Biographies of Black & Indigenous People living in Colonial and Revolutionary Era Roxbury
Source: Abdalian, Leon H. "First Church in Roxbury." Photograph. May 1920. Digital Commonwealth, https://ark.digitalcommonwealth.org/ark:/50959/8s45qx94f (accessed March 10, 2025).
"At least fifty-eight human beings—Black and Indigenous men, women, and children—were enslaved by First Church’s white parishioners. That number, of course, is a significant undercount: the records do not tell us about everyone. A few like Maria, burned to death for setting aflame her enslaver’s house, have stories we can tell in some detail. But little is known of most. All faced the grueling horrors of chattel slavery. We might begin with their names."
- Aabid Allibhai, 2023
Below are some of their stories...
John Wampus – The Indigenous Seafarer and Diplomat
John Wampus was a man who lived between two worlds. Born into an Indigenous community, he was sent to study at Eliot’s Grammar School in Roxbury, learning English and the ways of colonial settlers. But rather than fully assimilating, John chose a life of adventure—becoming a sailor, land trader, and a skilled negotiator. He used his knowledge of both Indigenous and colonial systems to challenge colonial authorities on land sales, advocating for his people’s rights. Imagine stepping onto a ship with John Wampus, the salty wind whipping against your face. What stories did he carry across the ocean? Did he share Indigenous traditions and myths with the sailors he met in distant lands? Did he ever feel torn between the world he was born into and the one he navigated as a mariner? His story reminds us that identity is complex—sometimes, people must learn the language of power to fight back against it. John Wampus was not just a sailor or a trader; he was a bridge between cultures, carrying with him the wisdom of his ancestors while navigating an uncertain future.
Thomas Bedunah – A Father with West African Roots
Thomas Bedunah’s name carries echoes of a place across the ocean. The surname ‘Bedunah’ suggests a link to Akan naming customs from present-day Ghana, a trace of his West African identity that survived the brutal passage to colonial New England. Unlike many enslaved people who were stripped of their names, Thomas carried his with him—perhaps as a quiet act of defiance, a reminder of who he was before bondage. Did Thomas tell his children Akan proverbs at night, passing down wisdom from a homeland they had never seen? Did he hold onto traditions in the way he cooked, the way he walked, the way he dreamed? Even though he was forced into a new world, he did not fully belong to it. His name alone was a thread connecting him to the past, proof that despite the violence of slavery, identity could persist. Today, names still hold power. Have you ever thought about what your name means—where it comes from, who spoke it before you? Thomas Bedunah’s story is a reminder that even when history tries to erase us, our names, stories, and traditions can keep us connected across time.
Maria – The Rebel Who Set Fires
Maria’s story is one of fire—both the kind that burns buildings and the kind that burns inside the soul of someone who refuses to be broken. An enslaved woman in 1681, Maria set fire to her enslaver’s house in an act of defiance. She was executed for it, but her story lives on as a testament to resistance. Imagine being in Maria’s shoes. Enslaved, controlled, denied freedom—yet she refused to accept her fate. Setting that fire was not just destruction; it was a way to reclaim power in a world where she had none. We don’t know what she was thinking in that moment, but we can imagine: Was she angry? Afraid? Hopeful that, even for a brief moment, she could change her own destiny? Maria’s story makes us question what it means to resist. When people are pushed to their limits, when they have nothing left to lose, they find ways to fight back. Have you ever felt so frustrated that you wanted to break free from something—rules, expectations, limits set by others? Maria’s f ire is more than history. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest times, there are those who refuse to accept oppression.
Joachim (Cuffee) – The Child Stolen by Pirates
At just 14 years old, Joachim—later known as Cuffee—was stolen from his homeland by pirates and sold at auction in Boston in 1705. Imagine the fear and confusion of being taken from everything familiar, thrust into an unfamiliar world where his name, language, and identity were stripped away. But who was Joachim before captivity? Did he know how to navigate by the stars? Did he whisper secret messages to the waves, hoping they would reach his family across the ocean? Though he was renamed and enslaved, his past still lived within him. Perhaps he held onto fragments of stories, songs, or traditions from his homeland, quiet acts of defiance in a world that sought to erase him. Joachim’s story reminds us that history is full of stolen futures. Yet even in forced displacement, people find ways to hold onto who they are. When you look up at the stars, consider how many people before you have looked at them for guidance, for hope, for connection—just as Joachim may have done.
Ishmael and Venus – The Couple Who Defied Separation
Ishmael and Venus were enslaved, but their love endured beyond the constraints of captivity. In 1764, their son Richard was baptized, marking a moment of family recognition in a society that refused to see enslaved people as fully human. What did their love look like? Did they steal moments together in secret meeting places, whispering dreams of freedom and a life beyond the chains of slavery? Did they carve their initials into a tree, a quiet testament to their bond? In a world designed to separate them, they found ways to remain whole. Even today, love persists in the face of adversity. Ishmael and Venus’s story is a reminder that love—especially in the most difficult circumstances—is a form of resistance. Flora – Between Enslavers In 1736, Flora was purchased for £105, but her enslaver quickly returned her. Why? The record doesn’t say. But what if she resisted? What if she deliberately failed at tasks, refusing to conform to her captor’s expectations? Perhaps Flora was a strategist, planning every move like a chess game, determined to survive on her own terms. The world tried to define her worth by a price tag, but maybe she saw herself differently. Maybe she held onto her own sense of self, knowing that she was more than someone’s property. Flora’s story invites us to question assumptions about history. What if the people labeled as "difficult" or "unmanageable" were actually resisting in ways we can’t fully see? She reminds us that even when the odds seem impossible, there is power in refusing to be controlled.
