By Jae Newton, Intern
Forward Times
https://www.forwardtimes.com/
The Voices of Grambling Conference offered more than presentations and panels — it offered proof of how much power exists in the stories we choose to preserve, the history we choose to honor, and the communities we choose to center. I went in expecting an academic event. What I found was a blueprint for how Black stories can be protected, uplifted, and reclaimed through digital tools, archival work, and collaboration.
This was the first conference of its kind at Grambling State University, and scholars traveled from across the country to share research that challenges how we remember history and who gets to tell it. As a student and a journalist, I learned quickly that the heart of this work isn’t the technology itself — it’s the people, the relationships, and the responsibility of telling the truth.
Dr. Edward Holt, Grambling State University History Department Chair and the architect behind the conference, told me that the lineup of presenters essentially “selected itself” through the strength of their research. “We put out a call for papers nationwide,” he explained. “Then we reached out to individuals doing deep work at the intersection of technology, humanities, and digital storytelling. We wanted people whose ideas could really bounce off each other.”
He emphasized that groundbreaking work isn’t limited to elite institutions. “There are so many different types of history and technology being explored,” he said. “People are working on really interesting things at regional universities and HBCUs, and our students deserve to see that.”
Throughout the weekend, scholars demonstrated what it means to merge technology with community-centered research. Presenters examined everything from Black student activism at San Francisco State University to the global circulation of nonviolence philosophy, to how digital storytelling can make local history accessible in unexpected places, including along hiking trails.
But some of the most powerful work came from scholars exploring Black Southern history — and the weight, trauma, and dignity embedded within it.
One of the most moving sessions was led by Dr. C. Sade Turnipseed of Jackson State University. Her research documents the lives of enslaved field hands, tenant farmers, and the often-overlooked mule — the animal whose labor powered cotton production “from kin to kain’t” (from when you can see in the morning to when you can’t see at night). Her project restores humanity and credit to the people whose sweat equity built an entire economic system.
She travels to Tennessee to study a large sharecropper artifact collection, preserving the material history of Black agricultural labor. Her work reminded me that historical storytelling can be an act of justice — a way to honor lives that were intentionally erased.
Another deeply impactful conversation came from Dr. Elizabeth West of Georgia State University, whose Data Mining and Mapping Antebellum Georgia (DMMAG) project uses digital tools to trace enslaved people across land records, maps, and archival documents.
Dr. West told me, “Students are the reason we do this work. Your education is enriched when you’re engaging with scholars from different institutions. It helps Black students understand the wider scope of our presence in academia.”
But her connection to this work is also personal. She shared that part of her research involved standing on the land where her enslaved ancestors lived in Harris County, Georgia. “To stand there and look at the place they were in the 1850s — that cut deep,” she told me. “We found a homestead tied to one of the earliest white settlers in the area. I already knew my ancestor was listed on his property, but to see it… to know she was connected to that land in ways that were both brutal and intimate — that was overwhelming.”
Her project seeks to restore identities and lived experiences to enslaved people. As she put it, “We can stop with the idea that they were just shadows. These were full, complicated lives. They lived with hope and optimism too.”
Dr. Jessica Duaterive, whose work spans the National Park Service and the Midlo Center for New Orleans Studies, offered another key reminder: digital humanities is not about the tools — it’s about the people. “The tech isn’t the outcome,” she said. “It’s the research and the stories we’re telling, and the relationships we build by doing the work.”
She stressed the importance of shared authority when working with communities. “It’s shifting from doing research about or for people and doing it with them,” she explained. “Community members know as much about their own history as the researcher. Listening and building trust — that’s what makes projects successful and non-extractive.”
She also emphasized sustainability: “It doesn’t have to be expensive. Sometimes low-tech options are better for community projects. You don’t want to set someone up with something flashy they can’t maintain.”
Throughout the conference, collaboration wasn’t just a theme — it was the practice. Researchers answered each other’s questions. Students challenged ideas. Everyone in the room leaned into curiosity.
At one point, I realized something important: my own questions — as a student journalist still learning my place in academic spaces — were echoing the same questions scholars were preparing to raise. My voice belonged in that room. That realization stayed with me.
Dr. Holt had said at the beginning that conferences like this show students “what’s possible.” Now I understood exactly what he meant.
As the weekend ended, I walked away with a new understanding of how history is preserved — and who gets to do the preserving. I saw that digital storytelling is creating room for Black communities to reclaim their narratives with precision and pride. I saw how collaboration can push research further and make history more accessible. And I saw how much power there is in asking questions and refusing to let our stories be flattened.
The Voices of Grambling Conference reminded me that learning doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens through shared ideas, open dialogue, and a commitment to honoring the lives and legacies of the people whose stories we tell. As I continue my own journey, I will carry these lessons — and this community — with me.
