A Legacy Forged in Bondage and Freedom: The History of Surnames in the American Black Community

Anton Nieuwenhuizen

April 14, 2025

1. Introduction: The Significance of Surnames in African American History and Identity

Names are fundamental markers of identity, carrying within them the weight of history, culture, lineage, and personal significance.¹ Across societies, naming practices serve not only to distinguish individuals but also to foster affinity, structure social norms, and connect generations.² They epitomize personal experiences, historical events, attitudes toward life, and cultural values.² However, for African Americans, the history of surnames is uniquely fraught, intertwined with the brutal legacy of chattel slavery in the United States. The journey of surnames within the Black community is a profound narrative that moves from the violent erasure of African identities and the imposition of new names by enslavers, through the assertive act of choosing names in freedom, to the influence of cultural and political movements seeking self-determination, and finally, to the ongoing challenges and triumphs of genealogical research aimed at reconnecting with a deliberately obscured past.¹

This report provides an exhaustive historical analysis of surnames within the American Black community. It begins by examining the naming practices imposed upon enslaved Africans, exploring the types of names assigned by enslavers and the simultaneous, though often hidden, persistence of African names and naming traditions. It then investigates the pivotal moment of emancipation, analyzing the diverse ways formerly enslaved people adopted surnames and the complex motivations behind their choices. The report traces the persistence and changes in these surnames across generations, considering the impact of factors like migration and marriage. Furthermore, it delves into the influence of significant cultural, religious, and political movements of the 20th and 21st centuries – including the Nation of Islam, the Black Power movement, and Afrocentrism – on naming practices and conscious name changes. The unique challenges faced by African Americans in genealogical research due to the historical context of slavery and record-keeping are examined, highlighting the critical role surnames play in this pursuit. The report also identifies common surnames within the Black community, exploring their potential origins and distribution. Finally, it broadens the perspective by comparing the historical development of surnames in the American Black community with naming conventions in other parts of the African diaspora, specifically the Caribbean and Brazil.

Ultimately, this exploration reveals that the history of African American surnames is far more than a simple account of linguistic evolution or genealogical data points. It is a testament to the enduring human need for identity and connection, a story of profound loss and systematic oppression, but also one of remarkable resistance, resilience, adaptation, and the ongoing, powerful act of self-naming and self-determination in the face of historical erasure.⁵

2. “Legally Nameless”: Naming Practices During Slavery

The Act of Naming as Power and Dehumanization

The transatlantic slave trade and the institution of chattel slavery in America involved a systematic process of dehumanization, a core component of which was the stripping away of African identities, including personal names.¹ Upon capture and arrival in the Americas, enslaved Africans were often rendered “legally nameless” until purchased by enslavers.² The subsequent assignment of a new name by the enslaver was not a benign act of identification but a profound assertion of ownership and control, reinforcing the status of the enslaved person as property.⁶ This practice was part of a broader strategy to sever ties to African cultures, languages, religions, and kinship structures, thereby aiming to create a more compliant and disconnected labor force.³

Scholars characterize these imposed names as “injurious names,” emphasizing the performative act of domination inherent in the naming process.⁶ As Harlem activist Richard Moore starkly put it, “slaves and dogs are named by their masters, free men name themselves”.⁶ The psychological impact was devastating, disrupting an individual’s sense of self, their connection to ancestral heritage, and the cultural values embedded within their original names.³ In many West African societies, names held deep significance, identifying family, tribe, religion, birth circumstances, and lineage – all of which were targeted for erasure through the imposition of new, often arbitrary or demeaning, monikers.³

Enslaver-Assigned Names: Typology and Intent

The names assigned by enslavers varied, but certain patterns emerged, reflecting a complex mix of motivations ranging from displays of erudition to outright mockery and tools of assimilation.

Classical Names: The frequent use of names drawn from Greco-Roman antiquity (e.g., Venus, Cato, Hercules, Bacchus, Pompey, Caesar, Scipio, Diana, Phoebe, Dido) often served as a conspicuous display of the enslaver’s own education and familiarity with classical literature and history.² However, this practice could simultaneously function as a form of cruel irony or mockery, bestowing names of powerful ancient rulers, gods, and heroes upon individuals stripped of all power and autonomy.⁶ These names marked the enslaved as distinct from the dominant class, who did not typically use such names.⁶ Some classical names carried specific, often denigrating, connotations; “Scipio,” for instance, referenced the Roman general victorious over Carthage in Africa, playing on the African origin of the enslaved, while “Venus” could be used to license and normalize the sexual exploitation of enslaved women by enslavers.⁶
Biblical Names: Names drawn from the Bible (e.g., Ruth, Joseph, Mary, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Moses, Sarah, Hannah, Rachel) became increasingly common, particularly from the early 19th century onwards.¹ This trend coincided with widespread efforts to Christianize enslaved populations, sometimes as a deliberate strategy to supplant African spiritual practices and naming traditions, such as day names.² While imposed by enslavers, these names may have resonated with some enslaved individuals who drew parallels between their own experiences of bondage and deliverance and the narratives of the Hebrew Bible.¹⁴ It is also possible that some biblical names reflected the pre-existing Christian or Muslim faith of some enslaved Africans.⁴
Diminutive/Pet Names: The use of shortened or familiar forms of common European names (e.g., Tom, Jack, Sam, Dick, Ben, Billy, Harry for males; Bet/Betty/Betsy, Nan/Nancy, Peg/Peggy, Sally, Sukey, Jenny, Dolly for females) was widespread, particularly for women.⁴ This practice, largely absent in the naming of contemporary white men, served to infantilize enslaved adults, reinforcing their subordinate status and denying them the dignity of a full name.¹⁴
Whimsical, Satirical, or Condescending Names: Enslavers sometimes assigned names explicitly intended to be whimsical, satirical, or condescending, further asserting their power and dehumanizing the enslaved.² Derogatory terms like “Buck” for men and “Wench” for women became standard trade terms, akin to livestock classifications.⁷ Addressing grown men as “Boy” stripped them of markers of manhood and respect.⁷
Place Names: Geographic names, often of British cities (e.g., Bristol, London, Dublin, Boston, Glasgow) or American locations (e.g., York, Wilmington), were commonly given, particularly to males.² These might reflect the enslaved person’s place of birth, a port associated with their arrival, or simply the enslaver’s whim.
Other Categories: Less frequently, names might denote weather conditions at the time of birth, a distinctive physical feature, or the name of a ship involved in the slave trade.²

The varied typology of names assigned by enslavers thus reveals not arbitrary choices, but deliberate strategies. These choices functioned to display the enslaver’s status, enforce cultural and religious assimilation, maintain psychological control through infantilization and mockery, and ultimately, mark human beings as property within the economic system of slavery.

