TCB Nov. 17, 2022 — A Sacred Rite of Passage

A Sacred Rite of Passage

Death doulas advocate for compassionate care for the dying.

by Brian Clarey

remember when all this was chat rooms, bul letin boards and Geocities, when folks would go to a paper’s website and spend half an hour or so getting caught up on the news. Then social media came along and gobbled everything up. And now, it seems, it’s vomiting all over itself.

Elon Musk is destroying Twitter — or, at least, everything about it that was worth anything. Meta, which used to be known as Facebook, has finally acknowledged its essential uselessness by “giving up” on news and laying off 11,000 humans.

Is it possible that we are at the end of the Social Media Age? Lord I hope so.

I am pretty sure it used to be fun. I was an early adopter to social media —I still have a MySpace page out there somewhere, relegated to the internet garbage heap along with my Earthlink email address and a couple thousand articles and columns I wrote between 2004-13.

I liked MySpace because it gave me a opportunity to catch up with people from my past, which was a lot more difficult even 15 years ago than it was today. But I guess I never really “got it” in that I never rigged my page to play music when people came to it and I did not yet know what emojis

BUSINESS

PUBLISHER/EXECUTIVE EDITOR

Brian Clarey brian@triad-city-beat.com

PUBLISHER EMERITUS

Allen Broach allen@triad-city-beat.com

EDITORIAL

Sayaka Matsuoka sayaka@triad-city-beat.com CHIEF CONTRIBUTORS

Iwere.

Rupert Murdoch ruined MySpace just by buying it, because by the time someone like Rupert Murdoch finds out about something, it is no longer cool.

Facebook opened to the general public — basically people who had aged out of the college demographic, its initial user base — in September 2006; I had a page by 2007, and I loved it for looking at old girlfriends’ vacation pics and analyzing who had aged the worst since high school. Olds like me took over Facebook in short order, pushing the young people to the margins while we took the NY Times quiz and got into arguments about politics. They never came back. None of my kids, ages 18-22, are on Facebook.

Twitter, for me, was different. I used it to follow breaking news, keep up with journalists I respect and people who make me laugh. I never felt the need to include my extend ed relatives or old friends from the neighborhood in my feed. And I got more out of it than I put in, for sure.

But like everything else, it seems, Twitter sucks now.

I don’t Tik-Tok. I won’t Mastodon. There’s nothing else out there for me, and I know I’m not alone.

Still, I’m hoping there’s no “next big thing” in social media. Perhaps at one time these networks were too big to fail, but now they’ve become too big to succeed.

1451 S. Elm-Eugene St. Box 24, Greensboro, NC 27406 Office: 336.681.0704

WEBMASTER

by MICHAELA RATLIFF

THURSDAY Nov. 17

Amplify @ Milton Rhodes Center for the Arts (W-S) 7 p.m.

FRIDAY Nov. 18

The Play That Goes Wrong @ Winston-Salem Theatre Alliance (W-S) 8 p.m.

SATURDAY Nov. 19

November Art Gallery Artist Reception @ the Brewer’s Kettle (HP) 7 p.m.

Arts Council of Winston-Salem & Forsyth County is excited to announce Amplify, a monthly local music series curated by guest artist Spencer Aubrey that puts community musicians and performance artists in the spotlight to showcase their talents. Purchase tickets at intothearts.org/ campus-events/amplify

Get the full events calendar by signing up for the Weekender, straight to your inbox every Thursday. pico.link/triadcitybeat

What do you get when you mix Monty Python, the mystery of Sherlock Holmes and clumsy amateur actors? The Play That Goes Wrong. Watch as Corn ley University Drama Society puts on a hilarious production of The Murder at Haversham Manor, or tries to. Purchase tickets at theatrealliance.ws/ box_office

Live Band Emo Karaoke @ Boxcar Bar + Arcade (GSO) 9 p.m.

Head to Boxcar’s private event space and sing all your favorite emo hits by Fall Out Boy, My Chemi cal Romance and more with the support of a live band. Visit the event page on Facebook for more information.

This month’s art collection features several artists’ interpretations of the four seasons. Enjoy a drink and chat with the artists about their inspirations for the pieces. Visit the event page on Facebook for more information.

SUNDAY Nov. 20

Black Violin — The Give Thanks Tour @ High Point Theatre (HP) 7:30 p.m.

