The mystery of the Melungeons -- solved?

by Sandra Parshall

Two continuing characters in my Rachel Goddard series, Deputy Sheriff Tom Bridger and Rachel’s young friend Holly Turner, are Melungeons, descended

from mixed-race people who have lived in the southern Appalachians for hundreds of years. Unlike most Americans, who know where their mothers’ and fathers’ families originated, Tom and Holly have no firm answers to the most basic human questions: Who am I and where did I come from? For them, the quest for identity requires navigating through centuries of misinformation and huge gaps in history, and overcoming an entrenched sense of shame.

Myths and legends abound. Melungeon DNA projects, including a widely-reported study released in 2012, have produced conflicting results and no indisputable answers. 

As the most popular legend goes, Melungeons were “discovered” by explorers 400 years ago, living deep in the mountains in houses with windows, a European feature of dwellings unknown to Native Americans. Their dark skin and straight black hair, together with European features and, in some individuals, blue eyes set them apart from both Caucasians and the native tribes in the area. According to the legend, which many have long accepted as history, they spoke broken English and identified themselves as “Portygee.” Who were they? Where did they come from? And what does the name “Melungeon” mean?
Their self-identification as “Portygee” created speculation that they descended from Portugese sailors whose ship sank off the coast of Virginia, forcing them to make new lives in a new land. Moving into the mountains, as the legend has it, they became farmers and found mates among Native Americans and escaped slaves. Certain names – including Bridger and Turner – have always been common among Melungeons.

No one is certain where the term Melungeon originated, although it could be a corruption of the French word melange, meaning a mixture, the Old English word malengin, meaning deceit or trickster, or the African word malungu, meaning shipmate. Wherever it came from, it was an insult. Melungeons have always suffered from racial discrimination, so it’s not surprising that for most of their history they have despised the label. Those who moved away from the mountains usually left the name behind, and their children grew up believing they were “Black Irish” or Spanish or Italian.

In recent years, largely thanks to Virginia scholar Brent Kennedy’s exploration of his own roots in The Melungeons: Resurrection of a Proud People, many Americans have uncovered and claimed their Melungeon history. The Melungeon Heritage Association, based in Wise, Virginia, has opened a window on the past, and its website (http://www.melungeon.org) is a treasure trove of information.


For most Melungeons, though, the basic questions remain: Who am I? Where did I come from?

A study of Melungeon DNA conducted more than a decade ago by Kevin Jones, a biologist at the University of Virginia College in Wise, was intended to shed light on diseases such as Familial Mediterranean Fever, sarcoidosis, and thalessemia, which appear to occur more frequently in Melungeons than in the general population. Thirty men and 120 women participated. In the course of the study, Jones discovered a rare DNA sequence that is common only to the Siddis, a northern India tribe of “untouchables” descended from African slaves, sailors, and merchants. Brent Kennedy had previously learned through a private study of his own DNA that he was genetically linked to the Siddis.

Results of the more recent study, begun in 2005, were published in "Melungeons, A Multi-Ethnic Population" in the Journal of Genetic Geneaology, April 2012. Participation was restricted to 69 male lines and eight female lines that can be traced unbroken back to Melungeons in the 1800s and early 1900s. The evidence showed that these genetic lines were descended from sub-Saharan African men and from white women of central or northern European origin. The authors of the study theorized that the first Melungeons were the offspring of black and white indentured servants who lived in Virginia in the 1600s, before slavery.

Lead researcher Roberta Estes told the press that the study left “a whole lot of people upset” because it appeared, according to news media accounts, to refute claims to Mediterranean heritage and define Melungeons as a simple black/white biracial group.

But Wayne Winkler, a leader of the Melungeon Heritage Asssociation, doesn’t see it that way. In comments to Blue Ridge Country magazine, he said “there are still a great many possibilities open to exploration.” While the study found genetic links to sub-Saharan Africa in the male descendants of some early Melungeons, it did not rule out Native American or Portuguese ancestry. In fact, one man participating in the study has Native American genes.