Table 1: Typology of Enslaver-Assigned Names During Slavery

Name Type	Examples	Potential Enslaver Motivations/Context	Supporting Sources
Classical	Venus, Cato, Hercules, Pompey, Caesar, Scipio, Diana	Display education, mockery, irony, mark distinction, embedded references	²
Biblical	Moses, Mary, Sarah, Joseph, Ruth, Noah, Hannah	Christianization, assimilation, supplant African traditions, perceived virtue	¹
Diminutive/Pet	Tom, Betty/Betsy, Sukey, Jack, Jenny, Sam, Nancy, Sally	Infantilization, familiarity, denote lesser status, control	⁴
Place Names	London, York, Bristol, Boston, Glasgow	Geographic association (birth, port), owner’s whim	⁴
Whimsical/Derogatory	Buck, Wench, Boy (as address)	Demeaning, assertion of power, classification as property/livestock	²
African Day Names	Cudjo, Quash, Cuffee, Juba, Kofi, Quamina	Recognition/appropriation/recording of African custom	²
Other (Descriptive etc.)	Names based on weather, appearance, ships	Simple identification, owner’s observation	²

The Persistence of African Naming Traditions

Despite the systematic attempts at erasure, African naming practices demonstrated remarkable resilience. Throughout the colonial period, a significant minority of enslaved people retained or were recorded with African names.² In North Carolina, estimates suggest this figure could have been as high as one-fifth.² Surviving records document names such as Quash, Cuffee, Mingo, Sambo, Mustapha, Sukey, Binah, Cudjo, Arrah, Dumby, Gola, Gomby, Guinea, Mimba, Minty, Noko, Renty, Rhina, Soanon (from Madagascar), Tenah, Wally, Yamma, Zimba, and Zinga.² In some instances, the survival of an African name might indicate that the enslaved individual possessed skills or status (like literacy, exemplified by Ayuba Suleiman Diallo) that garnered a degree of respect from enslavers, or simply that the enslaver conceded defeat in imposing a new name.⁴

Perhaps more significant than the retention of specific names was the continuation of African naming patterns within enslaved communities. These included:

Day Names: The West African Akan tradition (among others) of naming a child based on the day of the week they were born persisted in the Americas.² Names like Quash (Sunday), Cudjo (Monday), Quaco (Wednesday), Kofi/Cuffee (Friday), and Quamina (Saturday) appear frequently in records, often passed down through generations even when their original calendrical meaning was lost.¹⁴
Birth Order Names: Naming based on the sequence of birth among siblings was another African practice that continued.²
Kinship Naming (Teknonymy): A crucial practice was naming children after parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or other relatives.² In a system that denied legal surnames and constantly threatened family integrity through sale and separation ¹⁰, this practice was a vital means of establishing and maintaining familial identity and connection across generations.¹⁷ Herbert Gutman’s analysis of the 1880 census, reflecting practices rooted in slavery, found that nearly a quarter of Black households included a son named for his father.¹⁹ First names became primary carriers of family history in the absence of stable surnames.¹⁷

The persistence of both specific African names and these underlying naming systems represents a profound act of cultural resistance. It demonstrates the determination of enslaved people to hold onto their heritage and affirm kinship bonds in the face of overwhelming pressure to assimilate and forget.

“Country Names” and Dual Naming

The official names recorded by enslavers often did not represent the full reality of naming within the enslaved community. Many enslaved individuals utilized a system of dual naming, possessing both the name recognized by the enslaver and a private name—often called a “country name” or “basket name”—used exclusively among family and community members.⁷ These private names were frequently African in origin (e.g., Sabe, Anque, Bumbo, Jobah, Quamana, Taynay, Yearie, Abah, Bilah, Comba, Dibb, Juba, Kauchee, Mima, Sena) or nicknames derived from African traditions.⁷

This practice served multiple crucial functions. It acted as a form of “Selfhood Armor,” allowing individuals to maintain an internal identity shielded from the enslaver’s control.⁷ It provided a sense of agency and power, a way to preserve heritage and instill pride in children born into bondage.⁷ Occasionally, runaway slave advertisements would inadvertently reveal this dual system by listing both the enslaver-assigned name and the “country name” by which the individual was more likely to respond (e.g., Moses, “country name Monvigo”; Sampson, “country name Gomo”; John, “will more readily answer to Footabea”; London, “country name Appee”; Tyra, “country name Camba”).¹⁸ This demonstrates that enslavers were sometimes aware of these alternative names but typically disregarded them in official records.

The existence of dual naming highlights a critical limitation of the historical archive. Records created primarily by and for enslavers predominantly reflect the imposed identity, often obscuring the internal, culturally resonant names and identities maintained within the enslaved community itself.¹² Understanding this practice is essential for appreciating the full scope of resistance and identity preservation enacted through naming.

The Debate Over Naming Agency

Scholarly discussion continues regarding the degree of agency enslaved people possessed in the naming process.¹² While enslavers undoubtedly held ultimate power and frequently renamed individuals upon purchase or birth ¹², evidence strongly suggests that enslaved parents played an active role in naming their own children, particularly after the first generation removed from Africa.² As historian John Blassingame and others argue, this parental naming was a critical way to establish a child’s identity within the family and the broader slave community, often employing kinship-based patterns.¹⁷

The extent of enslaver intervention likely varied; some may have routinely assigned names, while others, particularly on larger plantations, may have had less involvement, potentially retaining only veto power.¹⁷ The very existence of this debate underscores the significance of naming as a site of struggle and assertion. Even under extreme duress, enslaved people sought to exercise control over this fundamental aspect of identity, using naming to weave threads of kinship and cultural continuity.

Pre-Emancipation Distinctiveness: The Emergence of African American Naming Patterns

Intriguingly, research analyzing historical records like census data (for free Blacks), death certificates, and slave manifests reveals the emergence of distinct African American first name patterns even before Emancipation.¹⁷ Names such as Alonzo, Israel, Presley, Titus, Booker, and Perlie, while not necessarily African in origin, were found to be disproportionately common among Black individuals compared to whites during the antebellum period.¹

Furthermore, the racial distinctiveness of these names appears to have increased over the course of the 19th century leading up to the Civil War. While roughly 3% of Black Americans held such distinctive names in the antebellum era (a similar percentage to the post-bellum period), the share of white Americans bearing these same names declined significantly during the same timeframe.¹⁷ This suggests that these naming patterns were not merely holdovers but were actively developing as part of a unique, national African American culture forged during slavery itself.¹⁷ The growing divergence from white naming conventions points towards a conscious or unconscious process of cultural differentiation and identity formation occurring within the enslaved population, independent of direct African linguistic input for these particular names. This finding challenges the notion that distinct naming practices only arose much later with the Civil Rights and Black Power movements.

