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From "black rice" to "brown": rethinking the history of risiculture in the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Atlantic.

01 Feb 2010-The American Historical Review (Am Hist Rev)-Vol. 115, Iss: 1, pp 151-163
About: This article is published in The American Historical Review.The article was published on 2010-02-01. It has received 20 citations till now. The article focuses on the topics: Historiography.
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TL;DR: A publicacao em 2001 do livro "Black rice: The African origins of rice cultivation in the Americas" desencadeou an animado debate entre academicos dos EUA.
Abstract: Resumen A publicacao em 2001 do livro “Black rice: The African origins of rice cultivation in the Americas” desencadeou um animado debate entre academicos dos EUA. A sua tese e de que os escravos africanos contribuiram para a historia agraria do Novo Mundo muito mais do que com o mero trabalho. Segundo “Black rice”, foram os cultivadores de arroz oriundos da Africa ocidental que iniciaram a cultura do arroz nas Americas, onde aplicaram a sua experiencia com a especie africana de arroz na producao de um de seus alimentos basicos preferidos. Este texto resume o debate academico que resultou da publicacao de “Black rice” e avalia as suas influencias teoricas e metodologicas evidenciadas em estudos subsequentes do conhecimento e protagonismo africanos na transferencia e na transformacao de plantas, paisagens, agricultura e gastronomia nas Americas. O artigo culmina com uma atualizacao da tese do “Black rice” a partir dos resultados de pesquisas acumulados nas ultimas duas decadas.

1 citations

Book ChapterDOI
01 Oct 2019
Journal ArticleDOI
19 Apr 2022-Antipode
TL;DR: Carney's Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in the Americas marked a critical juncture in geographies and histories of (post)colonialism, the Atlantic World, and the African diaspora as discussed by the authors .
Abstract: First published in 2001, Judith Carney’s Black Rice drew on a complex methodology to argue that enslaved Africans, despite the brutal oppression of bondage, made fundamental intellectual and cultural contributions to agricultural landscapes and economies in the Americas. This thesis sparked a spirited debate in the Anglophone academy, especially among historians, some of whom took issue with the book’s inclusive geographical methodology. That discussion provides a point of departure to show how plural geographical methods work to amplify the archive, historical and otherwise, and enhance our knowledge with more complex and inclusive narratives. After summarising the debate touched off by Black Rice, we update its thesis with inter- and multi-disciplinary research findings over the past two decades. We then survey theoretical and methodological developments in subsequent geographies of the Black Atlantic, before exploring new pathways and connections made possible when we amplify the archive beyond colonial and other written texts. El libro Black Rice, escrito por Judith Carney y publicado por primera vez en 2001, se basó en una metodología compleja para argumentar que los africanos esclavizados, a pesar de la brutal opresión de la esclavitud, hicieron contribuciones intelectuales y culturales fundamentales a los paisajes y economías agrícolas de las Américas. Esta tesis provocó un animado debate en la academia anglófona, especialmente entre los historiadores, algunos de los cuales discreparon de la metodología geográfica inclusiva del libro. Esa discusión proporciona un punto de partida para mostrar cómo los métodos geográficos plurales funcionan para ampliar el archivo, histórico y de otros tipos, y mejorar nuestro conocimiento con narrativas más complejas e inclusivas. Tras resumir el debate suscitado por Black Rice, actualizamos su tesis con hallazgos de las investigaciones inter y multi-disciplinarios de las dos últimas décadas. A continuación, examinamos los desarrollos teóricos y metodológicos en geografías subsecuentes del Black Atlantic, antes de explorar nuevos caminos y conexiones que se hacen posibles cuando ampliamos el archivo más allá de los documentos coloniales y otros textos escritos. The 2001 publication of Judith Carney’s Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in the Americas marked a critical juncture in geographies and histories of (post)colonialism, the Atlantic World, and the African diaspora. Black Rice centres enslaved Africans and their intellect as powerful agents of historical and geographical change. The book’s central thesis—that enslaved Black people applied longstanding expertise to initiate rice cultivation in the Americas—sparked a spirited debate in the Anglophone academy. The controversy was especially polemical among historians, some of whom took issue with the book’s inclusive geographical methodology (Eltis et al. 2007, 2010). How could chattel slaves drive the transformation of New World landscapes and economies given the brutal oppression and constraints of their bondage? This critique notwithstanding, evidence corroborating the “Black Rice thesis” continues to emerge, and Black Rice continues to inspire a groundswell of scholarship on colonialism, agency, and cultural-environmental