible about these families. As part of this conversation, we discussed the frameworks of positivism and pragmatism. Positivism is a school of thought that arose during the enlightenment, and posits that all human knowledge is absolute, and that everything in the universe, including interactions between members of human societies, can be deduced through logic or mathematical proofs. This procedural view of the universe obviously has its limitations, especially when it comes to humanity, but is essentially how computer programs and code work– including GIS. Conversely, while pragmatism is still analytical and problem solving based, it views reality as somewhat indeterminate and observers never truly unbiased.

While working on the Brooklyn Cemetery project, I became very aware of the fact that I can never truly be a fully unbiased observer. Not only is there a lot that I haven’t experienced, but due to differences in brain chemistry and past experiences, I will not necessarily perceive the same events and ideas in the same way as others. One such situation arose during a discussion at the end of our class’s first tour of the cemetery. An unusual aspect of Brooklyn is that rather than a well manicured lawn like most cemeteries, its grounds are covered by a forest. Some of the class, myself included, thought that this contributed to a natural serene atmosphere, and noted the symbolism of continued life in the area sustained by those buried there. However, others saw them as actively hiding the cemetery, and yet another example of the history of neglect and mistreatment of the Athens Black community. While that is not the way I first perceived the tree cover, I fully understand how others could first interpret it that way– and trees aside, it is a fact that the cemetery has been neglected and is in relative disrepair, although there are ongoing efforts from the community to rehabilitate it. This debate strongly highlighted to me the idea that nobody can be a truly disconnected and unbiased observer, and while I think both opinions are valid, the thoughts of those who are a part of the historic community surrounding the cemetery should carry the most weight in this instance. It is their family and friends who are buried there, and they have past experience as being a part of the Athens Black community shaping their perception and decision making– something that I very much lack.

As a whole, I am very grateful to be a part of this spring’s Community GIS class and for everything I have learned. Not only have I been able to sharpen and expand my technical GIS skillset and gain experience working as a member of a team toward completion of a real world project, but I have also broadened my perspective and altered my way of thinking about the world. At the conclusion of the semester, I will take far more than just a letter grade away from this class– and more than technical and soft skills as well.

Carmel Serban is a 4th year Ecology B.S. and Marine Biology B.S. pursuing a minor in Fisheries & Aquatic Sciences and a certificate in GIS.

Keywords: Histories, Brooklyn Cemetery, Community, Data

by Luke Pearlman

This semester, I have had the privilege of taking Community GIS, a service learning class at UGA. In such a class, rather than simply being taught concepts and information, students learn through working on real world projects involving engagement and interaction with the local community. In this class, we are working as part of a larger effort to rehabilitate Brooklyn Cemetery, a historic Black cemetery in Athens, and to help make the stories of families buried there more visible and accessible. Through this opportunity, I have not only honed my technical GIS skills and gained experience working as part of a team on a real world project, but broadened my perspective and worldview.

One of the earliest discussions we had in class surrounded the question of what exactly community geography is. As a preview to the discussion, we read the scientific paper “Doing Community Geography” [Fischer et al.], which stated that community geography is a framework and philosophy that “offers researchers, community groups, and students opportunities to engage in action oriented applied geographical research.” To me, that means engaging in projects and research in tandem with the communities of interest in order to address problems and or create solutions within them.

Fitting with this theme, one aspect of my experience in the class that I have enjoyed is putting technical skills I have learned throughout my college career to use in the community. As the name suggests, Community GIS is on some level a GIS related class. GIS, or Geographic Information Systems, is a type of software that allows the user to process and analyze geospatial data, and to create maps. While my previous experience in such classes was heavily based on gaining experience with learning to perform technical operations within the software, here, that has taken a backseat to the more organic, human side of geography.

