Jonai Keys - Trip Into History: Uncle Nearest Distillery Retreat

     Riding up to Uncle Nearest Distillery felt like entering a new world. We transitioned from a landscape filled with trees and nature to one dominated by machinery. You would even expect it to feel modern and industrial, but instead, it had a different touch. This was a place filled with history and honor--a story told simply by looking at it. And, that's the amazement of it all. Love & Whiskey by Fawn Weaver, a book we had to dive into during the summer, is a story on the page--one of authenticity, resilience, and legacy. However, actually being in the space felt like the story was unfolding right in front of my eyes.

    When I woke up on the morning of the retreat, I was in Atlanta--a major center of Black excellence and progress. But as we rode from Atlanta to the deep South of Tennessee, I noticed not only a change in scenery but also a shift in atmosphere. As Atlanta is modern, Tennessee isn't there yet, and being in Tennessee allowed me to witness the "start" of it all. From being enslaved Africans, like Nearest Green, our ancestors built themselves up to a place of leadership and entrepreneurship. You can see this transformation at the Uncle Nearest Distillery---from Nearest Green teaching a young white man how to make Tennessee whiskey, to being honored with a distillery in his name that uplifts his legacy. Which reminds me of an idea in Danielle Allen's Our Declaration, that equality is continuous and evolving. At first, equality for Nearest Green meant mastering the craft of whiskey; today, it means having an entire distillery dedicated to his story. This reflects that the past is not just something to remember--it's a source of instructional vision, just as explored in Freedom Dreams by Robin D.G. Kelley.

    As discussed in my Honors English class, the text Loving Blackness as Political Resistance by Bell Hooks presents the idea that loving Blackness is not sentimental; rather, it is a political action--a form of resistance against dominant structures that allow white supremacy to cloud the fullness of Black identity. In class, we explored the harmful role of liquor, particularly through liquor stores, in Black communities through the play A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry and the film Liquor Store Dreams by So Yun Um. However, I believe the Nearest Green Distillery stands apart from that role. I mean, yes, one could argue that selling liquor carries the potential for harm, especially for those who struggle with overuse. But when Fawn Weaver founded the Nearest Green Distillery, it wasn't just about making whiskey--it was an act of honor and legacy. It was about taking back a history that had been overlooked and exploited. To this day, many people still do not know that Jack Daniel learned how to make Tennessee whiskey from an enslaved man. The Nearest Green Distillery is helping to change that. It's a truth-seeking venture that, in its fullness, allows people to engage with history in an honest and transformative way.

    Stepping out of the classroom and onto the grounds of the Nearest Green Distillery allowed me to fully understand the power of the five senses in learning--how they deepen engagement and shift perception. No matter the role--whether you're an honors student, professor, doctor, lawyer, or simply a human being--the importance of lived experience is undeniable. You can read all you want, and even listen to someone's story, but if you never step into that story yourself, you may never fully grasp its depth or meaning. As I walked the mile or more around the distillery, inhaled the sharp scent of aging whiskey, and stood in the dimly lit Speakeasy, I began to feel the physical and emotional weight of the legacy being preserved. It helped me understand not just the story of Nearest Green, but the effort and commitment it takes to keep that story alive--to spread it, honor it, and protect it from being forgotten. Frank X Walker speaks to this in Turn Me Loose; he portrays the urgent need to reclaim identity and narrative. Just like Walker's voice, the Nearest Green Distillery gives presence to a man whose story was almost lost. And, being able to be there and experience his story made me feel that reclaiming history isn't just about facts; instead, it's about embodiment and honoring the humanity behind the names.

    Coming from the West Coast--being a "Cali" girl--traveling through the South has truly changed my perspective on the region and its roots. At face value, the South is often seen as racist and overly traditional. But attending this retreat and reading Love & Whiskey allowed me to form my own understanding of a place I had previously judged based on stereotypes. Ultimately, learning that Nearest Green, an enslaved person, was a master whiskey maker who helped a white man--not through force, but through friendship-- and it completely shifted my perspective. And now, seeing him finally receive the honor he deserves, through a distillery and a brand in his name, shows that the history of the South is important--not just for its painful parts, but for stories like this: stories of legacy, growth, and honor.

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- Jonai Keys, C'2029