Join classically trained string players Wil B. (viola) and Kev Marcus (violin) for storytelling accom panied by string melodies characteristic of the holiday season. The “Showtime at the Apollo” win ning band earned a Grammy nomination for Best Contemporary Instrumental Album.

Doors open at 6:30. Purchase tickets at highpoint theatre.com

Clues of Displacement: The Gentrification of Winston-Salem’s Silver Hill

by Daniel J. Rose and Thomas P. Flynn

The following excerpt is taken from the article “Clues of Displacement: The Gentrification of Silver Hill,” a chapter from the book What People Leave Behind: Marks, Traces, Foot prints and their Relevance to Knowledge Society, published in October.

What people leave behind can provide insights into larger social forces and historical contexts. Physical remnants of older communities can inspire explorations of the past. When traces of previous settlements are located near newer buildings and infrastructure, they suggest a story of social change. Investigating this change can illuminate histories shaped by social structures, power dynamics and human experiences that reveal much about the people that came before and what led to the neighborhood’s present-day state. Such clues of displacement linger today in the spaces of a community formerly known as Silver Hill.

Silver Hill was a settlement that began in the 19th Century just west of Winston, NC (as the city was known before it merged with the town of Salem in 1913). Although it was overshadowed by larger African American communities in East Winston and other parts of the city, Silver Hill epitomizes many facets of post-Re construction history in the Southern United States. Within the enclave, the building of a vibrant African-American community, the hardening lines of segregation, the encroachment of a wealthy, white community, struggles for racial justice and eventual displacement can all be found. This displacement, which took place over several decades from the late-19th to mid-20th Century, was a form of gentrifica tion. As the industrial expansion of Winston-Salem proceeded, the neighborhood became surrounded by wealthy white developments which cut off road access to their homes. African Americans resisted this encroachment and continued living in Silver Hill through the 1970s, but the development of new housing geared toward wealthier buyers eventually replaced the original homes and residents. This history serves as an important study because gentrification continues to be a focal point of concern for many communities of color.

First Traces of Silver Hill

The name Silver Hill first surfaced in a plat map recorded on Sept. 19, 1894, showing 33 lots owned by William Edward Franklin. The map lays out two streets running north and south — Holiday Street to the west and Lincoln Avenue to the east. Cross Street bisects the neigh borhood going east and west.

In 1886, a congregation of African Americans of the Primitive Baptist faith ac quired land for a church just west of the lots that came to be known as Silver Hill. The church was called by several different names but was most commonly known as “Antioch Primitive Baptist Church.” The nearby West End Baptist Church (also an African-American congregation) purchased three acres of land adjacent to the church for a cemetery in two separate transactions dated 1907 and 1908. There were several African-American families already in the area before it became known as Silver Hill. These included the Cain family, which was headed by Emaline and Richard “Dick” Cain. They purchased their property in 1881 for $15. They held this property at the eastern edge of Silver Hill until 1917, when they sold it for $2,000 to real estate developer William L. Ferrell. It would eventually become part of the new, upscale Buena Vista neighborhood. The expensive home that stands on the former Cain lot today was built in 1939, leaving no obvious trace of its connec tion to Silver Hill.

The first known newspaper mention of Silver Hill was in the Western Sentinel published on Aug. 11, 1898. It states that, “An immense crowd attended the colored camp-meeting at Silver Hill, near Winston, Sunday.” Camp meetings were religious events where worshippers congregated in rural areas for an extended period of time to live and pray together. They were particularly influential in the Piedmont region of western NC, where Silver Hill lies. The newspaper goes on to state that the crowd “came in from Reidsville and other places to attend a Primitive Bap tist meeting.” This detail might help explain the appeal of the community to the McCollum family of Rockingham County (where Reidsville is located), as many of their children made Silver Hill their permanent home.

(left) Descendants of the McCollum family gathered in Silver Hill.

(right) Aunt Angeline’s birthday party at Silver Hill in Winston-Salem, 1943.

COURTESY PHOTOS

West Highlands and Buena Vista Surround

Starting in the 1910s, Silver Hill became surrounded by wealthy, white neighborhoods. Developers of the West Highlands and Buena Vista neighborhoods built some of the city’s most elite housing stock for executives of tobacco and other industries. The Cain property be came the site of one such house. After the Cains left the area, a peculiar section was added to a March 26, 1925, deed transfer of the property:

This description also includes a 10-foot-strip running along the South side of that part of said lot 17D sold to Linville K. Martin and shown on said map as an alley. To that of the description this grantor only conveys all its right, title and interest in same, and does not covenant or warrant to defend the title as to that part of the property.