Another discussion early on in the semester was related to the dichotomy of the cold, black and white nature of GIS software, and the inherently “gray” and complex nature of human issues and stories. In the software, collected data is clear cut and completely unambiguous, but through suites of maps, as well as written and visual aids, we are working to tell as full of stories as possible about these families. As part of this conversation, we discussed the frameworks of positivism and pragmatism. Positivism is a school of thought that arose during the enlightenment, and posits that all human knowledge is absolute, and that everything in the universe, including interactions between members of human societies, can be deduced through logic or mathematical proofs. This procedural view of the universe obviously has its limitations, especially when it comes to humanity, but is essentially how computer programs and code work– including GIS. Conversely, while pragmatism is still analytical and problem solving based, it views reality as somewhat indeterminate and observers never truly unbiased.

While working on the Brooklyn Cemetery project, I became very aware of the fact that I can never truly be a fully unbiased observer. Not only is there a lot that I haven’t experienced, but due to differences in brain chemistry and past experiences, I will not necessarily perceive the same events and ideas in the same way as others. One such situation arose during a discussion at the end of our class’s first tour of the cemetery. An unusual aspect of Brooklyn is that rather than a well manicured lawn like most cemeteries, its grounds are covered by a forest. Some of the class, myself included, thought that this contributed to a natural serene atmosphere, and noted the symbolism of continued life in the area sustained by those buried there. However, others saw them as actively hiding the cemetery, and yet another example of the history of neglect and mistreatment of the Athens Black community. While that is not the way I first perceived the tree cover, I fully understand how others could first interpret it that way– and trees aside, it is a fact that the cemetery has been neglected and is in relative disrepair, although there are ongoing efforts from the community to rehabilitate it. This debate strongly highlighted to me the idea that nobody can be a truly disconnected and unbiased observer, and while I think both opinions are valid, the thoughts of those who are a part of the historic community surrounding the cemetery should carry the most weight in this instance. It is their family and friends who are buried there, and they have past experience as being a part of the Athens Black community shaping their perception and decision making– something that I very much lack.

As a whole, I am very grateful to be a part of this spring’s Community GIS class and for everything I have learned. Not only have I been able to sharpen and expand my technical GIS skillset and gain experience working as a member of a team toward completion of a real world project, but I have also broadened my perspective and altered my way of thinking about the world. At the conclusion of the semester, I will take far more than just a letter grade away from this class– and more than technical and soft skills as well.

Luke is an undergraduate student at UGA pursuing a degree in Geography and certificate in Geographic Information Systems

Keywords: Brooklyn Cemetery, GIS, Community, Athens​

by Scott Messick

Brooklyn Cemetery is a hauntingly serene space, nestled behind Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Athens, GA. Upon my first visit at the site, I caught myself admiring the space from the perspective of a naturalist. Being surrounded by trees with light shining through their branches and a vast forest floor covered in tall, swaying grass, I felt admiration for the space. Then, as we continued further, we were warned to watch our feet. There were graves all around us. I looked around and spotted that there were, in fact, graves almost everywhere I could see. The thing is, they weren’t like the graves at Oconee Hill Cemetery - only a 15-minute drive away - rather, some had headstones which were broken, makeshift with PVC pipes, or downright missing. Despite the beauty of the cemetery at face value, many in our class said that they felt somewhat negatively about the overgrown forest enveloping the space  - stating that the cemetery felt hidden from the rest of the world. I try to keep in mind that I am accustomed to a certain type of manicured cemetery, and so I will likely, whether I want to or not, compare those cemeteries with Brooklyn cemetery. The space in itself is a beautiful and historically important site, with dedicated volunteers who make every effort to maintain it. Keeping these things in mind, however, it is clear that disinvestment has played a role in the history of the cemetery. Thus, we hope to work with community members who have a stake in its legacy in order to tell the story of its inhabitants.

Katherine McKittrick wrote in her essay “Plantation Futures” about the spatial othering of Black communities as their localities are designated “uninhabitable” and themselves “inhuman” - a practice dating back to early colonialism. Brooklyn Cemetery, a historically Black cemetery, is a space where evidence of systemic disinvestment is visually obvious: ill-defined graves are scattered throughout the grounds (many of whom will never be identified) and paths are covered in forest debris - one by a fallen tree. The cemetery is tucked out of direct sight from the nearby road and further hidden by its overgrown forested canopy. Only a couple people in our class knew of its existence before beginning our project. I personally didn’t. Thus, our project in Community GIS (Geographic Information Science) this semester is to publicize and elaborate on the history which forms the context of the space. In doing this, we hope to recontextualize the space and emphasize its historical significance for the surrounding community. 

