The cultural memory of plantations in the Old South has long been clouded by myth. A recent reckoning with the centrality of slavery to the US national story, however, has shifted the meaning of these sites. Plantations are no longer simply seen as places of beauty and grandiose hospitality; their reality as spaces of enslavement, exploitation, and violence is increasingly at the forefront of our scholarly and public narratives. Yet even this reckoning obscures what these sites meant to so many forced to live and labor on them: plantations were Black homes as much as white. Insightfully reading the built environment of plantations, considering artifact fragments found in excavations of slave dwellings, and drawing on legal records and plantation owners' papers, Whitney Nell Stewart illuminates how enslaved people struggled to make home amid innumerable constraints and obstacles imposed by white southerners. By exploring the material remnants of the past, Stewart demonstrates how homemaking was a crucial part of the battle over slavery and freedom, a fight that continues today in consequential confrontations over who has the right to call this nation home.

This collection of revealing jou al entries and biographical sketches describes some of the island�s most colourful inhabitants. Interspersed with line drawings, it reflects the land�s rugged grandeur and the people's enduring strength.

This book demonstrates that Mary Midgley's philosophy of evolution points the way towards considering the earth as our only true home, since we are products of this planet and its evolving and complex life along with every other organism. From the knowledge of ourselves as knowing animals with a biological as well as a cultural history, Midgley proposes the elaboration of an evolutionary epistemology that situates us firmly on the earth together with other creatures, while at the same time helping us to build knowledge of the world from the complexity of the human experience. I like to call this approach by a known theological analogy, a view "from below," that is, from the underside of the world, from the realms of nature and history. Such an approach does not begin by assuming conceptions of design or order in nature, a view that we term "from above," although it does not rule out the possibility of teleological or metaphysical constructions of reality in the long run. This "down-to-earth" approach I consider essential for any philosophy or theology that wants to take evolutionary theory seriously while committed to a proper and non-dismissive assessment of religious views.

Since the early 1970s southern fiction has been increasingly attentive to social issues, including the continuing struggles for racial justice and gender equality, the loss of a sense of social community, and the decline of a coherent regional identity. The essays in The World Is Our Home focus on writers who have explicitly addressed social and cultural issues in their fiction and drama, including Dorothy Allison, Horton Foote, Ernest J. Gaines, Jill McCorkle, Walker Percy, Lee Smith, William Styron, Alice Walker, and many others. The contributors provide valuable insights into the transformation of southern culture over the past thirty years and probe the social and cultural divisions that persist. The collection makes an important case for the centrality of social critique in contemporary southern fiction.

In a neighbourhood facing massive redevelopment, racialized residents speak about stigma, social mixing, and what the island community means to them. Based on rich interviews, photographs, and archival research, Julie Chamberlain rejects the usual silence in German urban studies around racialization and examines how constructing some groups as »not belonging« has shaped Hamburg-Wilhelmsburg's past and present. For racialized long-time residents, it is Heimat, a space of belonging in the context of exclusion. As social mix policy threatens that belonging, residents explore their hopes and their fears for the future of an urban space where gentrification looms.