A few days after Charlottesville, on vacation in New England, I found myself walking in downtown Portsmouth, N.H., and stumbling upon something called the “African Burying Ground.” The modest, memorial, apparently on the site of an actual burial ground, gives testimony to the city’s past as a point of entry where African slaves were brought to this country.

It was a humbling experience, a reckoning for me, a white, native Southerner who has tried for decades to reconcile my heritage, my history, with what is right and what is just.

I was near tears as my partner and I stood, alone in the park, reading inscriptions, admiring the sculptures, allowing ourselves to be caught in the moment.

, Staff Writer, NorthJersey. @BruceLowry21

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