As mentioned, our Community GIS course is currently involved in telling the personal stories of the cemetery through spatial narrative - a task entailing archival record scouring, database structuring, image capturing, storymap creation, and engagement with local community members who have ties to the cemetery and/or its inhabitants. Gathering archival data and structuring a coherent database around it as a class is a tedious process, but I’ve found it extremely rewarding. Having uncovered parts of the lives of the Bailey/Green family (our class was split into groups, each assigned a specific family to research), I can only hope that our group’s research fosters a sense of connection between Athens residents and the cemetery, particularly if any descendants of the family still live here. During this process, I’ve come to reflect on the role of cemeteries in community and familial relationships. I, personally, don’t know where my relatives are buried, so I’ve never felt a connection to any particular cemetery. I enjoy walking around in cemeteries, often enjoying my natural surroundings, but have rarely allowed my thoughts to delve into the human side of cemeteries - as counterintuitive as that may sound to some. With this project, it is my hope that our project can supplement and enhance the gentle care voluntarily given to the cemetery with our spatial storytelling.

Part of the way through the process of data collection, we were introduced to Ms. Linda Elder Davis, who described her early life in Athens. She recalled a sense of community at some times, but a looming sense of judgement at others - one which stopped her from walking down certain streets and necessitated the creation of “safe routes” from place to place. This spatial exclusion stuck out to me from her discussion and represented a marginalizing force which shaped her existence as a Black woman in Athens at that time. The spatiality of communities is a central topic of this course which has interested me throughout our discussions, so I’m excited to reinforce Brooklyn Cemetery’s historical importance and the spatial contexts associated with its inhabitants. Telling these stories in a way which empowers the community via the incorporation of their inputs and personal stories will be of utmost importance if we want to ensure a truly collaborative effort.

As we continue developing our projects, I hope to spend more time in the cemetery and consider the personal connections that individuals in Athens may have with the space. It is easy to admire a space at face value, but to understand its context and the impact that it has can humanize it - anchoring it with a community of people and their descendants and helping to give them the spatial and visual presence that they deserve. 

Scott Messick is a 3rd year Ecology major pursuing a minor in Entomology and certificates in GIS and Water Resources

Keywords: Black Communities, Brooklyn Cemetery, Disinvestment, Spatial Narratives, Visibility

by Riley Kline

Most people imagine GIS (Geographic Information Systems) as highly detailed maps or intricate spatial analysis. However, in my community GIS class, we use it for something much more personal, restoring forgotten histories. Our class, led by Dr. Shannon, has partnered with Ms. Linda Davis and Friends of Brooklyn Cemetery to map unmarked graves, document family sites, and guarantee that the stories of those laid to rest aren’t lost to time.

At the start of the semester, we focused on dissecting the “behind-the-scenes” of data collection by learning how to correctly gather information, which also involves building our relationship with the Athens community. We became familiar with the importance of coproduction, recognizing that meaningful GIS projects are about collaboration, inclusivity, and ensuring that the voices of the community are heard. We met with Ms. Davis to discuss her expectations and concerns with the project and hear a brief background of each family. Speaking with Ms. Davis opened my eyes to the deeper significance of our work. Previously, I viewed our research as one-dimensional names, but after hearing her share personal anecdotes, the history came alive. There was an immediate shift in her energy as she spoke about these families, most of which had lived in Athens for generations and she knew personally. I could feel her passion for her community, and I realized the project wasn’t just about mapping headstones or digitizing records, but rather honoring family legacies and preserving their stories. 

