All art carries meaning, whether that meaning is metaphorical, symbolic, rooted in deep personal experiences, or purely aesthetic. Black art is among the most meaningful, even in its simplest forms. Being Black comes with baggage, so everything that a Black creator makes is a reflection of Black history.

Art made during slavery carries some of the strongest meaning. For one, art from this time period shaped African American identity and American culture as we know it today. Most of the musical genres, fashion trends, dance moves, and even food that we enjoy is from enslaved people. Beyond the cultural impact, art made during slavery tells us so much about our history – how we got here, and why. This art has carefully preserved African culture from a society that sought to destroy it, and has allowed African culture to live on in different manifestations throughout America.

Music was the first artform slaves were able to use. While captured Africans made their way to America on slave ships, they sang. Africans from all over the continent were lumped together as a whole, with no way to find their families or communities. Singing was a way for people of the same tribe to find each other, and let people know, at the very least, they were not alone. Once in America, slaves used song as a way to keep rhythm while at work or to remind each other of each step of the work process. Work songs provided entertainment and unity, as well as a safety net from mistakes that could cost them their lives. All music of this time had African influence. Musical concepts like drumming, call and response, and various types of rhythm came from African tribal music. We can hear Africa every time we turn on the radio, in folk, jazz, funk, or pop.

Most famously, songs were used as ways to hide messages. Christianity had its origins in the Black community as a way to strip slaves of their traditional beliefs and replace them with European beliefs, but enslaved people made Christianity their own. Slaves identified with the plight of the Isrealites in the Bible, and Bible stories and concepts worked their way into songs. Christianity allowed slaves to talk about their feelings towards slaveowners, politics, and most importantly, plans for escape, under the guise of religion. Many religious phrases were used to describe things related to escape. “Bound for the Land of Canaan” had religious implications – Canaan was a place in the Bible that incorporated Lebanon, Israel, and Palestine, or was a reference to heaven – but for slaves, it often meant heading to Canada or anywhere up north. Similarly, “The River Jordan” could refer to the holy waterway from the Bible, or to the Ohio River escaped slaves followed to freedom.

“Steal Away” was a song an enslaved person might sing if they were planning on escaping to signal others to join or help them. The chorus of the song boasts “I ain’t got long to stay here”. “Sweet Chariot”, with lyrics describing “angles” “swinging low” to “carry me home” was a metaphor for escaping with the underground railroad, which “swung low” down South to “home” in the North. Songs were survival guides – “Wade in the Water” to avoid being tracked down by dogs. Wait until spring to escape, “when the sun comes back, and the first quail calls”, “follow the drinking gourd”, or North Star. Harriet Tubman frequently used songs to communicate with her groups, to let them know when to hide, when to come out, and where was safe. Song was especially important since throughout most of the South, it was illegal to teach slaves how to read or write.

Other art created by enslaved people carried similar practicalities. Some believe slaves made maps in cornrows or in quilt patterns to guide escapees on their journey. Benkos Biohó, the former king from Africa who escaped slavery, is claimed to have suggested weaving maps, codes, and other messages in cornrows.  He also may have suggested people include seeds in their hair designs, so once they reached freedom, they would be able to sustain themselves and their communities with gardens. Others believe different hairstyles signaled if a person wanted to escape, or what tribe a person came from. The same is true for quilting. Some historical sources say slaves stitched maps into quilts, others claim certain quilt patterns were codes – star patterns referenced the North Star for example.

Though I couldn’t find a source that stated with certainty that cornrows were truly used for messages, the history behind these stories reveals something much more interesting (plus, it makes sense we wouldn’t have surviving proof of this practice – it was supposed to be a secret). Biohó founded San Basilio de Palenque, the first free slave village in the Americas. Biohó was stripped of his royalty when he was kidnapped and sold into slavery, but he made it his life’s mission to create a place of prosperity for his fellow slaves. Retired educator Ozella McDaniel Williams told authors Jacqueline Tobin and Raymond Dobard that for generations, her family had created quilts with maps in the stitching. The idea of quilts having secret messages in them likely traces back to her. Whether or not her family used quilts to aid in escape, Williams was able to keep the tradition of quilting alive until her death in 1996, and told stories of Black survival through her role as an educator. Stories about secret messages in cornrows or quilts can’t be proven or disproven, but Williams and Biohó were real people who had an impact on history.

Even if both legends are untrue, they are part of African American folklore, a powerful artform whose origins are often forgotten. Oral storytelling is an important aspect of African heritage. Enslaved people used traditional story concepts and symbols from Africa to explain their feelings under captivity. Rabbits play central roles in many African stories, and are portrayed as witty tricksters. In America, African slaves used stories about rabbits, commonly known as Br’er Rabbit stories, to vicariously experience escape and power over their captors. When we think of Br’er Rabbit today, it’s in the context of Uncle Remus or Sound of the South, both appropriations reinterpreted with racist motifs for white audiences, but the origins of these stories are in Africa.

Much of Black heritage is framed in whiteness. Something as simple as “southern comfort food” is framed as a “wholesome”, white-bread American tradition, but can almost entirely be attributed to slaves. Phillis Wheatley personifies this phenomenon. Wheatley was the first published African American poet, and was well known among colonists. She was able to meet some of the most prominent politicians in America, including slave owner George Washington, because of her popularity and success. Her husband, John Peters, owned several businesses and was known as an intellectual.

Despite both Wheatly’s and Peters’ success, they were often celebrated in the context of the white people around them. The Wheatley family, who owned Phillis, were credited for her success. Sure, they taught her how to read and write, they helped get her works published, but at the end of the day, they still owned her. While Phillis achieved praise in England and in the colonies, she worked as a servant for her white masters, and was a sort of “fascinating oddity” for the Wheatleys to boast about. In the article I gathered information from (on The Poetry Foundation website), Phillis’ enslavement was described as a privilege – free from “slavery’s treacherous demands” and also “he harsh economic exclusions pervasive in a free-black existence”. John Peters was called “a remarkable specimen of his race” by author Merle Richmond in her biography of Phillis Wheatley. The way they were described almost feels like the talents of Phyllis and John had to be undermined to accommodate their blackness.

White, Anglo-Saxon society has tried to diminish the brutality of slavery since before the Civil War. If slave owners were “kindly” and “gentille” and slaves were “eager, appreciative” servants, how could slavery be so bad? The institution of slavery attempted to erase Blackness and dehumanize Black people, but slaves, like their ancestors today, were resilient. I think it’s wrong to look for a “silver lining” in slavery – pointing out the positive remnants of an atrocity makes it seem less horrible than it actually was. Instead of crediting Black and American culture to slavery, maybe we should credit Black ingenuity – which has had the might to live on through every wicked white act.