A plat map of Buena Vista shows this alley leading into Silver Hill from Haw thorne Road along the edge of the former Cain property and the two properties adjacent to it. This alley served as an “old traveled way or farm road leading from what is now Hawthorne Road through Silver Hill.” This had served residents of Silver Hill as the entrance to their community for several decades. However, the de velopers of Buena Vista claimed the road as part of lots 101, 102 (the former Cain property), and 17C, which were to become the property of wealthy white residents in the new neighborhood. This left Silver Hill residents without a way in and out of their community, as the alley they had used was now located on private property.

Residents of Silver Hill fought back. They gathered petition signatures demand ing the city build a road to get in and out of the neighborhood and presented their demand to the Winston-Salem Board of Aldermen. The aldermen commissioned a report from the Public Works Committee, which in turn presented their findings to City Attorney Fred Parrish. On Dec. 2, 1927, Parrish told the Board, “I feel that these colored people who built their homes on a well-defined cartway which led from Winston-Salem to a church and graveyard have been bottled up, but I do not think it is a fight of the city, as we have all of the streets and highway we can look after, without seeking others.” The Board of Aldermen rejected their request while unanimously approving road construction for several other communities, including Buena Vista.

Despite the setback, residents of Silver Hill found new ways to get to and from their homes. As the years went by and development continued at a brisk pace, Sil ver Hill became connected to other roads in the surrounding area. Their efforts to resist the enclosure and persistence after losing their old entrance to the neighbor hood speak to an incredible resilience forged by a small, close-knit community.

A Gradual Gentrification

Azoning map from 1930, predating the notorious Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) redlining maps of the late 1930s, clearly demarcates Silver Hill as an A-2 residence district as compared to the A-1 district ratings given to the surrounding West Highlands and Buena Vista neighborhoods. These designations had an effect similar to later HOLC maps, warning that investments would be risky in the Silver Hill area and steering capital away from the African-American community.

City services came very slowly to Silver Hill. The neighborhood was annexed by the city in 1920. But it did not receive the basic infrastructural investments afforded to its wealthy, white neighbors. In 1936, the city teamed with the state of North Carolina using federal Works Progress Administration (WPA) funds to finally construct a sewer and water system in Silver Hill. The undertaking was fraught with delays, including a zoning dispute between the city and wealthy industrialist P. Huber Hanes, Sr. that held up construction.

On Easter Monday in April 1942, the Antioch Primitive Baptist Church was destroyed by a fire. Fire Chief MG Brown told the newspaper that the church was not believed to have much financial value. This dismissive attitude toward the loss of the community’s foremost institution is contradicted by Chenita Barber Johnson, a Silver Hill descendant and historian of local African-American life. She indicates that losing Antioch Primitive Baptist Church had a profoundly negative impact on the families who were connected with it. After their church was gone, West End

Baptist Church (almost two miles away) became the religious home of many Silver Hill residents.

In 1948, the city upgraded the zoning of Silver Hill from A-2 to A-1. Whites began buying up property. Streets were still unpaved in Silver Hill, and the residents were still exclusively African American. But developers began building homes for white residents along the southern end of Silver Hill on Wiley Avenue and Caro lina Circle. A 1952 city directory indicates that Silver Hill would now be renamed Wiley Avenue. Three new homes were under construction on the portion of Wiley Avenue that approached Silver Hill from the southeast. Several more new homes for whites lined Carolina Circle, including five on the southern end of the Silver Hill Cemetery.

Slowly, the original Silver Hill enclave was in decline. In 1956, city directories began listing 433 Wiley Ave., the former home of Ophelia and Henry Hunt, as vacant. A 1958 Sanborn map lists the house as a dilapidated structure. By the early 1960s, white families began moving into the last remaining section of Silver Hill. A decade later, only three African American families remained. By the late 1970s, William Blackburn was the only African-American resident in the area.

What’s in a Name?