3. “Choosing Our Own Names”: Surname Adoption After Emancipation

The Act of Naming as Liberation

The abolition of slavery following the Civil War marked a watershed moment in the history of African American naming. For the first time, the vast majority of Black people in America had the legal right and opportunity to choose and record their own full names, including surnames.¹ This act of naming, or renaming, was far more than an administrative formality; it was a profound expression of newfound freedom, a reclamation of identity, and a deliberate step away from the dehumanizing practices of slavery.¹ Many individuals shed the diminutive first names often imposed during bondage (like ‘Betty’ or ‘Tom’) and adopted their full given names (like ‘Elizabeth’ or ‘Thomas’), signifying their transition to adulthood and personhood in the eyes of the law and society.⁴ The selection of a surname, a marker of family and lineage previously denied, became a crucial part of defining oneself as a free citizen.²⁶

Challenging the Myth of the Enslaver’s Name

A persistent misconception holds that most formerly enslaved people simply adopted the surname of their last enslaver. While this certainly occurred, historical evidence and scholarly analysis suggest it was not the predominant pattern.⁷ Some estimates place the figure around 20%.²⁸ Studies examining post-manumission naming in various locations, including Barbados, Jamaica, and South Carolina, have found weak or no statistical correlation between the surname chosen by the freed person and the name of their most recent enslaver.²¹ While some correlation was found in North Carolina, it was often linked to enduring family or community attachments formed on a particular plantation, rather than affection for the owner.²¹ The reality of surname adoption was far more complex and diverse, reflecting the agency and varied motivations of the newly free.

A Spectrum of Choices

Freedpeople drew upon a wide array of sources and strategies when selecting surnames, demonstrating creativity, intentionality, and a deep connection to personal and collective identity.

Enslaver’s Surname: Despite not being the majority choice, adopting the enslaver’s name (either the last or a previous one) was a path taken by some.¹ Reasons included practicality (it was the name known to officials, facilitating record-keeping, land acquisition, or accessing benefits like military pensions) ²⁶; familiarity and stability in an uncertain world ¹; maintaining connections with family or community members from the same plantation ³³; or simply because it was assigned by government officials (like Freedmen’s Bureau agents or census takers) during registration processes.²⁴
Prominent Figures/Heroes: Many chose surnames associated with individuals they admired, particularly figures symbolizing freedom, leadership, or the nation itself. Names of US Presidents like Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, and especially Lincoln were popular choices, as were names of abolitionists like Frederick Douglass.¹ Washington, despite his status as an enslaver, became a particularly common choice, perhaps seen as embodying national ideals or dignity.²⁷
Symbolic Names: Abstract concepts signifying their new status were frequently adopted. Surnames like Freeman, Freedman, or Liberty served as explicit declarations of liberation.¹
Occupational Names: Surnames reflecting a person’s trade or skill were common, mirroring a traditional European naming practice. Examples include Smith (blacksmith), Shepherd, Cooper (barrel maker), Baker, Carpenter, Shoemaker, and Taylor.⁴ A formerly enslaved man named Bill, known as “Billy the Smith” on the Wessyngton Plantation, became William Smith after emancipation; another named Bill who tended sheep became Bill Shepherd.³⁶
Place Names: Names derived from cities, towns, counties, or even specific plantations were sometimes chosen.⁴
Patronymic/Family-Based Names: Asserting familial connections was a powerful motivation. Many individuals took the surname of their father, even if that father was a white man or had derived his name from a previous enslaver.¹⁰ Others took their mother’s surname.¹⁰ This often involved consciously choosing the parental name over that of the last owner, as articulated by Smith Jackson: “I took the name of Jackson for the reason that I preferred to go by my father’s name, rather than the name of my last owner”.¹⁰ Dick Lewis Barnett explicitly stated he took his white father’s name, Barnett, because “negroes after freedom, were taking the names of their father like the white folks”.¹⁰ Some also adopted the first name of a father or ancestor as a surname (e.g., Jackson from Jack, Williamson from William).²¹
Color Names: Surnames based on colors, such as Brown, Green, Black, or White, were also adopted.²⁴
Descriptive/Personality Names: Less commonly, names might reflect a perceived personality trait, like Hardy or Rambler.²⁸
Pre-existing Surnames: It is crucial to recognize that many enslaved families already used surnames amongst themselves, even if these names were not legally recognized or consistently recorded by enslavers.¹⁰ These surnames, sometimes passed down through generations and potentially originating from an earlier enslaver or chosen independently, were simply formalized and entered into official records after emancipation.³²

Motivations Behind the Choices

The wide range of surname choices points to an equally diverse set of motivations, reflecting the complex realities faced by African Americans in the immediate aftermath of slavery.

Assertion of Freedom and Identity: At its core, the act of choosing a name was a powerful declaration of selfhood and a rejection of the objectification inherent in slavery.¹ Symbolic names like Freeman made this explicit.¹ Choosing any name, even one previously associated with an enslaver, could be an act of claiming agency over one’s own identity.¹⁰ As Cap Ross stated regarding his choice to use his father’s name (Ross) instead of his enslaver’s (Sherrod), “…I calls myself Cap Ross,” implying a conscious decision tied to his new status as a freedman and citizen.¹⁰
Family Connection: Re-establishing or affirming family ties broken by slavery was paramount. Taking the name of a father, mother, spouse, or ancestor served to honor lineage and reconstruct family units.¹⁰ This desire to connect with kin often superseded any negative association the name might have had with a former enslaver.²¹
Practicality and Stability: In the turbulent Reconstruction era, practical considerations were vital. Using a name already known to the community or officials (often the enslaver’s) could simplify interactions with government agencies (like the Freedmen’s Bureau), facilitate legal transactions, ensure receipt of military pensions, and provide a sense of stability in a society still deeply hostile to Black people.¹ The need to register as citizens often necessitated adopting a surname quickly.²⁶
Admiration and Aspiration: Associating oneself with respected national figures like Washington or Lincoln, or local benefactors, could be seen as a way to claim a share in American ideals, project dignity, and perhaps gain social advantage.¹
Safety and Survival: The post-war South remained dangerous. Changing names, particularly for Black Union veterans, was sometimes a necessary survival tactic to avoid violence and persecution from white supremacist groups like the Ku Klux Klan, who targeted former soldiers.¹ Julia Pearson explained that her husband Abram Sherrod and others changed their names “to save their lives” from the Klan.⁴⁹

The diversity of these choices and motivations underscores that the process of surname adoption was deeply personal and highly contextual. It involved a complex negotiation between the desire to assert a new, free identity, the powerful pull of family connections (both biological and the fictive kinship networks forged under slavery), the pragmatic need to navigate a hostile environment, and aspirations for dignity and belonging. It was far from a uniform process and reveals the multifaceted ways African Americans exercised agency in defining themselves after centuries of bondage.