change in geography and beyond. This article begins by summarising the academic debate that ensued from the publication of Black Rice, and then provides an update of its thesis by surveying related research findings on Black agency in rice cultivation accumulated over the past two decades. Next it explores the book’s theoretical and methodological influences in subsequent studies of African knowledge and agency in transfers and transformations of plants, landscapes, agricultures, and foodways in the (post)colonial Americas and beyond. Finally, the article culminates by discussing new connections and pathways through the geographies of the Black Atlantic. In 2010 the American Historical Review published a special forum entitled “The Question of ‘Black Rice’”.1 1 See American Historical Review volume 115, Issue 1: https://doi.org/10.1086/ahr.115.1.123 The collection emerged from an animated debate among historians following the publication of Carney’s book nine years prior (Carney 2001). Black Rice argues that Africans had been growing a species of rice they domesticated independently at least a millennium prior to the start of the transatlantic slave trade. With their knowledge and skills, and despite the constraints of enslavement, Africans introduced this culture into the plantations and societies of the New World. The more conventional belief that Europeans introduced rice into West Africa and then brought knowledge of its cultivation to the Americas, the book argues, is a primary fallacy designed to conceal the origins of the culture and the role of enslaved Africans and their New World descendants in transferring seeds, technical skills, and cultural practices that enabled rice agriculture in the Americas. At issue was a methodological question, namely what sources and approaches can count as evidence for reconstructing the cultural antecedents of New World developments. The book asks readers to consider how the written historical record could be complemented by a geographical perspective informed by cross-cultural comparisons of rice-growing knowledge and practices during the period of transatlantic slavery. In an earlier article published in the American Historical Review, historians David Eltis, Philip Morgan and David Richardson (hereafter, EMR) dismissed the Black Rice thesis and its geographical methodology (Eltis et al. 2007). With calculations derived from their deservedly renowned historical database of transatlantic slave voyages (https://www.slavevoyages.org/), the authors argued against African antecedents to rice cultivation in the Americas. The database is indisputably a milestone: it records more than 36,000 slave voyages from documents held in archives around the world. But it is by no means comprehensive. Records are especially scant for the formative period of plantation development, when both rice and enslaved Africans were first arriving in the Americas, and thus remain limited in their explanatory power. By applying quantitative data from slave voyages to an inherently qualitative historical inquiry, EMR reimposed the primacy of written records for comprehending and discussing the legacy of peoples whose histories were poorly documented, being recorded for the most part by those who subordinated them (Hall 2010). EMR relied on big data to emphasise that enslaved Africans from Upper Guinea—a primary, but far from the only, rice-growing region of West Africa—never constituted majorities of people enslaved in the South Carolina lowlands, and criticised the book’s suggestion that the expertise of women in African rice systems increased demand for them in Carolina slave markets, arguing that females did not comprise a disproportionate share of the total enslaved people sent there. Aside from their problematic deference to majoritarian logic, their strict reliance on data that is notoriously incomplete and weak for the formative period of plantation slavery evidences little about the emergence of rice as a plantation crop or the transatlantic transfers of knowledge that informed New World risiculture. Basing their argument on numerical aggregations of colonial archives, EMR revealed not only the limits of their methodological approach, but also their epistemological commitments. In this telling, only Europeans and their descendants possessed the tools necessary for initiating an agricultural system. “Without the capital, entrepreneurship, organizational capacity, and drive for profit of European and European-American merchants and planters”, they claim, “rice would never have been an important crop in the Americas” (Eltis et al. 2007:1353). Fundamentally, their critique reduced the Black Rice thesis and stripped it of nuance. By arguing that the colonial rice economy of lowland South Carolina was “a hybrid, synthetic rather than European or African in character” (Eltis et al. 2007:1354), they misrepresent the book’s arguments by suggesting, falsely, that Black Rice credited rice cultivation solely to Africans with no roles or contributions by Europeans and others. The ensuing American Historical Review forum brought the controversy into the open by soliciting commentaries from three distinguished historians, followed by a rejoinder from EMR. The first commentary, by Max Edelson (2010:129), cautioned