We had an opportunity to explore Brooklyn Cemetery for ourselves, and as we walked through the cemetery, it became clear that time had taken its toll. The paths were eroded and littered with limbs, while headstones, if present at all, were heavily weathered. Many graves remained nameless, with only a PVC pipe marking their burial, a bleak reminder of those whose histories risk being forgotten. As we continued through the cemetery, we couldn’t help but silently reflect on the lives of those buried beneath our feet. The silence was heavy, interrupted only by the snapping of twigs and the distant buzz of the growing city beyond the cemetery. The sacred cemetery, in recent years, has become encroached on by new infrastructure projects and residential developments. This increasing intrusion makes it all the more urgent to document and restore the cemetery, so families have a place to remember their loved ones. As Athens continues to grow, the cemetery’s historical significance risks being overshadowed. It was a startling realization that without our and the community’s efforts, these graves and the stories they hold could be lost. 

It is our mission to bring renewed recognition to this sacred space. Our work is not just points on a map, but rather preserving stories, connecting with history, and helping to guard the memory of those who came before us. With this perspective in mind, we refined our approach, ensuring that our data collection methods aligned with the community’s needs. We prioritized accurate, consistent data with clear visualizations that would be useful for families searching for their ancestors, and remained mindful of the ethical responsibility that comes with documenting historical spaces.

Riley Kline is a fourth-year undergraduate at UGA studying Geography with an emphasis on GIS and urban/metropolitan studies.

Keywords: GIS, Community Mapping, Coproduction

by Sarah Justice

Introduction

In the service learning course “Community GIS” at the University of Georgia, our class is working on a project mapping gravesites and recording family history in a historically Black cemetery. Brooklyn Cemetery, located behind the recently rebuilt Clarke Middle School, has served the Black community of Athens Clarke-County and has become a focus for service learning under the Community Mapping Lab at UGA. 

Spatial practices in the past have involved erasure and oppression of African American communities, especially concerning issues like redlining, displacement of Black peoples, and urban renewal. Whether unknowingly or not, the systemic racism and mindset of individuals can perpetuate the oppression of Black communities. However, mapping can be a powerful tool for Black presence, justice, and visibility. 

People engaging in this work–especially students, researchers, or outsiders–may struggle with feeling unqualified or even uncomfortable when representing Black spaces. How do we avoid mistakes of the past and accomplish our goal of empowering and uplifting the Black community? I, for one, have struggled with feeling competent in completing this project, especially attending a university that was established on the foundation of stolen land, slavery and racism (Berry et al).

The Power of Mapping in Black Empowerment

Mapping can entrench and create systemic inequality by misrepresenting or completely omitting histories important for context. Mapping can and has, however, served to expose racial disparities and preserve Black culture and history.

For example, the Chicago Black Social Culture Map (CBSCM) traces Black Chicago’s music and migration history and “exists to preserve Chicago's black social cultural lineage” (Honey Pot Performance). With our current project in Community GIS, we are seeking to help descendants of people buried in Brooklyn Cemetery find relatives’ graves and easily find family histories. Accessibility of community and family history is crucial for understanding one’s culture, heritage, and even oneself. These things help build the foundation for a stronger sense of identity for the individual and broader community.

Coursework for Community GIS included readings on topics relevant to social research and Black geographies. “Plantation Futures” by Katherine McKittrick in particular helped frame concepts relating to mapping Black communities and relating present inequity to past suppression of Black voices. Our readings and discussions have worked to emphasize the ethical responsibility of cartographers and called into question who controls spatial narratives. As we’ve seen in class and through history, mapping is not just about representation--it’s about empowerment, resistance, and restoring erased histories.

The Ethical Dilemma and Learning from Community Involvement

The “tension of positionality” refers to the inherent challenges and complexities researchers face when acknowledging and navigating their own identities, biases, and power dynamics within the research process. In discussing the work we’re doing in this course, many questions have floated around in my head: who gets to map Black experiences? When does mapping become representation vs. appropriation? How do I avoid imposing a narrative as an outsider?

I still feel like an outsider, because I have such little personal knowledge of the experiences of the people I’m researching. I have been looking through census records, ancestry records, city directories, anything that would help me piece together a family history. I have thought back to the many homemade family trees and scrapbooks (including family pictures, newspaper clippings, and more) my parents have shown me. It fills me with a sense of belonging and connection to know so much about my history. I feel like I know more about myself after looking through these books and hearing the accounts of my deceased family members. I started playing piano after hearing the stories about my nana’s, great aunt’s, and distant cousin’s inclination for music. I’ve heard so many stories of my family which have often built me up and given me a sense of pride in who I am and who I came from.

