Backasswards on the Back River

Dead low tide ought to be the best time to paddle around Tybee’s Back River, but the wind was blowing so strong my nostrils were flapping.

I’d put in my stand-up paddleboard at Alley 3, and in spite of the choppy waves caused by opposing forces of water and air, I’d made it back into Horse Pen Creek without falling off, figuring that even if I had to fight both current and wind on my return, at least they’d be pushing in the same direction. 

Tucked into the salt marsh, the creek was far calmer than the channel, protected by high walls of spartina grass teeming with birds and snails. Schools of mullet frizzled the surface as blue crabs scuttled along the muddy bottom. I glided past the private docks and pulled onto an exposed sandbar to enjoy a meditative moment among the amiable croaks of the egrets and walkie-talkie trills of the boat-tailed grackles, trying, as I’m imagine y’all are, to get a handle on it all.

After a while, my mind settled into a less-frantic series of gerbil cartwheels and I tiptoed back to my board, sidling like a fiddler crab to avoid getting sucked into the pluff mud or having oyster shells shred the soles of my feet. I pushed off and wound my way back along the creek, and with every dip of the paddle I congratulated myself on getting my tush out into nature even if the conditions were less than ideal. 

That is, until I found myself back at the channel, where the wind was blowing hard as ever. Though the tide had begun its slow turn, the water was no less rough than an hour before. I fancy myself a strong lady, but no amount of Pilates planking was gonna match the brute force of this situation. Paddling as hard as I could, I made no progress back towards my shoes, phone, and the Coke Zero I’d packed in ice to reward myself.

In fact, as I saw the spartina grass returning to my peripheral view, I realized I was actually going backwards.

How fitting, I thought as my triceps began to burn. ‘Cause it feels like there’s been a lot of backasswards motion lately.

Several examples come to mind. The upcoming SCOTUS decision—which could be handed down as soon as this week—to revert the federal right to safe, legal abortion back to the states and drag women’s health and safety back into the troglodyte caves of misogyny is an obvious allegory. Similarly, the “new” gun safety legislation agreed upon by Congress, while better than nothing, has the dullest teeth of any personal weapon regulation in the last 30 years. 

I mean, between the Stranger Things haircuts, Kate Bush running up the pop charts, Top Gun in the theaters, and Russia’s return as the world’s villain, it feels like the Vecna demon has clawed us all back to the mid-80s. (I know, I know, it’s already a meme.)

While Mercury has thankfully returned to its forward path, there’s plenty of retrograding happening close to home: This week all of our high school graduates received a gift courtesy of the Savannah Chatham Public School System with a plucky note from Dr. Ann Levett, which would have been a nice gesture if it hadn’t been a children’s book recommended for ages 4-7. Call me a monster (plenty in the parent forum sure did!), but my take is that the book is not some kind of classic that the grads have fond cultural memories of and its simplistic message of “be you” might benefit little kids but infantilizes and diminishes these weary young adults who have lived through a pandemic, Zoom fatigue, and more school shootings than any other class in history. Yeah, I also got big blowback for suggesting a copy of the Constitution would have been more appropriate. *shrug*

Also in the local “one step forward, two steps back department,” the City of Savannah hung the most updated iteration of the rainbow flag in the City Hall rotunda for the first time this month in what seems like genuine solidarity with our LGBTQ+ community. However, at the city council meeting a few days later, four council members rescinded their votes for an amendment to city code allowing the construction of gender neutral bathrooms in public facilities. The code amendment passed anyway, but let’s remember those alderfolk don’t get to call themselves allies when reelections come around. 

Another blast to the past took place recently on Tybee on the opposite end of the island where I was foundering against the elements. In March, the Tybee MLK Human Rights Organization hosted a well-attended and incredibly moving ceremony honoring the enslaved people quarantined near this spot almost 300 years ago after their horrific Transatlantic passage. The commemoration was held on a shady pie slice of land near Lazaretto Creek that the organization had used before for its events, always securing permission from the city’s Public Works department. 