Fluidity in the Immediate Post-Emancipation Period

It is also important to note that surname adoption was not always an immediate or final decision. In the years following emancipation, some individuals used different surnames in different contexts or changed their names multiple times as they settled into freedom, further complicating later genealogical research.¹⁰ Records from the Freedmen’s Bureau and Civil War pension files often provide valuable, detailed accounts of these name changes and the reasons behind them.¹⁰ This fluidity reflects the ongoing process of self-discovery and adaptation during a period of immense social upheaval.

Table 2: Common Surname Choices and Motivations Post-Emancipation

Surname Choice Category	Examples	Common Motivations	Supporting Sources
Enslaver’s Name	Fitzpatrick, Orr, Stovall, Washington, Lewis	Practicality (records, pensions), familiarity, stability, community ties, official assignment	¹
Prominent Figure	Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, Lincoln, Grant, Douglass	Admiration, aspiration, dignity, association with ideals, patriotism	¹
Symbolic	Freeman, Freedman, Liberty	Assertion of freedom, marking new status	¹
Occupational	Smith, Shepherd, Cooper, Baker, Carpenter	Reflection of skill/trade	⁴
Patronymic/Family	Jackson, Bradley, Barnett, Ross, Murphy, Scott, Terry	Honoring lineage (father/mother/ancestor), establishing family structure, reclaiming prior name	¹⁰
Place Names	Smithfield (-> Smith, Field), York, London	Geographic connection (residence, origin)	⁴
Color Names	Brown, Green, Black, White	Descriptive	²⁴
Descriptive	Hardy, Rambler	Personality trait	²⁸
Pre-existing	Surnames used unofficially during slavery	Formalizing existing family/community identity	¹⁰

4. Surnames Across Generations: Continuity, Change, and Migration

Surname Stability and Fluidity

Following the initial period of adoption after emancipation, surnames generally became more stable markers of family identity within the African American community, passed down through subsequent generations.¹⁰ This establishment of heritable family names was crucial for building lineage awareness and facilitating genealogical connections, mirroring practices in the dominant society.²⁷ The desire to maintain a connection to ancestors, even those who bore names originating from enslavers, often solidified the use of these surnames over time.²¹ The surname became a vital link to a family’s collective past, however complex its origins.

However, the fluidity observed immediately after emancipation did not entirely disappear. Changes could still occur, particularly in early generations, making genealogical tracing challenging.¹⁰ An individual might be recorded under one surname in the 1870 census and a different one in 1880, perhaps reverting to a pre-existing family name after initially being assigned or adopting an enslaver’s name, or changing it for reasons of safety or personal preference.³² These inconsistencies require diligent cross-referencing of records.

Impact of Migration

The Great Migration, the period from roughly 1915 to 1970 during which over six million African Americans moved from the rural South to the urban North and West, represented one of the largest internal migrations in U.S. history.⁵⁴ This mass movement, driven by the desire to escape Jim Crow segregation, violence, and limited economic opportunities in the South, and attracted by industrial jobs and the promise of greater freedom in the North, profoundly reshaped American demographics and culture.⁵⁴

From a genealogical perspective, the Great Migration presents significant challenges. As families relocated, they often left behind the communities and records that documented their earlier history, creating gaps in the paper trail.⁵⁴ Researchers may find ancestors seemingly appearing suddenly in Northern cities or disappearing from Southern records.⁵⁵

However, evidence suggests that the Great Migration did not typically involve widespread changes in surnames among migrants. Instead, surnames appear to have functioned as relatively stable markers that facilitated the migration process itself. Research using surname-race-birthplace combinations as proxies for social networks indicates that the presence of individuals with shared identifiers in potential destination cities strongly predicted migration patterns.⁵⁹ This implies that migrants often moved to places where they already had kin or community connections, identified partly through shared surnames, who could help them settle and find work.⁵⁹ Rather than being shed during the move, surnames served as anchors connecting migrants to supportive networks. Therefore, the primary genealogical impact of the Great Migration concerning surnames lies in the geographic dispersal of families and the resulting difficulties in tracing lineages across regions, rather than in frequent alterations of the names themselves.

Marriage Customs and Surname Transmission

The adoption of surnames after emancipation often coincided with the formalization of marriages, which had been denied legal recognition under slavery.²⁰ Many African American families adopted the prevailing Euro-American patriarchal custom where the wife took the husband’s surname upon marriage.¹⁰ This was sometimes explicitly acknowledged as aligning with “white folks'” practices, signifying integration into dominant social norms and establishing a clear family unit in legal records.¹⁰ Freedmen’s Bureau records, including marriage registers, became crucial documents recording these formalized unions and chosen surnames.²⁵

In contemporary times, while the tradition of women adopting their husband’s surname upon marriage remains the norm across racial groups in the U.S. ⁶⁴, variations exist. Some women retain their birth surname, hyphenate, or create new names.⁶⁵ One specific practice is keeping the birth surname as a middle name. Interestingly, one study analyzing national data found that while 18% of women overall who took their husband’s last name kept their birth surname as a middle name, African American women were significantly less likely than white women to follow this particular pattern.⁶⁴ The reasons for this specific difference are not fully explored in the provided materials. However, research indicates that Black women, like women of other backgrounds, weigh factors such as tradition, establishing family unity, professional identity, and familial reverence when deciding whether to change their names upon marriage.⁶⁶ The decision reflects a complex interplay of personal identity, cultural norms, and family considerations. More focused research is needed to fully understand contemporary surname practices within Black marriages specifically.

Conscious Name Changes

Beyond the immediate post-emancipation period, marriage, or migration, instances of conscious name changes have occurred throughout African American history, although these are less systematically documented outside the context of specific political or religious movements (discussed in the next section). Individuals or families might change surnames later in life to correct historical inaccuracies discovered through research, to distance themselves from names associated with particularly brutal enslavers, or as part of a personal journey of identity reclamation. However, the stability of surnames generally increased after the initial post-emancipation adjustments, becoming anchors of generational identity.