scholars to avoid deploying “unforgiving statistics against a process of inferred cultural transmission that could, because the documentary record omits African perspectives, leave only the faintest impressions in the archives”. Walter Hawthorne (2010a) called for recognition of both African and European contributions to colonial risiculture, while Gwendolyn Midlo Hall (2010:148) admonished scholars to use historical databases “wisely and judiciously” and remain mindful of their limitations. Otherwise, “[w]hen scholars overstate the questions that a database can answer and criticize others’ work through the use of irrelevant calculations”, such efforts can become an “inflexible” tool “locking in outmoded research and questions and not allowing for new ones” (ibid.). Still, in their response, EMR gave little ground other than to concede that their argument was not intended to undermine altogether any claims for African agency in the context of the African diaspora (Eltis et al. 2010). Two years later, a book chapter by Stanley Alpern (2013), a specialist in African primary sources, revisited the debate and defended the thesis by pointedly refuting many of the claims levied in the historians’ critique. Alpern (2013:35) concluded that “the achievement of white masters and black chattel … was a unique synthesis owing at least as much to the slaves as the planters”. His response stands as a reasoned appraisal of the Black Rice thesis and ongoing debates, clearing the way for subsequent analyses of African crops and knowledge transfers in Atlantic history, and more broadly, the comprehensive and generative analyses of African agency in plantation societies that followed. Thus, one central contribution of Black Rice was its inclusive and judicious assembly of methods and sources, moving far beyond documents housed in colonial archives. To be clear, the book was certainly not the first to employ more-than-textual methods in historical research, an approach long common among geographers and one that continues to gain momentum among historians (Bray et al. 2015; Grego 2021; Hawthorne 2010a). Black Rice was, however, the first to fully embrace methodological plurality to recover the agency of enslaved Africans in the landscapes and economies of colonial risiculture. The book thus drew criticism not only for its conclusions, but for the methods used to reach them. Black Rice broadened the sources of knowledge available to scholars studying the formative period of New World plantation development. By examining the transatlantic cultures and landscapes of rice, including its cultivation, milling, and cooking methods, the book analysed the Atlantic history of an important food crop from the perspective of those who grew it, both in Africa and its diaspora. This comparative approach thus draws attention to West Africa—a region too often ignored in studies of the historical process shaping the environmental transformation of the Americas—where a distinct species of rice, Oryza glaberrima, had been independently domesticated 3,500 years ago.2 2 While the rice species Oryza glaberrima was domesticated and originally cultivated in West Africa, mainly in the Niger river inland delta and mangal estuaries along the Atlantic coast, the Asian species Oryza sativa spread along the East African coast and in the Indian Ocean, including present-day Mozambique and the island of Madagascar. Focusing on transatlantic flows of knowledge and cultural exchange, the book reconstructed the processes by which enslaved West Africans drove the development of rice landscapes and economies in the Americas using the ancestral skills and knowledge of their homelands. Although the higher-yielding Asian rice (O. sativa) promptly replaced the African species in plantation societies, the viability of O. glaberrima demonstrated the suitability of rice as a plantation crop in the colonial Americas. This discovery repudiated a longstanding meta-narrative that uncritically attributed the American beginnings of rice culture solely to the ingenuity of European- and Anglo-American planters using Asian seeds. Despite opposition from some corners, studies of the African contributions to New World risiculture have advanced markedly in the years since the publication of Black Rice, building on its theories and methods and lending support to many of the book’s original findings. In 2006, Dutch ethnobotanist Tinde van Andel discovered African rice, O. glaberrima, being cultivated in a maroon community in Suriname for use as ancestral offerings in the traditional Afro-Surinamese Winti religion. Applying historical linguistics and later rice genomics, her research built on the theories of African agency presented in Black Rice to explore how Suriname’s maroons have maintained ancestral connections by cultivating African varieties of rice introduced centuries earlier via the transatlantic slave trade (Carney 2004; Gewin 2017; van Andel 2010). She and her collaborators sequenced the DNA of glaberrima specimens collected in both West Africa and Suriname and verified them as genetically identical. The data suggest that the variety of African rice collected in Suriname likely originated in West Africa’s Guinea Plateau (van Andel et al. 2016a). Published in Nature Plants, the study