Melungeon

My surname is Driggers, and for a long time, I thought it told a simple story. Fair skin and green eyes, they said I was German, Irish, Dutch, Scottish, Welsh. But digging into the past, I’ve found a different story.

The Melungeons, they were my people. Mixed blood—European, African, Native American—living in the Appalachians. Their lives were hard, marked by struggle. They carved out a life in the mountains, often shunned by the wider world, yet they held onto their identity with fierce determination.

A newspaper, dated April 4th 1773, a brutal night in Green's Creek, South Carolina. Two men, masked, broke into Ann Driggers' home. She was a free negro, but they beat her, and took her children. It was a time when free negro’s lived in fear, always at risk from those who would steal them into slavery. The newspaper's yellowed pages, brittle with age, recounted the horror in vivid, unforgiving detail. It was a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows, ready to snatch away freedom at any moment.

Johnson Driggers, a free-born mulatto, was another story. Stolen as a boy, sold into slavery. His father, Thomas, fought to bring him back. These were not rare events; they were the harsh reality for mixed-race families. Thomas's journey to rescue his son was fraught with danger, the lengths a father would go to reclaim his child. The court records, dusty and forgotten, told of Thomas's relentless pursuit, his unwavering resolve in the face of overwhelming odds.

William Driggers, a free negro from South Carolina, lost his daughter Amy and her six children to abductors. The fear was constant, the threat ever-present. William's testimony, given in a trembling voice, painted a picture of a man haunted by the loss of his family. He spoke of sleepless nights, of the numbing fear that his loved ones were suffering somewhere, out of reach. The abduction of Amy and her children was a wound that never healed, a scar that marked the lives of countless Melungeon families.

To survive, my ancestors claimed other heritages. Spanish, Portuguese, East Indian—anything to avoid the slave catchers. Aaron Driggers went to court, claimed Portuguese blood to fight his illegal enslavement. The Perkins family, labeled free Negroes, claimed Portuguese roots to defend against slander. These claims were not just about survival; they were acts of defiance, a refusal to be defined by the oppressive systems that tried to control them. The court transcripts, filled with legal jargon and impassioned pleas, revealed the courage it took to stand up and assert one's identity in a world that sought to erase it.

The Melungeons, they started in the 1600s. Families like mine, the Driggers, intermarried with Carters, Collins, Sweats, Gibsons, Mitchells. A web of connections, crossing lines of race and ethnicity. The marriage records, faded and worn, told of unions that defied the rigid boundaries of the time. They spoke of love and resilience, of families that refused to be torn apart by the prejudices of the world around them.

Emmanuel Driggers, born 1620, was my direct link to this world. His life, and those of his descendants, tell an incredible story. Emmanuel's life, pieced together from scattered records and oral histories, was one of perseverance and adaptability. He navigated a world that was often hostile, yet he left behind a legacy of strength and unity.

Now, I see my fair skin and green eyes differently. They're part of a bigger story, one of resilience and diversity. The name Driggers, it's not just a name. It's a word for the strength of my ancestors. It's a reminder of the countless individuals who fought to preserve their freedom, their identity, and their families.

Finding my roots, I feel pride. The Melungeon legacy, it's complex, beautiful. A story of perseverance, more than I ever imagined. It's a story of people who, against all odds, built a life for themselves and their descendants. It's a story that continues to inspire, a reminder that our past is not just a collection of facts, but a living, breathing human spirit.

I find myself drawn to the mountains of Appalachia, to the places where my ancestors once lived and loved. I walk the same paths they walked, feel the same wind on my face, and I am filled with a sense of connection.

The Melungeon story is not just my story; it's a story that belongs to all of us. Our histories are intertwined, that our struggles and victories are shared in the diverse human experience.

Driggers is more than just my name. It's a symbol of resilience to the enduring power of family. It's a story that I am proud to carry forward, a story that I will share with future generations, so that they too may know the strength and beauty of their heritage.