Research will undoubtedly continue, because this sort of mystery is irresistible both to the researchers and the people hungry for answers about their heritage. Wherever the first Melungeons may have come from, they and their offspring married not only other Melungeons but also whites, blacks, and Native Americans. Today Melungeons are part of the great melting pot like the rest of us, and due to intermarriage many lack the physical characteristics that would identify them at a glance as mixed race.

Appalachian writers from Jesse Stuart to Sharyn McCrumb have included Melungeons as characters in their fiction, usually presenting even present-day Melungeons as mysterious, isolated, unpredictable and potentially dangerous. But Melungeons no longer live in distinct communities, and many left the mountains long ago. My characters Tom and Holly both have dark olive skin and black hair, and Tom’s profile makes Rachel think of a Cherokee chief, but they are very much a part of the mainstream community. They are, more than anything else, Americans.

Recycling--the Literary Version

Sandra Parshall

I was happy to hear Ian McEwan on the radio last week, describing his habit of saving deleted passages from his novels because they might contain “nuggets” he can use in later work. I don’t have much in common with this renowned writer, but we’re alike in one way: we both practice a literary version of recycling.

I don’t reuse only the nuggets, though. I recycle characters, subplots, whole scenes. Like one of my cloth tote bags, many elements of my books used to be something else.

When Disturbing the Dead was published, I wrote about the transformation of a character who first appeared in a manuscript titled Outside Agitators, a story about young antipoverty workers and the Appalachian people they tried to help during the War on Poverty. I worked on that novel for years and never turned it into a coherent story with a proper ending. But I’ve been carving away chunks ever since and using them in other books.

One of those chunks was a teenage mountain girl with red hair and freckles and the unlikely name of Lana Turner. She longed to leave the poverty-stricken hollow where she grew up and move on to a better life. When I wrote Disturbing the Dead, I kept Lana’s dreams but made her a little older and gave her a Melungeon – mixed race – heritage, which meant changing her coloring to olive skin, black hair, and bright blue eyes. My agent told me I would also have to change her name, because some editors disliked characters with famous people’s names. Lana became Holly Turner.

I wasn’t finished cannibalizing my old unfinished manuscript. In the original, I wrote about antipoverty workers as young idealists, well-intentioned but naive about their power to effect change in a region where gigantic energy corporations control the economy and politics. When I began working on Broken Places (released in February), I asked myself what some of these people would be like decades later, if they had stayed on after their government service ended and tried to continue their activism on behalf of the poor. Maybe they would have had some small successes over the years. Most likely, they would have experienced far more failures and been forced to swallow a bitter dose of disillusionment.

I plucked Cameron and Meredith Taylor from the pages of Outside Agitators, fast-forwarded to the present, and made these two disappointed idealists my murder victims. Meredith, I learned for the first time, had a secret ambition to be a writer, and her final – unfinished – manuscript was titled (ta da!) Outside Agitators. In its pages, Captain Tom Bridger of the Mason County (VA) Sheriff’s Department discovers clues to the motive behind the murders.

Mrs. Lily Barker, the self-educated woman from Disturbing the Dead who believes she has “the sight” (that’s what Appalachian natives call the ability to see beyond the tangible world), wasn’t lifted from any earlier work of mine, but she was inspired by a minor character in Outside Agitators who was too colorful to discard. Mrs. Barker proved popular with readers, and a woman who attended one of my library events made me promise to bring her back, so she returns in Broken Places and also shows up in the book I’m currently writing.

Mason County, my invention, is similar to the mountain community in the original Outside Agitators, but it’s in southwestern Virginia rather than West Virginia, and even the coal companies have largely deserted it by now. In my work in progress, though, Tom will pay a visit to a mountaintop mining operation. Other writers may favor idyllic small communities, but I’d rather write about places where sudden gashes of ugliness mar the natural beauty and decades of lies and rivalries and betrayals simmer just under the surface, ready to erupt and bleed all over the present.

All those years I poured into Outside Agitators, with no end in sight and little hope of ever seeing it published, have paid off richly, and I suspect I’ll use still more chunks of it before I’ve exhausted its possibilities.

When I delete a passage from a work in progress, I’m careful to stash it in a file rather than throwing it out. There must be some reason I wrote it in the first place, and if it doesn’t seem to fit now, it might be just what I need to fill a hole in a future story.