became the first to use plant genomics to confirm the introduction of crops into the Americas by enslaved Africans, thereby opening an important new field of enquiry. It also shows how African rice endures in Neotropical America as a commemorative heritage plant, symbolising unbroken ancestral connections within a human history that could not be severed by centuries of slavery and racism. Inspired by her findings with African rice, van Andel went on to examine the African origins of other basic foods produced by Suriname’s maroon communities—from okra to yams, and from bananas to Bambara groundnuts—which remain central to the diaspora’s cultural heritage (van Andel et al. 2014, 2016b). The genomics research conducted by van Andel and her colleagues demonstrates that African rice was indeed introduced to the Americas and associates its cultivation with communities founded by fugitive slaves. Evidence from across the Atlantic World further suggests that similar processes of transatlantic diffusion replicated throughout the Western Hemisphere. In 2011, Carney located a botanical voucher of glaberrima rice in the Natural History Museum in London, originally collected in Matanzas, Cuba, in 1849 (Figure 1). This specimen affirms that African rice was also cultivated in Cuba and that glaberrima had reached the shores of other slave societies. Consequently, Carney’s original map in Black Rice showing the diffusion of African rice to New World slave societies can now be revised. Figure 2 illustrates this revision, mapping the geographies of glaberrima rice verified by botanical collections and archaeological excavations. Edda Fields-Black’s (2008) study of pre-colonial rice cultivation on the mangrove coasts of West Africa and its influence on Carolina’s rice systems combines ethnographic and linguistic data with archaeological discoveries to reconstruct processes of diffusion in the early Atlantic World. Her study tracks invention and innovation in African rice-growing technologies in coastal Guinea more than a millennium prior to the transatlantic slave trade. Fields-Black’s methodological tour de force not only challenges static views of African prehistory but convincingly overcomes the silence of the written register to detail the antecedents of tidewater rice production in coastal Georgia and South Carolina. Similarly, historian Walter Hawthorne (2003) integrated oral histories and archival sources to show how the Balanta in the Upper Guinea Coast region responded to the transatlantic slave trade by shifting to rice farming in inaccessible mangroves, thereby increasing the number of ethnic groups growing rice. This regional concentration of expert African rice growers clarifies why owners of 18th century rice plantations in Amazonian Brazil imported two-thirds of its labour force from that region (Hawthorne 2010a). Recent work on the material culture surrounding the cultivation of rice in the Americas continues to bolster the Black Rice thesis. Historian Caroline Grego (2021) describes a mud-lifting shovel innovated from the kayendo—a specialised farm implement developed in West African mangrove rice fields—that was still in use on plantations in lowland South Carolina in the early 20th century. She blends analyses of historical photographs with field visits, oral histories, archives, and other sources to demonstrate a West African provenance for the shovels as well as other prominent components of Carolina’s rice culture, including various landscape modifications and housing designs. Grego’s research thus fills in more pieces to the complex puzzle of West African influences on the development of rice landscapes and economies in the Americas. A research team led by Miguel Carmo presents the diffusion of African risiculture and its associated knowledge systems as a complex Atlantic process, never limited to the African continent nor to New World diasporic populations (Carmo et al. 2020). Their study extends the geographical signature of African rice culture to early modern Portugal, where enslaved people transformed the estuaries of the Tagus and Sado Rivers by the late 15th century. The team documents local slaveholder preference for rice growers from Upper Guinea, and implicates them in the agroecological and technological conversion of salt marshlands to rice fields, an accomplishment that relied on rice growers expert in desalination techniques. Figure 3, an agricultural map from the late 19th century, shows place names recalling an African presence in areas located near the marshes. The Carmo study assembles scholars with academic training in disparate fields (agriculture, anthropology, cultural studies, and environmental history) whose thorough reading of primary and secondary sources, familiarity with West African mangrove rice farming, and close attention to cartographic representations adds new understanding to African agroecological and technological knowledge flows through the Atlantic World. It advances a novel transdisciplinary approach to rescue an untold history of rice and enslaved Africans in Portugal before the transatlantic slave trade realigned the crop with New World plantation societies (Carmo et al. 2020). Working beyond the colonial period, Eloisa Berman-Arévalo builds on Black Rice to analyse how