A Woman Called Minty by Jayla Nickens-Gill
The students were tasked to enter one of three doors, marked YESTERDAY, TODAY, or TOMORROW.
YESTERDAY would allow them to experience any historical event, but not change the outcome. TODAY would place them in the middle of any current event. And TOMORROW would take them forward 12 years to celebrate what would then be Mr. Tom’s 80th Birthday.
JAYLA feels the pain of slavery and meets a woman called Minty.
A Woman Called Minty
I open the door to Yesterday. I walk through and it feels like I’m falling until, suddenly, I slam into the ground. I look around and see nothing but African Americans being whipped, people crying out, others picking cotton. Suddenly, a huge force connects with my face. I cry out in pain only to be hit again. The brutal force inflicted on me left me extremely confused. After a while, the hits stopped, and the white man walked off. My body ached. The amount of pain was enough to make someone want to end their life.
“Get up” a woman said. “Get to work before he brings more.”
The woman walked off and went back to doing the tasks given to her. I managed to sum up enough energy to get close to her. I started picking cotton as well, my body still burning from the punishment before.
“Where am I?” I asked
“Dorchester County” the woman said
“W-What’s your name?” I asked the woman
“Minty” she said. “Stop talking before you get us both whipped or worse… killed.”
I nodded and continued picking the cotton. My fingers bled and hurt after 12 hours of picking. Finally sunset came and we were told to go to our slave quarters. It was terrible, the smell was horrible and the bathroom, or bucket, was always filled with poop and urine. Other slaves were getting sick, and most of them died inside the quarter. We were told to move the dead slaves, so the white man could make room for the new ones.
Years passed. It was now 1844, and Minty was long gone. She managed to escape after getting married. I longed for her to come back and save me from the constant punishments. Since she left, I’ve been whipped brutally. I’ve lost two of my fingers, been raped, hung by my arms and feet. I can’t even remember my own name or what I look like. I’ve lost an insane amount of weight, I feel sick and I know I look dead, might as well be dead. My back has fresh wounds that I know are infected. Other slaves try to help with my injuries but without proper medication and medical care, it’s no use. My hands are covered with dry blood and cuts, my legs have markings from whippings, and my hair has mostly fallen out. I can’t walk straight for I fear my wounds that have slightly healed might rip open.
More years pass and the plantation has been looking less full. Many slaves have disappeared. The white man grew angry, whipping any slave he saw slacking, or moving too slowly. Night came, and I was awoken by a familiar face. Minty. She told me to be quiet and never make any sound if I wanted to leave alive. We went through an extremely long journey. I don’t know how many days went by but it felt like forever. Many slaves were lost along the way, many died from their injuries, and many were spotted and killed. Although I felt like I was slowly dying with every step I took, I refused to go back. I had to keep moving.
It was now 1859. I am now a free woman. After Minty, now known as Harriet Tubman, helped me escape, I married and live in a small house. The trauma stays with me. When I look in the mirror, my scars remind me of the past.
I opened the door to my room and a white light flashes me. I’m back in the present, sitting at the table, staring at my computer screen. I think I’m going to write about slavery.
Jayla Nickens-Gill
12/2/2022