T Whe origin of the name Silver Hill is disputed. Multiple sources over the last half century have claimed that Silver Hill was so named because of a witch doctor who lived in the area and was paid in silver coins. Starting in 1970, several newspaper articles were written “in memory” of Silver Hill. The first article featured a claim from a man who was reported to have lived “in the area” for over 40 years. He indicated that his grand father had told him Silver Hill got its name “because Negroes used to take silver change there to ward off witches they believed in.” He added that everyone from those days was gone now, so the story could not be checked. Thus, it appears, a legend began.

On July 4, 1976, the Winston-Salem Journal sourced a man living on Horace Mann Avenue, a street just beyond Silver Hill populated mainly by white residents, saying “It was a colored hill. You know how it got its name, don’t you? Legend has it that there was an old Black man back there who was a witch doctor, and for him to doctor folks, they had to give him silver — silver dollars. That’s why it’s called Silver Hill.”

Although it might be a compelling story of the neighborhood’s past, it appears to be wholly concocted by nearby white residents. And although people around the world have believed in various forms of witchcraft for centuries, there doesn’t appear to be any other evidence that it was practiced in Silver Hill. Claims of witchcraft serve to “other” the former inhabitants of the community, depicting them as bizarre in comparison to their neighbors.

Occam’s razor suggests that the etymology of the neighborhood’s name was probably less complicated than the sensational stories first reported in the 1970s. It seems more likely that the community was dubbed Silver Hill by a developer the same way most subdivided communities are named: with the goal of enticing buyers.

An Incomplete Telling

hen the city of Winston-Salem erected a historical marker next to the Silver Hill cemetery in 2018, it marked another in a series of attempts to tell the story of the community. Similar to other Win ston-Salem neighborhoods, such as the African-American West End (which was cleared for an expressway and a baseball stadium), the history of neigh borhoods like Silver Hill seem to only be glorified after they’ve been destroyed. The same city that commemorated Silver Hill also refused to provide its residents access to their own community after private developers cut them off. Recently, Win ston-Salem passed a resolution in favor of reparations, but has no concrete plans to pay those debts owed to local African Americans. The foregoing history thus begs the question, “What are the descendants of Silver Hill owed?”

Shuffled deck brings a new deal in NC

The election has passed, the results neither as terrible nor as wonderful as we thought they could be.

Perhaps the biggest news of the night in our state was an evenly divided Congressional delegation — seven Republicans and seven Democrats — that finally gives our state fair representation in the House. Fair enough, anyway; registered Democrats outnumber registered Republicans by more than 275,000 people, and unaffili ated voters outnum ber Dems by more than 135,000.

Or perhaps the biggest story of the night was the GOP sweep of our state Supreme Court.

This could have disastrous results.

Consider that on Election Night, Rep. Kathy Manning specifically thanked the NC Supreme Court for her victory, because they threw out the gerrymandered Republican maps that would have resulted in a 10-14 split in the House. When the Republican leadership at tempts to once again gerrymander the state with grotesquely partisan maps, can we count on this new court to put people before party?

Consider, too, that our new Su preme Court will likely be the final arbiter of the Leandro decision,

which dictates that the state in crease public-education spending by many millions of dollars. That the outgoing Supreme Court ruled on a couple weeks ago does not eliminate the possibility of a rerun; this was the fourth time the case has made it up to the Supremes since it was first decided in 1994.

1994! How many of our children have passed through these poorly funded schools since then?

We also know that the NC Legislature plans on passing a statewide abortion ban next ses sion. Though they don’t have enough votes, on paper, to override a guberna torial veto, they’re only one short, and that’s if everybody shows up, which is not always the case.

But maybe — maybe — we’re be ing alarmist about the whole thing. The GOP takeover of the NC Su preme Court is big news only if the court begins to act in as partisan a fashion as the US Supreme Court has since the conservatives took over — specifically the ones who lied to Congress to get their jobs, or the one whose spouse helped plan the Jan. 6 Insurrection.

In other words, it’s still possible that our judges are less scummy than those judges. We will know the truth of it soon enough.

How many of our children have passed through these poorly funded schools since 1994?

End-of-life guides: How death doulas provide compassionate care for the dying

by Sayaka Matsuoka

The first home funeral Abigail Textor-Dobbins helped organize involved a potato gun.

She was living as part of a Quaker community in Oregon when one of her closest friends, Alex, passed away. And rather than hold a common funeral with a casket and a burial, Textor-Dobbins’ friend had his own personal wishes for how he wanted to be ushered into the afterlife.