5. Reshaping Identity: Cultural and Political Movements in the 20th and 21st Centuries

The 20th and 21st centuries witnessed significant cultural and political movements within the Black community that profoundly influenced naming practices, reflecting ongoing efforts towards self-definition, cultural reclamation, and liberation from the psychological vestiges of slavery.

The Nation of Islam (NOI)

Emerging in the 1930s and gaining prominence mid-century, the Nation of Islam placed strong emphasis on the symbolic power of names.⁶⁷ A core tenet, articulated by leaders like Elijah Muhammad, was the rejection of surnames carried by African Americans, viewing them as “slave names” – identities imposed by white enslavers that perpetuated a legacy of bondage and erased true African heritage.²³ Shedding these names was presented as a necessary step toward psychological freedom and rediscovering one’s “original” identity.⁶⁸

The most distinctive practice associated with the NOI was the adoption of “X” as a surname replacement.⁴ The “X” explicitly symbolized the unknown – the lost African ancestral name that could not be recovered due to the ruptures of slavery.⁶⁸ This practice, exemplified by Malcolm X (formerly Malcolm Little) ⁸, was a powerful statement against historical erasure. The “X” also held deeper resonance within Black folk traditions, where it was sometimes seen as a symbol of Black identity and future redemption.⁷⁰ To differentiate members with the same first name within a temple, numbers were often appended (e.g., Norman 3X indicated the third Norman to join that specific temple).⁷⁰

While the “X” was the most common practice for new members from the 1940s onward, NOI leaders sometimes bestowed specific Muslim surnames, considered “righteous names,” such as Muhammad (taken by Elijah Muhammad himself), Shabazz (representing the mythical tribe from which Black people were said to descend), or Karim.⁶⁷ The highly public name change of boxing champion Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali in 1964 brought mainstream attention to the NOI’s philosophy of naming as liberation.²³ The NOI’s approach represents a direct ideological assault on the legacy of slave naming, using the act of renaming as a tool for political consciousness, spiritual rebirth, and the assertion of a distinct Black identity separate from the history of American oppression.

The Black Power Movement

The Black Power movement, flourishing in the late 1960s and 1970s, further amplified the focus on Black pride, self-determination, and cultural heritage.¹ This movement catalyzed a significant and rapid shift in African American naming practices, particularly concerning first names.²² Quantitative studies, such as the work by Fryer and Levitt, document a dramatic increase in the adoption of distinctively Black given names during this period, especially in racially isolated, lower-income communities.¹

This shift manifested in several ways:

Adoption of African Names: Parents increasingly chose names with clear African origins (e.g., Kwame, Kofi, Ashanti, Njeri, Kicheko).¹
Adoption of Muslim Names: Names associated with Islam (e.g., Jamal, Aisha, Malik, Kareem, Tariq) gained popularity, often chosen for their cultural resonance rather than strictly religious affiliation.¹
Invented and “African-Sounding” Names: A surge in creativity led to the invention of new names or unique spellings of existing names, often incorporating specific prefixes (La-, De-, Ra-, Ja-) and suffixes (-ique, -isha, -ari, -aun).¹

Organizations central to the Black Power ethos, such as the Republic of New Afrika (RNA) and Maulana Karenga’s Us Organization, explicitly linked name changes (including surnames) to political ideology, viewing it as an act of mental decolonization and nation-building.⁶⁸ Karenga, for example, often bestowed names upon members during initiation rituals.⁶⁸

However, the movement was not monolithic in its views on naming. Some activists, including figures within the Black Panther Party like David Hilliard, questioned the revolutionary significance of adopting African names or clothing, arguing that focus should remain on direct political and economic struggle.⁶⁸ Yet, other Panthers embraced African or symbolic names (e.g., Masai Hewitt, Malik Nkrumah Stagolee Seale, Assata Shakur, Afeni Shakur).⁶⁸

Overall, the Black Power era marked a pivotal cultural moment where naming became a visible expression of collective identity and pride. While surname changes were part of this for some, particularly those aligned with specific organizations, the most widespread and quantifiable impact was the diversification and “Blackening” of first names, signaling a decisive move away from the assimilationist naming patterns that had been more common previously.

Afrocentrism and Cultural Resurgence

The intellectual and cultural movement of Afrocentrism, which gained momentum from the 1970s onward, emphasized the importance of African history, culture, and perspectives.⁷⁸ This movement, along with influential cultural events like the publication and television adaptation of Alex Haley’s Roots (1976), further fueled interest in African heritage and naming traditions.⁴ Roots, which traced Haley’s lineage back to an enslaved African ancestor, Kunta Kinte, had a massive impact, inspiring many African Americans to research their own pasts and consider names reflecting that heritage.⁴ The popularity of the name “Kizzy,” a central character in Roots, surged dramatically after the series aired.⁷⁴

This cultural resurgence broadened the scope of names considered authentically “Black.” It encouraged the use of specific names drawn from various African languages and cultures (e.g., Ashanti, Yoruba names like Babatunde) ⁷⁴, as well as the continued creation of unique, sometimes “African-sounding,” names.⁴ Additionally, names with French origins (e.g., Monique, André, Antoine, names starting with La- or De-), perhaps reflecting the historical presence of Creole culture in Louisiana or the experiences of Black expatriates in France, became deeply integrated into African American naming pools, sometimes to the point where they were perceived by the wider culture as exclusively “Black” names.⁴ These trends expanded the definition of a “Black name” beyond earlier norms, reflecting a dynamic process of cultural reclamation, creativity, and the expression of a complex diasporic identity.

6. Tracing the Past: Surnames, Genealogy, and Historical Challenges

The Genealogical Significance of Surnames

For African Americans seeking to reconstruct family histories disrupted by slavery, surnames—once established after emancipation—serve as crucial, albeit sometimes fragile, links to the past.²⁵ They are often the primary key for unlocking records and connecting generations separated by bondage and time. The very act of tracing these names becomes part of reclaiming narratives that were systematically suppressed.²⁷

The “1870 Brick Wall”

A significant hurdle in African American genealogy is often referred to as the “1870 Brick Wall”.³⁰ The 1870 United States Federal Census holds immense importance because it was the first census conducted after the abolition of slavery (ratified by the 13th Amendment in 1865) and the first to consistently enumerate the vast majority of formerly enslaved individuals by their full names, including surnames.³⁰