From my own experience, I can understand the effect that the knowledge of my family history has had on my self-esteem and sense of belonging. As humans, we can understand the human experience of others. Instead of feeling unqualified as an outsider, I’ve instead embraced the project and done the best I could to work on recording history for families buried at Brooklyn Cemetery as thoroughly and thoughtfully as possible. I have learned about the limitations and past misrepresentations in mapping, and I can take these lessons and not make the same mistakes. I’ve learned that I can involve the community and focus on collaboration as well as maintain respect in every step of the research process. There are ways to build up the community and avoid misrepresentation and oppression; I’ve come to embrace this research for the potential of uplifting the community.

Conclusion

Working in the community has naturally brought up themes of historical injustice and prejudice, but this class has also offered tools to help with Black empowerment and restorative justice. Past utilization of cartography and geospatial resources by African American groups represent a potential for uplifting and evolving communities with these tools, and I believe the work we have done in this class and continues to be done by engaged and conscious community mapping can further work to serve disadvantaged groups.

Sarah Justice is a senior at the University of Georgia studying Geography with a minor in Disaster Management

Keywords: Brooklyn Cemetery, Black geographies, Inequality, Cartography

by Blake Burtzlaff

This past semester, I enrolled in Community GIS. Going into this class, I assumed that it would strictly deal with GIS, like the other classes I have taken, while on track to complete my GIS certificate. However, I have been surprised by how important this class's “Community” aspect has shaped my learning experience. This class is not just about doing labs with existing GIS data, but about learning to work in groups on meaningful community projects and educating myself on how this work can impact a certain community. As one of our readings states, “Community geography (CG) fosters collaboration between researchers and local groups, creating meaningful partnerships that drive action-oriented research and social change” (Fischer et al., 2021). So again, it is not just about GIS but about engaging with people, understanding their needs, understanding where they come from, and using GIS as a tool to support the communities we work with throughout our semester.

During this class so far, I have come to appreciate the difference between simply conducting research and engaging in meaningful community-based work. When conducting public research, we need to have an awareness of both the technical and social implications of our research projects. We built this foundation early on in this class, where we had a bunch of readings around the idea of community-based research. From simply learning new words, to strongly enhancing my understanding of what proper community research is supposed to look like through class discussions over texts like (Fischer - Doing Community Geograph). Past GIS labs I have done have primarily focused on individual work; during this class, we have heavily focused on group work and direct engagement in dealing with real-world problems. We have learned that good and thoughtful community service work does not mean coming into a space with our solutions, but rather working with these community members to understand their perspectives, experiences, needs, and goals. This class takes a hands-on approach that sets it apart from my other GIS courses by giving me and my classmates real-world experience in how GIS operates beyond the university, especially in learning to seek out or create data ourselves rather than having it provided.
This semester, I have been lucky to be a part of working around the Brooklyn cemetery.

For this class, we all got into groups and were given a family to create a StoryMap depicting somewhat of what their life might look like. Also connecting all of the records to create a family tree. To find data, we have looked through several different resources like Family Search, census data, Athens city directory, Ancestry, Find a Grave, and many more. This has been very different from any of the work I have done in any college class, but I have enjoyed it. This project is not just about creating maps but about
restoring histories, connecting descendants with their ancestors, and preserving a crucial part of Athens's cultural landscape.

While the community and research focus has been central to this course, GIS remains a vital tool in our work. Applying GIS in real-world research settings, especially creating, cleaning, and validating our data has been both challenging and valuable for developing my skills. In the Brooklyn Cemetery project, we've used GIS to enhance our research, such as mapping the “Young” family to help locate hard-to-find graves hidden by nature. My group is also creating a multi-layer map in ArcGIS Pro showing where members of the Young family lived and worked, adding depth to our story map beyond just dates and names.

This class has shown me how my understanding of GIS and working with data can be used to create meaningful social change. Coming into this class, I was interested in improving my technical GIS skills, as software like ArcGIS or QGIS. While I am still eager to continue getting better at those skills, I am so happy with the work I am doing in this class. I enjoy the idea of doing something that can help a mostly unheard community by spreading awareness of this issue and other issues in Athens regarding the mistreatment of black graves, in the hope of change and recognition of the past. In conclusion, I look forward to continuing to explore the intersections of GIS and the “Community” aspect of this class and aim that our class work will have a meaningful/helpful impact on the family members connected to Brooklyn Cemetery.

Blake Burtzlaff is a third-year undergraduate economics student minoring in geography and also getting his certificate in GIS.

by Blake Neumann

This semester, the community GIS class is continuing ongoing work in Brooklyn Cemetery in partnership and under the direction of some of the community leaders and stewards of the Brooklyn community. This includes attempting to add depth to the public record of a number of families buried at Brooklyn Cemetery, many of whom still have representatives living around Athens today. We hope to accomplish this by consulting a variety of genealogical records to piece together stories of the individuals buried in Brooklyn Cemetery, then confirming these details with descendants of the individuals and ensuring we have gathered information that feels like it will allow for the creation of what they feel constitute meaningful stories.

​Personally, I am returning to grad school from having worked in the field of community conservation for the last few years. I spent time working directly with rural communities in the Adirondacks to help them develop a plan for mobilizing resources they had access to, while planning for ways to acquire more support from the state to assist in stewardship of the lakes that supported their local economies. A question I often pondered in that work, and still do in my own work, is: how are land use (as well as other environmental) decisions made in ways that appear democratic or benign, but are designed to serve particular groups at the detriment of others? For instance, a student asked Linda Davis (a devoted advocate of the Brooklyn Cemetery and community) about a home built near the Brooklyn Cemetery footprint (above). Mrs. Davis reflected that during the period that the University of Georgia owned the site, they had sold a plot (at that time, part of the cemetery) to fund maintenance efforts. The owners of the home built out the plot despite concerns about the potential location of infant graves somewhere in that section of the cemetery. What is the likelihood any of this would have happened if this was a white cemetery? 

​Thus far this year, we have been thinking about what it means to tell stories about the cemetery that connect to a political agenda – such as stories recognizing the continued existence of black communities in Athens, rebuking ongoing efforts of black erasure. We can look to the tattered land use history of Brooklyn Cemetery as glaring evidence of this attempted erasure: the carving off of a parcel here, a parcel there; the disruption of gravesites for construction. However, the stories we have been encouraged to tell are not about these infuriating transgressions; the stories to tell are ones of joy, of celebration, of a proud and devoted black Brooklyn community that continues to pour love and care into a space that connects past to present in a tangible way, reflecting those commitments back into the world, and inspiring other black communities to steward these important spaces as acts of resistance.
 
Telling the stories of the past, of the black families in Brooklyn Cemetery that have existed in Athens for well over a century and tying those stories to the descendants that continue to remain here today is an acknowledgment of the deep and meaningful connection to place exemplified by these families. It is, in itself, an acknowledgment of an act of ongoing resistance to the forms of racism, exclusion, and exploitation faced by these families through time. But more than that, it is also a celebration of these families’ continuing commitment to place and an opportunity to reflect on what this special form of relationship to place means. What does a multi-generational connection to place entail, and what opportunities does it present? As Katherine McKittrick would implore us to think, what kinds of black futurities can we imagine through these deep connections? And how do we get to those imagined futures from here?

​Continually, we have been encouraged to think in class: is the knowledge we are creating useful? We are still in the early days of this project, but continuing to turn this consideration over as we move through an iterative process of collection, dialogue, and reformulation with the community can only ensure that the knowledge being produced through this collective work provides some useful contribution to the important vision of the Brooklyn community. While it is beyond the scope of our engagement, it is also compelling to think: how does this knowledge generate new pathways for more sustainable black futurity in Athens? How can this knowledge ensure more affordable and abundant housing, higher wages, higher enrollment of black students from Athens-Clarke county at UGA, and other forms of reparation that are long overdue to the descendants of the folks that built this city and university? Hopefully our work this semester will ply the leaders of the Brooklyn community with resources to these ends.