White walls hold secrets. They see all and are marked with the history of our past. Some
secrets are best kept hidden. Some deserve to be locked away and never seen again. White walls keep the memory of the past alive. In Elmina Castle on the Cape Coast, these white walls are haunted by their atrocities from so many years ago. But these stories must not be locked away or hidden. These stories must be known so as not to repeat the past once again. It is now, these white walls will reveal all.

As a group, we entered Elmina Castle. White walls looming down on us, we entered into what was once hell on earth. Beginning in the late 1400s, Elmina Castle operated in the Trans- Atlantic Slave Trade, responsible for capturing thousands of Africans into slavery and shipping them all across the Atlantic. Led by our guide, we were first led to the women’s dungeon. In a dark and cramped place, hundreds of women were forced to live like caged animals on a hard stone floor. Fed only enough to survive and forced to live in their own urine, feces, and menstrual blood, these women endured horrors beyond even what nightmares could capture.

As we stood where this once took place, we noticed a solid dark covering that coated the floor of the massive cell. To our horror, our guide explained that this covering was the solidified human waste of so long ago. I don’t dare imagine what it was like living in it.
Slave traders believed black-skinned people didn’t have souls, so they were treated as
such. Some women were desired by the higher-ranking officers of the castle. These women
would be washed out in the open then taken up to be raped by not one but multiple men.

Those who got pregnant were sometimes freed, but only sometimes.
When it was time for the slaves to enter the ships, they were taken down a dark hallway
where they would sometimes be reunited with family members of the opposite gender for a brief second. As we stood there looking out at the door of no return, the weight of what really
happened in this castle fell upon us. We paused for a moment of silence before saying one vow in unison: “Never again.” Tears in our eyes, we walked out of the dungeon back into the hot African sun. Something had changed, though. Our eyes had now been opened to something we truly hadn’t experienced before. The history books seem to have left out the worst of it.

As I look back at what I have written so far, I have come to realize that these words don’t
capture the experience of what it was like going into Elmina Castle. As much as I try, I don’t
believe any words could ever capture the feelings we felt that day. It’s something you could only understand by being there in the flesh. But this is a story that needs to be told.
I went to a very ethnically homogenous high school. Most everyone was white, and there
were very few minority students. A situation like this led to inevitable racism. There was a
massive problem with white students using the N-Word as if it meant nothing. The rule was you could say it as long as you didn’t say it with the hard R. To explain this further, people could say -gga instead of -gger without any consequences. Obviously this is complete bullshit and it’s never ok to say the N-word, but that didn’t stop anyone. If I ever spoke up, it would only make things worse, so I didn’t. I’ve always regretted not doing more. I had a fire back then to try and make a difference in some way, shape, or form. I just didn’t know how.

It’s racism such as this that partially led me towards the much more diverse University of
Oregon. Now, after having spent three years in Oregon, I know it is not perfect. Far from it,
actually. But compared to my high school, it was definitely an upgrade. However, since
attending UO, I have slightly forgotten just how bad things really are in our country. Going to
Elmina castle has relit that fire within me.

As a storyteller, I feel as if I have some sort of responsibility to share what went on with
Elmina Castle and so many other slaves. A specific set of skills comes from being a storyteller,
and they need to be used for the betterment of our society. I hope that by telling the story of
Elmina castle, I can, in some way, make a difference in what is going on in the United States.
In general, schools fail to teach children just how horrible the slave trade and other
racially prejudiced events were in American history. Just in the past year, politicians have been trying to take away critical race theory from the classroom. How can we accurately portray history to the next generation without addressing these issues? We cannot shy away from the dark side of history.

We need to learn from it so as never to repeat it again. There have been many atrocities within the so-called “greatest country on earth.” Before we can become better,
we must first recognize our shortcomings. I am one voice. This blog post may not reach a lot of people, and it may make very little difference in the grand scheme of things, but it will do something. I hope by reading this today, you have gained some understanding of just how important it is for these stories to be told and just how far we still have to go for racial equality.

There is still slavery going on within the world, and prejudice is still prevalent. To make a change, we all need to take action together. The
biggest thing that stops change from happening is the belief that one voice can’t make a
difference. It can. Use your voice and make a change.