Prior to 1870, federal census records offer limited information for ancestors held in bondage. From 1790 to 1840, enslaved people were typically represented only by statistical tick marks under the name of their enslaver.⁸² The 1850 and 1860 censuses included separate “Slave Schedules” (Schedule 2), which listed enslavers by name and then enumerated the enslaved individuals under their ownership only by age, sex, and color, but crucially, not by name (except in rare cases, such as those over 100 years old).³² While free persons of color were listed by name in the main census schedules (Schedule 1) from 1790 onwards, the lack of names for the enslaved majority in pre-1870 censuses creates a major genealogical barrier.³²

Navigating Pre-1870 Records

Successfully tracing lineages beyond the 1870 census almost invariably requires identifying the last enslaver(s) of one’s ancestors.³² Clues to the enslaver’s identity are often sought in the 1870 census itself, by noting the location of the ancestor, the surnames of white neighbors (potential former enslavers), and the surnames used by Black neighbors (who might have shared the same enslaver).³²

Once a potential enslaver is identified, research shifts to records created by or pertaining to that individual and their family. Since enslaved people were legally considered property, documentation of their lives is often embedded within the enslaver’s financial and legal papers.⁴⁶ Key record types include:

Probate Records and Wills: These documents, processed after an enslaver’s death, often contain inventories listing enslaved people by name, sometimes with ages or familial relationships, as part of the deceased’s estate.²⁵
Deeds and Bills of Sale: Records documenting the purchase, sale, or transfer of enslaved individuals can provide names, dates, and locations, tracking their forced movements.³²
Plantation Records and Account Books: Journals, ledgers, and farm books kept by enslavers might list enslaved individuals by name in relation to work assignments, rations distributed (e.g., cornmeal, blankets), medical visits, or punishments.³²
Court Records: Legal cases involving enslavers, such as debt settlements or property disputes, might mention enslaved individuals by name.¹⁸
Church Records: Baptismal, marriage (if performed), and burial records kept by churches attended by enslavers might sometimes include enslaved members, though often without surnames.¹⁸

The Role and Limitations of Freedmen’s Bureau Records (1865-1872)

The records of the Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands (commonly known as the Freedmen’s Bureau) are an indispensable resource for African American genealogy, created during the critical transition period immediately following the Civil War.³⁷ Established by Congress in 1865, the Bureau assisted formerly enslaved individuals and white refugees with necessities like food, shelter, medical care, employment, education, and legal matters.⁶²

For many African Americans, Freedmen’s Bureau documents represent the very first time their ancestors appeared in official records under their own full names.³⁷ The records are diverse and can contain rich details, including:

Names, ages, birthplaces, and residences
Family relationships (spouses, children, parents)
Names of former enslavers and plantations
Names of employers and occupations
Labor contracts
Marriage records (registers often legalized existing unions)
Ration lists
School attendance records
Hospital and medical records
Military service information (claims for pensions or bounty payments)
Complaints and affidavits .³⁷

Despite their immense value, these records have limitations. They were not standardized across states or even local field offices.⁶⁰ Record-keeping quality varied, and documents may contain inaccuracies, misspellings, or incomplete information.⁸⁵ Not all records created by the Bureau have survived or been microfilmed, digitized, or fully indexed.⁵⁰ Furthermore, the surname fluidity common in this era means individuals might appear under different names even within Bureau records, requiring careful analysis.³⁷

Specific Challenges in African American Genealogy

Beyond the 1870 barrier and the complexities of Bureau records, African American genealogical research faces inherent challenges rooted in the nature of slavery:

Record Scarcity and Loss: Enslaved people were largely prohibited from literacy, limiting self-generated records.⁸² Many official records simply did not include them as individuals, and others have been lost or destroyed over time.³⁰
Surname Instability: As extensively discussed, the lack of legal surnames during slavery and the varied choices and changes post-emancipation create significant obstacles.¹⁰
Family Separations: The deliberate breaking of families through sale or inheritance scattered relatives, making it extremely difficult to reconstruct family units across plantations or states.¹⁰
Incomplete Data: Even when ancestors are found in records, information is often minimal—a first name, an estimated age, perhaps a notation of “mulatto” suggesting mixed parentage, but often lacking parental names or precise birth details.⁴⁶
Emotional Toll: The research process inevitably involves confronting the brutal realities of slavery—violence, sexual exploitation, the commodification of human beings, and the profound trauma inflicted upon ancestors.⁵⁸

Modern Resources and Methods

Despite these hurdles, advancements in digitization and methodology offer new avenues for research. Genealogical societies like the Afro-American Historical and Genealogical Society (AAHGS) provide resources and community support.³⁰ Major online databases like Ancestry.com and FamilySearch.org have digitized vast collections, including census records, Freedmen’s Bureau records, and more.³² Large-scale initiatives like the 10 Million Names project aim to centralize data on enslaved individuals.³⁰ Oral histories passed down through families remain invaluable ⁵⁸, and DNA testing provides another tool, albeit one that can also reveal painful or complex lineages resulting from the power dynamics of slavery.⁵⁸

The pursuit of African American genealogy is thus intrinsically linked to the history of surnames and the systemic erasure enacted by slavery. Success requires navigating fragmented and often painful records, employing specialized research strategies focused on enslaver records, and utilizing resources like the Freedmen’s Bureau archives, which serve as critical but imperfect bridges across the chasm created by enslavement. It is a process that demands persistence and confronts the deep scars left on the historical record.

7. Common Surnames in the Black Community: Prevalence, Origins, and Distribution

Identifying Prevalent Surnames

Analysis of U.S. Census data and other demographic sources reveals distinct patterns in surname prevalence within the African American community. Certain surnames appear with significantly higher frequency among Black Americans compared to the general population or other ethnic groups.

The most numerous surnames among African Americans consistently include Williams, Johnson, Smith, Jones, and Brown.¹ While these are also among the most common surnames in the overall U.S. population, their high frequency within the Black community reflects the historical context of naming post-emancipation. Based on 2010 Census analysis and related data:

Williams is often cited as the single most numerous surname among Black Americans.⁴² Approximately 46-48% of individuals named Williams in the US were Black.⁴³
Johnson is the second most numerous, with around 35% of Johnsons being Black.⁴³
Smith, the most common surname overall in the US, ranks third among Black Americans, with about 23% of Smiths being Black.⁴³
Jones ranks fourth, with approximately 38% of those named Jones being Black.⁴³
Brown ranks fifth, with about 36% of Browns being Black.⁴²

Beyond these top five, other surnames show a particularly high proportion of Black individuals, making them distinctively African American names:

Washington is perhaps the most notable, with data suggesting around 90% of people with this surname in the US are Black.²⁷
Jefferson is also highly distinctive, with approximately 75% of Jeffersons being Black.⁴⁰
Jackson is another very common and significantly Black surname, with around 53% of Jacksons identifying as Black.³⁹
Freeman, while less numerous overall, was a symbolically important name chosen after emancipation and remains associated with Black heritage.¹

Exploring Potential Origins and Historical Context

The prevalence of these specific surnames is deeply rooted in the history previously discussed:

Anglo-American Naming Pool: The overwhelming majority of common African American surnames, including the top five (Williams, Johnson, Smith, Jones, Brown) and many others like Davis, Thomas, Harris, Robinson, Walker, Scott, Lewis, etc., are of English, Welsh, or Scottish origin.⁴² This reflects the fact that enslavement occurred primarily within British colonies and the subsequent United States, and that newly freed people largely adopted names from the existing Anglo-American lexicon.²¹ These names often fall into standard European surname categories:
- Patronymic: Derived from a father’s given name (e.g., Johnson – son of John; Williams/Jones – son of William/John; Jackson – son of Jack; Davis – son of David).³⁸
- Occupational: Derived from a trade (e.g., Smith – metalworker; Miller, Taylor, Walker, Baker, Cooper).³⁵
- Descriptive/Nickname: Derived from a physical characteristic or nickname (e.g., Brown, White, Green, Black, Long).³⁸
Post-Emancipation Choices: The high frequency of names like Washington, Jefferson, and Jackson, and their disproportionate representation within the Black community, strongly points to their adoption as symbolic choices after emancipation, honoring revered national figures perceived (rightly or wrongly) as embodying freedom or American ideals.²⁷ The name Freeman falls into the category of names explicitly chosen to signify liberation.²⁸
Enslaver Influence: While not the sole or even primary factor for many, the prevalence of common British surnames among the white landowning and enslaving class undoubtedly contributed to the frequency of these names among African Americans. Whether chosen directly, assigned by officials, adopted for practicality, or inherited through complex family ties formed during slavery, the names available in the immediate environment were predominantly Anglo-American.¹⁰
Limited African Survival: In stark contrast, surnames of direct African origin are exceptionally rare among American Black populations, with only a handful (like Mozingo and Cumbo, traced back to 17th-century Virginia) known to have survived the Middle Passage and endured through slavery.⁴⁸

The common surname landscape among African Americans thus tells a dual story: one of integration into the broader Anglo-American naming framework shaped by historical circumstances, and another of distinct choices reflecting the unique experience of emancipation and the desire to forge a new identity rooted in freedom and national belonging.

Distribution Patterns and Regional Considerations

The Great Migration significantly altered the geographic distribution of African American populations and, consequently, their surnames, spreading names previously concentrated in the South across the North and West.⁵⁴ This dispersal makes regional analysis of surname frequency complex.

Some regional variations in naming origins exist, most notably the influence of French naming practices (both first and surnames) in Louisiana due to its distinct colonial history.⁴

While surname distribution can be used by researchers as a proxy to study historical migration patterns and social networks ⁵⁹, using surnames alone to determine ethnicity, particularly for African Americans, is generally considered unreliable.⁹⁶ The widespread adoption of common English-origin surnames means that many Black families share surnames with white families, obscuring clear ethnic lines based solely on the name itself. The accuracy of surname-based ethnic identification methods depends heavily on the specific population, the level of historical segregation, and the region being studied.⁹⁶

Table 3: Most Prevalent Surnames Among African Americans (c. 2000/2010 Census Data)

Rank (Among Black Americans)	Surname	Approx. Black Population Count	Approx. % of Surname Holders Who Are Black	Likely Origin Type(s)	Supporting Sources
1	Williams	~775,000	~46-48%	Patronymic (Welsh/English)	⁴³
2	Johnson	~669,000	~35%	Patronymic (English/Scottish)	⁴³
3	Smith	~565,000	~23%	Occupational (English)	⁴³
4	Jones	~549,000	~38%	Patronymic (Welsh/English)	⁴³
5	Brown	~512,000	~36%	Descriptive (English/Scottish/Irish)	⁴²
(High Prevalence)	Jackson	~353,000 (in 2000)	~53%	Patronymic (English) / Symbolic Choice	⁴³
(High Distinction)	Washington	~147,000	~90%	Place Name (English) / Symbolic Choice	²⁷
(High Distinction)	Jefferson	(Lower overall count)	~75%	Patronymic (English) / Symbolic Choice	⁴⁰
(Symbolic Choice)	Freeman	(Variable count)	(~28% in one source)	Status/Abstract Concept (English)	¹

Note: Counts and percentages are approximate, based on data primarily from the 2000 and 2010 US Census as reported in the sources. Definitions and collection methods may vary slightly between sources.

8. A Diasporic Lens: Comparative Naming Conventions

Understanding the history of African American surnames benefits from a comparative perspective, examining naming practices in other parts of the African diaspora where enslaved Africans and their descendants faced similar, yet distinct, historical circumstances.⁹⁷ Comparing the US experience with regions like the Anglophone Caribbean and Brazil reveals both common threads of oppression and resistance, and variations shaped by different colonial powers, cultural interactions, and timelines of emancipation.

The Anglophone Caribbean (e.g., Jamaica, Barbados)

British colonies in the Caribbean shared many parallels with the North American mainland regarding the naming of enslaved people.

Imposition and Erasure: Enslaved Africans arriving in the Caribbean were similarly subjected to the stripping of their original names and the imposition of European (primarily English) names by enslavers or sometimes by Creole (island-born) slaves.¹⁰¹ Classical names were also employed, likely with similar motivations as in the US.¹⁴
Persistence of Africanisms: African names, particularly Akan day names (like Cudjo, Cuffee, Quashie), were present and recorded, though some analyses suggest they may have declined in frequency earlier or more rapidly than in some parts of the US, possibly reflecting demographic shifts (fewer African-born individuals over time) and acculturation pressures.¹²
Post-Emancipation Surname Adoption (1834/1838): Following emancipation (which occurred decades earlier than in the US), freedpeople in the Caribbean adopted surnames using a range of strategies remarkably similar to those in the United States.¹⁰¹ Choices included:
- The surname of the last or a former owner (again, the prevalence is debated, with research suggesting it wasn’t always the case).²¹
- The surname of the father (who could be white, free black, or enslaved) or mother.¹⁰¹ Some scholars suggest matronymic naming (taking the mother’s surname) might have been more common than in the US, potentially reflecting West African matrilineal traditions or the high rates of unions not formalized by marriage.¹⁰¹
- The name of a respected local figure or friend.¹⁰¹
- Using one of multiple forenames previously used for differentiation.¹⁰¹
Fluidity and Multiple Names: The use of nicknames and multiple names (“country names” vs. official names) was also attested in the Caribbean context.²¹ Naming practices in the formerly Danish West Indies (now US Virgin Islands) also show parallels, with baptism serving as a key moment for replacing African or “slave names” (including diminutives or assigned names like “Present”) with formal Christian names.¹⁰⁵

The strong similarities between the US and the Anglophone Caribbean highlight the shared logic of British colonialism and the institution of slavery in shaping naming practices. Both regions saw the violent imposition of new identities, the resilient persistence of African cultural elements (especially naming patterns), and a diverse assertion of agency in choosing family names upon emancipation. Minor differences, such as the potential prominence of matronyms in the Caribbean, may reflect specific demographic compositions, local administrative variations, or perhaps stronger retention of certain African kinship structures.