“We shot his ashes out of a potato gun that he made himself,” she remembers. “His funeral was at midnight. We did things his way; it was epically beautiful.”

Ever since then, Textor-Dobbins has been working as a death doula.

“It’s really exciting and beautiful work,” she says. “It’s hard; it’s heavy, but it’s not scary.”

While many will have heard of birth doulas, or non-healthcare profession als who help mothers and families through the birthing process, death dou las help cater to those who are nearing the end of their life. Many special ize in one aspect of the work, which can include things like home funerals, transition, grief and comfort care.

For Textor-Dobbins, focusing on home funerals has been her life’s pas sion since entering the profession a decade ago.

“Everybody’s different and everybody’s doula is different,” she says.

Because the profession is relatively new, there isn’t a single way to be come licensed or certified as a death doula. However, one thing is clear.

“As a death doula, you can’t offer medical care or medical advice,” Tex tor-Dobbins explains. “We’re non-medical, comfort-care specialists who care for people in transition like someone would care for someone in birth. We’re educated in the dying process and can let you know what to expect. We’re just end-of-life guides.”

Part of the work looks like helping families fill out various paperwork or planning logistics for dying relatives. If doulas are working directly with the dying patient, Textor-Dobbins says, it’s even better.

“We can advocate for their wishes and their needs,” she says. “If you don’t have an advocate, that can fall through the cracks.”

A lot of the kind of work that death doulas do was previously done by hospice workers, Textor-Dobbins says, but because of the dwindling numbers of professionals in that field, they’re overextended and not able to provide the more involved emotional support.

“We are filling the holes in that care paradigm,” she says.

Some of Textor-Dobbins’ favorite parts of the job involve legacy work where she’ll help the client go through their life to figure out how best to tell it. Sometimes that involves living funerals where the patient gets to meet with and hear from their loved ones while they’re still alive. Other times it can look like creating a book or doing family photo shoots. Like Alex, peo ple can plan their own funerals, too.

“They end up being the most beautiful ceremonies,” she says. “The ideal

situation is for me to come in when you realize, I have a certain amount of time left, and I want to make the best of it. And then I ask, ‘Ok, what can we do?’”

Like a birth plan, a peaceful, wholesome death looks different from per son to person. But part of the mission, Textor-Dobbins says, is to destigma tize death and dying.

“I think we’ve stopped looking at death,” she says. “We don’t want to look at it anymore, and it’s been really harmful to us and as a society.”

That’s because when people are more open to talking about and thinking about death, they are more open to talking about and thinking about life, she says.

“We are all going to die,” she says. “It’s extremely unifying. And knowing that I’m going to die makes me look at every moment differently. I look at my son — he just turned one — and I realize that this moment is so pre

Death doula Abigail Textor-Dobbins at All Souls Green Burial Site in Greensboro

PHOTO BY CAROLYN DEBERRY

CULTURE

cious. You can’t be obsessed with death without being obsessed with life.”

Textor-Dobbins sees this effect flow out from her patients to their family members, too. When dying people reconnect with their loved ones, often times those who are being left behind will have a renewed look on life.

“I think the humanity of it all is what gets me,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s oddly the part that gets me the most is the life part. That’s what makes it so fucking beautiful. You don’t live the same without the idea that you’re going to die.”

Looking into the future, Textor-Dobbins hopes the field of death doulas and death work continues to grow. Right now, a lot of the conversations around holistic death are taking place on the West Coast, but soon a large organization will be founded right in North Carolina. That, she says, will help foster more empathy, openness and compassion for those nearing the end of their lives.

“Dying is not a medical thing; it’s a natural thing,” she says. “It’s a sacred right of passage.”

Learn more about death doulas and find a directory at deathdoulasofnc.com. Find Abigail at deathdoulasofnc.com/abigail.

All Souls Green Burial Site in Greensboro

PHOTO BY CAROLYN DEBERRY

Indigenous Artists showcase works and process at Wake Forest University

by Autumn Karen

Sitting at a long white table across from two women inside the Lam Museum of Anthropology on the campus of Wake Forest University on Saturday afternoon, Tamra Hunt reaches across lines of watercolor paints and containers of markers to gesture in wide circles at the blank paper between them. Born and raised in Greens boro, Hunt is a member of the Lumbee tribe and a longtime arts educator in the Triad.

“As an Indigenous artist, I feel connected with the Earth and with my God when I paint,” she says of her work. With its bright colors and organic shapes, her contemporary abstract art is both bold and accessible.

Tamra’s process is not one-sided. Rather, she connects with the physical manifestation of her artistic impetus on a deep level, resulting in an intui tive discourse between herself and the canvas.

“I allow the paint to communicate with me,” she says.

It’s this confidence in the surrender to the artistic process that she most notably brings to her students.

Hunt’s work, along with that of four other Indigenous artists, was on dis play alongside artist demonstrations this past weekend in Winston-Salem in celebration of Native American Heritage Month. While the museum has numerous pieces from Indigenous peoples within its permanent collection, through the latter part of January there’s a special exhibit titled Living Arts of the Hopi on display at the Lam.

Standing at a table nestled inside the Hopi exhibit is Ramson Lomatewa ma, a traditional katsina doll carver, poet, and the first Hopi glassblower. Talking to a museum guest, the former sociology professor is animated as he tells the story of his journey into this world of light and color.

After taking a tourist’s tour of the famous Corning Museum of Glass in New York, Lomatewama recalls saying to the security guard, “I think I found my calling.”

In the nearly two decades since, he’s built his own hot shop next to his house on the Hopi Reservation in Arizona. While he talks to visitors, Lomatewama shows them images of his makerspace, built singlehand edly with a combination of research and welding skills he learned in high school. His space is forged with repurposed materials, including an anneal er frame he made from discarded university bed frames. He teaches glass art for the Hopitutuqayki (Hopi School), passing his passion onto a new generation.

Translucent shapes standing on his table echo the curves of earthenware jugs in the exhibit surrounding him. Glass-blowing is not a traditional Hopi artform, but Lomatewama has embraced it, melding this form of expres sion with his own cultural background to create something unique and valuable. Still, he continues to work to preserve his culture. He helped the museum staff at Lam by going through their materials, filling in catalog gaps, particularly in their Hopi collection.

Through the doorway Erika Reynolds, a Cherokee/Saura/Arawak artist based in Greensboro, sits with her teenage daughter at a long table piled

with yarn, handmade soft goods and informational maps. She’s surrounded by several young people who lean intently over her, then mimic her finger movements on their own projects.

Erika learned finger weaving from her great grandmother, who first showed her how to do it when she was just four or five years old. Now, she teaches the practice in culture classes through Guilford County Schools and at exhibitions like this one.

“Things we do can either help or heal,” she says as her fingers deftly cross strands over one another.

She speaks warmly of the benefits of creative practices like weaving as a way to combat anxiety and stress.

“Nobody’s perfect except the creator,” she tells one of the visitors as they struggle to get a piece started. “If a mistake is there, it’s meant to be there.”

Tucked away in a room near the front of the museum, Taino Boriken artist Jeanette Egan expertly turns a gourd as she burns a detailed plant image into its pale bronze skin. Egan specializes in wood- and gourd-burn ing. Based in Coleridge, she was the chair of this year’s 80th annual NC Gourd Festival.

Though her background is in construction, Egan is now a full-time artist who teaches workshops around the area and sells her stunning creations at pow wows and festivals like the NC State Fair, where this year she was the first Hispanic artist to curate for the Village of Yesteryear. Her intersect ing identities shine through in the bold floral designs on her work, invoking the tropical flowers of Puerto Rico, where she spent much of her formative years.

“The more I found out, the more the artwork called to me,” she shares of her journey as an artist.

The here artwork calls out to visitors through the bustling museum during the Indigenous Artists Showcase, offering depth and connection in celebration of Native culture. Though this special event is only for an after noon, Native American art continues to breathe life into and evolve through these artists all year long.

Living Arts of the Hopi is on display through Jan. 23 at the Lam Museum of Anthropology. Admission is free. Learn more about the Lam Museum at lammuseum.wfu.edu

(left) Woodburning art by Taino Boriken artist Jeanette Egan. (above) Taino Boriken artist Jeanette Egan burns designs into a gourd at the Lam Museum of Anthropology at Wake Forest University.

PHOTOS BY AUTUMN KAREN

BY CAROLYN DE BERRY North Davie Street, Greensboro