communities in the Colombian Caribbean circumvented agrarian modernisation in the late 20th century through a collective rice harvest known as tongueo. Led by women, the tongueo “re-appropriates and re-signifies” the modern rice harvest as a joyous space of inter-generational Afrodiasporic cultural memory and knowledge transfer (Berman-Arévalo 2021:4). This research thus demonstrates how centring the creative and cultural agency of enslaved people helps us to comprehend and contextualise Black geographies of rice in the contemporary African diaspora. These recent studies not only reinforce central findings of Black Rice, they leverage methodological openness and diversity to more broadly reaffirm the multiple, complex, and constant ways that Afro-descendants contributed to New World transformations. Two decades after publication, the theories and methods of Black Rice continue to influence histories and geographies of (post)colonialism and the African diaspora by clarifying the processes of exchange and innovation that coalesced in the early Atlantic World. A multi- and cross-disciplinary conceptual framework and comprehensive methodological approach evinced in Black Rice and subsequent scholarship tend to both welcome and challenge critiques derived of any single academic discipline. This scholarly inclusivity resonates within the broad contours of human geography as a field embracing radical syntheses of methods, approaches, and theories—an “interdisciplinary discipline” (Zimmerer 2017; see also McKittrick 2006; Turner 1989; Van Sant et al. 2020; Watkins 2020). It is perhaps within this context where human geography finds a singular niche within the academy, and also helps explain some of the rebuttals from historians and others who would question the “generosity toward methods” common among many geographers (even as this becomes more common in other disciplines) (DeLyser and Sui 2014:304). The theoretical contours of new geographies of the Black Atlantic emerge from the social contexts of struggles for racial and social justice. The socio-political upheavals of the 1960s, including the civil rights and feminist movements, helped to fuel academic interest in the lives of ordinary people, and encouraged a new generation of scholars to provide more inclusive histories of the past (Bledsoe 2021; McClerking and Philpot 2008). Various strands of critical scholarship including social history, (post)colonial studies, subaltern studies, political ecology, Indigenous geographies, and Black geographies have all sought to enlarge the map of knowledge by giving voice to the poor, the disenfranchised, immigrants, racial and religious minorities, women, peasants, and other marginalised communities (Blaut 1993; Bledsoe 2021; Jazeel and Legg 2019; Offen 2004; Said 1979; Trouillot 1995; Wolf 1982; Zinn 1980). Relying on nontraditional evidentiary sources such as court records, wills and testaments, oral histories, diaries, family genealogies, various art forms, historical images, music, maps, remotely sensed imagery, and travellers’ accounts (often in complement to written archives), commitments to writing from the bottom up produced more complex and inclusive narratives and eventually influenced studies of the environment and agrarian transformations (e.g. Hecht 1985). The power dynamics inherent of colonialism, transatlantic slavery, and the African diaspora complicate retrospective analysis, provoking challenges and opportunities. Colonisers created and enforced racialised societies built upon the subjugation and control of Indigenous peoples, Africans, and their descendants. Despite the constraints and oppression of the slave system, Afro-descendants made significant contributions to New World societies—including foodways, arts, religions, communities, landscapes, and economies. Nevertheless, Eurocentric documentation, modernist discourse, and other colonial legacies coalesce to obscure the achievements of enslaved, subaltern, or otherwise marginalised peoples (Blaut 1993; Carney and Rosomoff 2009; Gilroy 1993; Jazeel and Legg 2019; McKittrick 2006, 2021; McKittrick and Woods 2007; Mignolo and Walsh 2018; Trouillot 1995; Watkins 2020, 2021; Woods 1998). Recognition of these contributions has been hobbled by the reticence of many scholars to accept forms of evidence other than “script penned on paper” (Hawthorne 2010b:153). But this hesitancy leaves a lingering issue because the historical silence of a people in the written record does not legitimise their absence. Archival documents are of course crucial records of the past, yet they can tell only part of the story, and from only limited perspectives. As Sluyter (2012:219) advises, “documents preserved in the archive emerged from the very social relations under investigation and cannot stand apart from, be an impartial witness to, or adjudicate the facts of their own emergence”. Since historical records show, at best, a palimpsest of the African presence in the Americas, the challenge faced by scholars of the African diaspora is the development of new archives and methodologies that would allow the exploration of intercultural encounters and the formation of knowledge in the early Atlantic world (Carney and Rosomoff 2009; Knight 2010; Landers 2010; Thornton 1998; Wheat 2016). The