Brazil

Brazil, colonized by Portugal, holds the distinction of having imported the largest number of enslaved Africans and being the last nation in the Americas to abolish slavery, in 1888.¹⁰⁶ This different colonial context and later timeline shaped its naming conventions.

Portuguese and Catholic Influence: Naming practices during slavery involved the imposition of Portuguese names, often saints’ names given upon Catholic baptism.⁹⁸ This religious context differs from the predominantly Protestant environment of the Anglophone colonies.
Cultural Syncretism: Brazil is often noted for the overt persistence and syncretism of African cultural forms, particularly in religion (Candomblé, Umbanda), music (samba), and martial arts (capoeira).⁹⁷ While naming is less explicitly detailed in the provided snippets, this strong cultural continuity might suggest different dynamics in how African identities were maintained or expressed through names compared to the US.
Late Abolition and Record Issues: The late date of abolition (1888) meant that the process of surname adoption occurred under different national circumstances than in the US.¹⁰⁶ Furthermore, the deliberate destruction of many slavery-related documents by Finance Minister Rui Barbosa in 1889 (to prevent compensation claims by former enslavers) created significant gaps in the historical record, complicating research into specific naming choices made by Afro-Brazilians at the time of freedom.¹⁰⁶
Double Surname System: A major structural difference is the traditional Portuguese/Brazilian naming convention, which typically involves using two surnames: the mother’s paternal surname followed by the father’s paternal surname.¹⁰⁷ While the snippets do not specify how this system was applied to the formerly enslaved immediately after 1888, it represents a fundamental divergence from the single-surname system common in the US and Anglophone Caribbean. Modern Brazilians of African descent utilize this double surname system.

While sharing the foundational trauma of imposed names and the subsequent need to establish free identities, the Brazilian experience was shaped by distinct linguistic (Portuguese), religious (Catholic), legal (double surnames), and historical (late abolition, record destruction) factors. The specific patterns of surname adoption by Afro-Brazilians immediately post-abolition require further investigation beyond the scope of the provided materials, but the comparison highlights the diversity of experiences within the African diaspora.

Comparative Synthesis

Across the diaspora, the history of surnames for people of African descent is marked by common experiences: the violent erasure of African names and identities, the imposition of European names as a tool of control, the persistent, often hidden, use of African naming conventions as resistance, and the adoption of surnames after emancipation as an act of liberation and self-definition. However, the specific forms these processes took varied significantly based on the colonizing power (British, French, Portuguese, Spanish, Danish), the dominant religion (Protestantism, Catholicism), the specific demographic history of enslavement in each region, the timing of abolition, and the prevailing legal and cultural naming structures (e.g., single vs. double surnames). Comparing these experiences underscores both the shared legacy of the transatlantic slave trade and the diverse ways African diasporic communities navigated oppression and forged new identities through the powerful act of naming.

9. Conclusion: The Enduring Power and Complexity of Surnames in African American Life

The history of surnames in the American Black community is a poignant and complex narrative, deeply interwoven with the fabric of American history itself. It begins with the brutal reality of enslavement, where the act of naming was weaponized by enslavers to strip away African identities, assert ownership, and enforce dehumanization. Yet, even within this oppressive system, enslaved Africans and their descendants demonstrated profound resilience, maintaining African naming traditions like day names and kinship naming, and utilizing dual names to preserve a sense of selfhood hidden from their captors.

The moment of emancipation unleashed a powerful wave of self-determination, as formerly enslaved individuals embraced the freedom to choose their own names. This process was far from uniform, challenging the myth that most simply took their enslaver’s name. Instead, a diverse spectrum of choices emerged, reflecting motivations that ranged from honoring family and admired figures like Washington and Lincoln, to asserting freedom with names like Freeman, to practical needs for identification and stability, and even ensuring safety in the violent Reconstruction era. These choices highlight the agency exercised by Black Americans in defining themselves as citizens.

Over generations, surnames became anchors of family identity, though challenges persisted due to initial fluidity and the disruptions of migration, particularly the Great Migration. Cultural and political movements in the 20th century, notably the Nation of Islam and the Black Power movement, brought renewed focus to the symbolic power of names. The NOI’s rejection of “slave names” and adoption of “X” or Muslim names, and the Black Power-inspired surge in distinctively Black first names (African, Muslim, or newly created), represented conscious efforts to reclaim heritage and challenge internalized oppression.

This history casts a long shadow on the present. Surnames remain vital tools for African American genealogical research, yet the legacy of slavery—specifically the lack of consistent records prior to 1870 and the deliberate separation of families—creates unique and often painful obstacles. The “1870 Brick Wall” forces researchers to confront the difficult reality of relying on enslaver records, navigating fragmented archives like those of the Freedmen’s Bureau, and grappling with the trauma embedded within the historical narrative. Furthermore, the legacy extends to contemporary issues, as studies indicate ongoing workplace discrimination based on distinctively Black names, demonstrating that the struggle for recognition and equality, intertwined with identity and naming, continues.⁹

In conclusion, surnames in the African American community are far more than mere labels passed down through time. They are living repositories of a collective journey, embodying the profound injustices of slavery, the enduring strength of family bonds, the assertion of freedom and identity against overwhelming odds, and the continuous, dynamic process of cultural creation and self-definition. To study the history of these names is to gain a deeper understanding of the African American experience itself—a story of oppression, resistance, resilience, and the unyielding power inherent in the act of naming oneself.

10. Bibliography

(Note: This bibliography compiles URLs from the provided snippets ² and mentioned databases/organizations. It aims for comprehensiveness based on the input material. A consistent citation style, like Chicago, would typically be applied in a formal academic report, but for this output, the list focuses on capturing the source URLs and key database/organization names mentioned.)

Web Articles, Reports, and Blog Posts: