The DNA of Survivors: Following Phillis Anderson's Journey from Slavery to Freedom

Part Two in a Series on Family Legacy and the Kinship Bridge

In my first blog, I wrote about my ancestor Edward Hodgson, who courageously sailed to America in 1836 seeking a better life. Today, I want to share the story of another ancestor—one whose journey to these shores was not of her choosing, yet whose strength echoes through generations. Her name was Phillis Anderson, and she is the mother of my great-grandfather, Robert Anderson.

A Life Pieced Together from Fragments

Phillis was born in 1831 in South Carolina, into a world that saw her as property rather than a person. Census records tell us that her parents were also born in South Carolina, but beyond these sparse facts, her early life remains largely hidden in the shadows of history that slavery cast over so many stories.

What we do know is that Phillis was eventually sold and became the property of ER Hodgson—Edward's son—a man who had a wife and twelve children. Yet in the complex and painful reality of antebellum America, ER Hodgson also had children with Phillis: Sallie, Peter, and my great-grandfather Robert, born in 1861.

The historical record shows me glimpses of Phillis after Emancipation. I have traced her journey to Micanopy, Florida, where a photograph from that era shows a woman identified as the "Maid of Micanopy," who worked for a physician in that city. When I look at this image, I see something familiar in her face—something that looks back at me from my own mirror. While I cannot say with absolute certainty that this is Phillis, the resemblance speaks to something deeper than documentation can capture.

The Search Continues

My last concrete records of Phillis Anderson place her in Savannah, Georgia, living into her sixties. But there the trail grows cold. I don't even know where she died, where she's buried, or what became of her final years. This gap in knowledge haunts me—not with despair, but with determination. I won't have peace until I learn more about this woman whose strength flows through my veins.

Walking Where Ancestors Walked

My understanding of Phillis's story—and my own—was forever changed during my missionary work in Ghana and Benin. In the coastal city of Ouidah, one of the most prolific slave ports of the Trans-Atlantic trade, I experienced something that no American textbook had prepared me for.

With a Beninese tour guide, I walked the "Route of the Slaves"—the actual path that millions of Africans were forced to take on their way to ships bound for the Americas. I learned lessons that had been erased from my education, stood at monuments that marked unimaginable suffering, and felt the weight of history in ways I had never imagined.

At the site where the "Tree of Forgetfulness" once stood, I learned of a curse placed upon enslaved people before they boarded the ships—a curse meant to make them forget their identity and ensure they would never return. Yet there I was, centuries later, standing on that very ground.

The Moment of Recognition

When I finally reached the Atlantic Ocean at the end of that route, something broke open inside me. I didn't just weep—I collapsed to my knees in a travail that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than my own experience. In that moment, staring out at the waters that had carried so much pain and separation, I realized something profound: while Phillis herself was born in America—as were her parents in South Carolina—someone before them had made this horrific journey. Some ancestor whose name I may never know, whose story may be lost to time, had survived the Middle Passage and lived to pass on the bloodline that would eventually lead to Phillis, and to me.

From that day in Benin, I knew with absolute certainty that I carry the DNA of survivors.

The Bridge Between Past and Future

This is why the Kinship Bridge nonprofit and our documentary project matter so much. Phillis Anderson's story—fragmented as it is—represents millions of stories that were almost lost to history. Every photograph I examine, every census record I discover, every connection I make between past and present builds a bridge across time.

Phillis may have been born into bondage, but she raised children who would know freedom. She may have been denied education, but her great-great-granddaughter now tells her story to the world. She may have been forgotten by history books, but she is remembered by family.

The Ongoing Journey

As I continue searching for more pieces of Phillis Anderson's story, I'm reminded that genealogy is about more than names and dates. It's about recognizing the courage that brought us to this moment. It's about understanding that survival itself was an act of resistance.

Every day that Phillis lived, loved, and raised her children was a victory over a system designed to break her spirit. Every smile, every moment of joy, every expression of hope was an act of defiance against those who sought to reduce her to property.

I may not yet know where Phillis Anderson died, but I know something far more important: she lived. She survived. She passed on a legacy of strength that continues to this day. And in that legacy, I find not just my history, but my purpose—to ensure that stories like hers are never forgotten again.

Reflections on Ancestral Strength

As I reflect on my journey, I realize that understanding our ancestors is a path to healing. Each story we uncover is a thread in the fabric of our identity. The more I learn about Phillis, the more I understand the resilience that courses through my family.

I often think about the challenges she faced. The world she lived in was harsh and unforgiving. Yet, she persevered. Her life was a testament to the strength of the human spirit. It reminds me that our histories are not just tales of sorrow but also of triumph.

In sharing these stories, I hope to inspire others to seek out their own roots. There is power in knowing where we come from. It connects us to a larger narrative, one that transcends time and space.

The Importance of Storytelling

Storytelling is a vital part of our existence. It allows us to connect with others and share our experiences. Through the Kinship Bridge, we aim to amplify these narratives. Each story we tell is a step toward reconciliation and understanding.

By sharing Phillis's story, I hope to honor her legacy. I want to ensure that her struggles and triumphs are not forgotten. They are part of a larger tapestry that we all contribute to.

As I continue this journey, I invite you to join me. Let us explore our histories together. Let us uncover the stories that have shaped us. In doing so, we can foster a sense of unity and understanding that is desperately needed in our world today.

This is the second installment in a series exploring family history and its connection to our broader human story. Through the Kinship Bridge nonprofit, we're working to help others discover and preserve their own family narratives, understanding that every story matters and every ancestor's journey contributes to who we are today.