We were given time to explore the vast acreage and beautiful surroundings of the Sonesta Hotel during our visit to Hilton Head, South Carolina. I was in awe at the immaculate grounds, the incredible variety of trees, and the gorgeous summer homes that surrounded this estate.

But in the middle of this beauty stood something that seemed out of place. It looked like the remnants of a watchtower. Like many experiences I had during this journey to learn about the Gullah Geechee culture, the juxtaposition of this relic with the five-star resort gave an audible halt to any idea I had of being caught up in the beauty of these lands.

Was it indeed a watchtower? I couldn’t say for sure as it seemed to be in a bit of a dilapidated state. Pieces formed what appeared to be a watchtower, but it was definitely some type of lookout. My mind raced with the history, the atrocities, and the secrets this land held. This watchtower reminded me of the ones in prisons with guards who sat poised to shoot anyone trying to escape. This watchtower reminded me of the inhumane overseers who kept a close eye on any slave who would dare to even think about disobeying, let alone fleeing in a desperate attempt to escape this plantation. This watchtower represented the contradiction of a feigned appearance to attempt to preserve history while simultaneously being a leftover symbol of those who continue to erase historic Gullah Geechee lands.

Did they use the watchtower to look out into the seas to warn everyone of coming danger? Did they use the watchtower to have a better view of the land that was stolen from its rightful inhabitants? Or did they use the watchtower to signal when the next slave ship was bringing the next group of my ancestors to this foreign shore, unknowingly awaiting the trials, tribulations, and trauma chattel slavery had in store for them?

My fellow writer and I walked over to the watchtower, looking to see if there was a way to climb in. I felt a sense of relief when we did not find any access points. Part of me wanted to experience what it would be like to look out at the “view” of this beautiful resort, but a bigger part of me wanted to stay on the ground and continue to imagine what it must have felt like to feel continually “watched.”.

I stayed in that moment for what seemed like forever until I heard someone call my name from somewhere that seemed much farther away than right next to me.

I was ironically brought back to reality by the sound of my name. I thought whoever sat in that watchtower didn’t care about the names of those they watched. They had no name. They had no face. They had no identity.

All the while, they just watched.

Selah.