intention is not to replace the written archive, but rather to complement it. Subsequent work has therefore continued to amplify and reimagine the African-Atlantic archive in efforts to reconstruct the too-often overlooked roles and contributions of Afro-descendants to historical-geographical changes and their narratives (e.g. Carney and Rosomoff 2009; McKittrick 2006, 2021; Sluyter 2012; Sweet 2014; Watkins 2021). To conduct more inclusive analyses, we require more inclusive methods. Oral histories carried within Afro-descendant communities offer one way forward. In the many extant maroon communities scattered across northeastern South America, rice remains an esteemed food.3 3 Maroon communities, known as quilombos or comunidades quilombolas in Brazil, are (semi)autonomous settlements founded by enslaved or self-liberated peoples and the contemporary communities that descend from them (Bledsoe 2017; Farfán-Santos 2016). Despite the vast distances that separate these communities, from Suriname to Brazil, descendants have passed down similar narratives about how they came to grow rice. Interviews with members of maroon communities (quilombolas) in the Brazilian states of Amapá, Pará, and Maranhão echo what the French botanist André Vaillant observed in French Guiana in 1936 (Carney 2004; Vaillant 1948). While collecting rice from maroon communities near the border with Suriname, Vaillant recorded the widespread belief that Black women introduced rice culture from Africa by hiding the grains in their hair. A quilombola version from Brazil places a slave ship with leftover rice at the narrative’s centre. Here, an enslaved woman conceals the grains in her hair before she disembarks the vessel. The seeds escape detection and through this stealthy and deliberate act, the maroons began to cultivate rice. These oral histories situate the origins of maroon rice culture around slave ships, excess provisions, and the agency of an enslaved African woman (Carney 2004). Such maroon oral histories may embody more than mere folklore. Journals kept by slave ship captains indicate that during the voyage across the Middle Passage enslaved women were at times put to work in meal preparation. Archival records also reveal that captains relied considerably on food grown in Africa to provision their captives for the lengthy Atlantic crossing. They purchased African staples such as rice, sorghum, and millet, in both milled and unmilled forms (Carney and Rosomoff 2009). Any grain purchased in the husk—not yet milled or cleaned—required processing at sea to ready it for human consumption. A close examination of Figure 4 reveals the value of historical imagery in amplifying the archive. An exploded view of an 18th century painting of the Danish slave ship Fredensborg shows African women preparing food on the deck of a slave ship. The highlighted area shows two females lifting wooden pestles to hand-pound or mill grain in a mortar, a task long associated in Africa with women’s work. This activity indicates that the grain was purchased unmilled, with the inedible hulls still attached. In this form the grain is also a seed. Thus, any unhusked grain remaining from a slave voyage served as potential seed stock for growing it elsewhere. It is uncertain whether the Fredensborg’s female captives are hand-milling sorghum, millet, or rice, but it is certain that none of these African crops were present in the Americas prior to the arrival of slave ships and Africans. Few slave ships may have arrived in the Americas with leftover food stores. But those that did presented enslaved people with opportunities to access seeds and propagules of familiar crops and the possibility of re-establishing them in new lands. Maroon oral histories about rice origins—typically dismissed by outsiders as myth—align plausibly with this scenario and belie assumptions about their allegedly fictive underpinnings. In this recent interdisciplinary work on rice and other African food plants we find a sample of the ways scholars are working to broaden the Atlantic archive well beyond the written record. A critical feature of this scholarship is the innovative incorporation of sources, methods, and methodologies endorsed by various academic traditions. This allows scholars the dexterity to consider an ever-expanding repertoire of non-traditional “texts” in addition to those canonised as written history. We now turn to recent geographies of the Black Atlantic to demonstrate the relevance and potentials of plural methodological approaches for uncovering and analysing African agency within transatlantic transfers of botanical species and associated agroecological knowledge systems. The trajectories of African knowledges and cultures in the early modern world were indelibly linked to the institutions and processes of transatlantic trade in African people, and rice was just one of several African food crops that helped to shape New World societies. Investigating the contexts in which the diffusion of African crops occurred requires a broadening of scholarly focus from Atlantic commercial products—export crops produced by slaves—to the foods enslaved people planted for their daily sustenance. A new emphasis on subsistence draws attention to the significanc
Book ChapterDOI
01 Oct 2019