Imagine the surprise when Mark and I showed up to watch the sunset last week at what’s been referred to as Battery Park for ages and found the area roped off with “Private Property” signs posted all around. Turns out, back in 2006 a private developer was going to deed the parcel over to the City of Tybee in exchange for building a bunch of beach McMansions on the rest of the tract, but the owner ceded the property after the real estate crash and the deal was never done. So it’s not a public park after all and never was, according to its current owners.

Another sunset spot ruined :(

In a polite but uninformative phone call, a representative of HAAR LLC told me the city has never had any authority over this spot and that they felt compelled to put up the ropes and signs for liability purposes after seeing coverage of the Lazaretto Day event on the local news. Why city staff continued to mow the grass on and grant access to a piece of private property for the past 15 years remains a small mystery. 

In an emailed statement, Assistant City Manager Michelle Owens said that the city is aware of the confusion and working to understand the situation. Owens herself has been instrumental in assisting Tybee MLK and avows that the city remains “committed to the Lazaretto Coalition’s goal to commemorate the journey of enslaved people and their connection to Tybee Island.” 

In any case, the permanent monument planned for this spot to tell the story of the Africans who set foot here three centuries ago has been delayed indefinitely.   

This, coupled with the shameful impediment of the work done to rename a Savannah square in honor of the great Susie King Taylor, derails the significant recent headway made to uplift and include local Black history into the mainstream narrative. Talk about backasswards. 

The good news is there’s opportunity to enjoin progress this weekend as Savannah hosts more Juneteenth celebrations than ever. Already a hit with the Ardsley Park coffee set, the vibrant changemakers of the The Culturist Union will kick off their official grand opening with a Juneteenth soirée on Friday evening. Though the afterhours storytelling tour of the Owens-Thomas House & Slave Quarters with Vaughnette Goode-Walker and Dr. Amir Jamal Touré that same evening is already sold out, these captivating historians will take their place on the steps of the Jepson on Saturday to pour libations in their annual homage to the ancestors. 

The Tybee MLK Juneteenth Festival at the Pier & Pavilion promises to be a jubilant gathering, with two full days of edutainment along with electrifying jams by Xulu Prophet, powerful poetry from Patrice Jackson and Aiysha Sinclair, artisan vendors like Nun-Fula Guardians of the Culture and plenty of phenomenal conversation.

Important note: The beloved Sunday morning wade-in with Sistah Patt Gunn will be held on the island’s south end this year, not at North Beach as in previous years. 

“It was a much-discussed change,” says Tybee MLK Executive Director Julia Pearce. “Even though most Black history took place on the other side of the island, we thought that since Juneteenth is now a federal holiday, we needed to put it at the bigger beach.”

Event coordinator and multi-disciplinary artist Rafey Johnson agrees that it’s convenient to have all the happenings in one area, adding that Juneteenth’s coincidence with Pride and Father’s Day brings even more inclusivity to the party.

“Our goal is for all people to feel accepted as part of the celebration,” says Rafey, who I’ve never seen without a big smile. “Unity is the only way to move forward.”

Speaking of which, back at the channel on my paddleboard, I was not moving forward at all. I’d love to tell you the wind died down and I made it back under my own power, but instead I flailed around some more and finally managed to wrestle myself onto the wooden marina behind AJ’s Dockside Restaurant like an exhausted gator in a mismatched bikini. 

It was early afternoon and AJ’s was still closed, which meant me and my board were stuck behind a very tall wooden gate. I was contemplating climbing over, which would possibly get me hospitalized and probably arrested, when Tybee locals Carla and Stuart Clay pulled their boat into the marina. They had a key to the gate and kindly drove me back to Alley 3 while I dripped in the backseat of their SUV. (Hey friends, I still have your towel!)

A couple of lessons gleaned from this experience and the others rankling my soul: When life blows us backwards, sometimes it takes help to get moving again.

And when it comes to progress, every step forward matters. 

Keep on paddling ~ JLL

No bikini pics but here’s one of us enjoying the sunset anyway because we’re petty little trespassers