Ezbon – The Enslaved Man who Learned to Read
Ezbon was an Indigenous man enslaved during the Pequot War. He lived for a decade among the English, learning their language, reading their books, and worshiping in their churches. He died on August 6, 1646, leaving behind little record of his life—but enough to show that literacy was a tool he wielded in a world stacked against him. How did Ezbon learn to read? Was it a skill forced upon him, or did he seek it out as a means of survival? Did he find ways to use reading and writing to help others in his community? In a time when literacy was often a privilege denied to enslaved people, Ezbon’s story reminds us of the power of knowledge. Reading and writing can be tools of both assimilation and resistance, depending on how they are used. His life challenges us to think about how education has been both a weapon of oppression and a means of empowerment throughout history.
Sylvanus Warro – The Man Who Fought for Love
Sylvanus Warro was enslaved by Daniel Gookin, along with his parents and brother. He fought for his freedom multiple times, appearing in court throughout his lifetime, resisting the forces that sought to keep him in bondage. For eight years, he was hired out to a church member with the promise of eventual freedom. But in 1672, after having a child with Elizabeth Parker, a white woman, the courts re-enslaved him, tearing him from his new family. His son, named after him, remained with his mother and received support from his white grandfather to avoid being sold into slavery. Despite the laws and punishments designed to keep people like him in their place, Sylvanus Warro refused to be ashamed of his love or his family. His story is one of defiance, sacrifice, and the pursuit of a freedom that went beyond just escaping slavery—it was about the right to live fully, to love openly, and to build a future.
Anthony – The Self-Emancipator
Anthony stood before town officials and declared that he had purchased his own freedom from his enslaver, John Gore. Yet despite his efforts, he was warned to return, his freedom still seen as conditional, always at risk of being revoked. What kind of courage did it take to claim freedom in a world that refused to recognize it? Did Anthony believe in the system enough to think it would honor his self-purchase, or did he know he was taking a gamble? His story highlights the precarious nature of self-emancipation—freedom was not always guaranteed, even when it was legally earned. But it also shows the resilience of Black individuals who asserted their rights long before abolition was even a possibility.
Cuffe – The Courageous Freedom-Seeker
Cuffe made a decision that many enslaved people dreamed of—he ran. Sold from one enslaver to another, he refused to accept his fate and escaped in December 1769. Did he have a plan? Did he know where he was going, or did he simply trust that anywhere was better than where he had been? The act of running was a risk—if caught, he faced severe punishment, possibly death. But for Cuffe, the promise of freedom outweighed the fear of capture. His story is a reminder that even in the darkest times, people have chosen to resist. Running away was not just an escape—it was a declaration of self-ownership, a refusal to be defined by someone else's claim.
Sharpe – A Young Man’s Planned Escape
Sharpe’s name appears in a runaway ad from August 29. The description is detailed—his clothing, his age, even the texture of his hair. It’s as if his enslaver wanted to paint a full picture of the person who had slipped from his grasp. Sharpe was about 25 years old, described as "lusty" and strong. His escape was not impulsive—he packed belongings, dressed for the journey, and vanished into the New England landscape. What were his dreams? Where was he heading? Did he have allies waiting, or did he rely solely on his own instincts? His story forces us to look at history differently. Enslaved people were not passive—they strategized, planned, and risked everything for freedom. Sharpe’s escape reminds us that resistance takes many forms, and sometimes, it means walking away and never looking back.
Keturah – A Determined Wife and Mother
Keturah was enslaved, but she refused to let her captors define her family. She and her two daughters, Phebe and Susannah, were owned by Thomas Seaver, while her husband was enslaved by another man. When she sought permission to be married properly, her husband’s enslaver refused. But Keturah fought back—she took her case to the church, persuading her enslaver to speak on her behalf and proving her "godly behavior" to those in power. She even ensured that she and her daughters were baptized, securing a place for them within the church community. Keturah’s story is one of quiet but fierce determination. She carved out a life for her family within the limited spaces allowed to her, proving that love, faith, and resilience could exist even under oppression.
1819 Map of Boston and its vicinity from actual by John G. Hales Leventhal Map Center, Boston Public Library, https://www.leventhalmap.org
Over 30 individuals and families have been identified as being tied to First Church in Roxbury or its congregants from 1775-1821. While some participated in the church as faithful members, others experienced ongoing bondage despite the gradual abolition of slavery in the New England state in 1783, but all experiences continued inequality and the fight to carve out rights and freedoms in the developing town of Roxbury. While the number and names below remain a larger undercount for the existing Black and natives families navigating the revolutionary landscape, those who have been found in the crevices of the historical annals allow us to restore their dynamic histories and offer glimpses into the complex realities experienced by people of color in Roxbury, Massachusetts in the first half of the 19th century.
Reflect on some of their stories featured below...
