For as long as she can remember, Tamara Lanier had been steeped in the rich history of her ancestry. Her mother, a retired schoolteacher, instilled in her a deep appreciation for Black history and its essential role in shaping identity. Through generations of oral storytelling, Ms. Lanier learned of her family’s African roots, tracing their lineage back five generations to an enslaved ancestor known as “Papa” Renty Taylor.
Renty Taylor was enslaved in pre-Civil War Columbia, South Carolina. Defying laws that forbade Black literacy, he used a Webster’s Blue Back Speller to teach himself to read, preached the gospel, and later educated members of his community with the Bible.
“He was a proud Black African,” her mother often said. “A literate, defiant man who stood his ground when he believed in something.”
Her mother reinforced their history with a firm admonition: “Always remember you’re African.”
As her mother neared the end of her life, these stories became an urgent plea.
“She kept pressing me: ‘Write this down. Always remember this history.’”
At the time, tracing her genealogy beyond oral history seemed impossible. When Ms. Lanier promised to do it, it was more to comfort her mother than out of any real expectation of success. But after her mother passed away in early 2010, the weight of that promise grew heavy.
“I didn’t have a clue how to begin, but I knew it had to be done,” said Ms. Lanier, who will be giving a lecture based on her new memoir, “From These Roots: My Fight with Harvard to Reclaim My Legacy” at the North Fork Arts Center on Saturday, Feb. 8 at 3 p.m., followed by a conversation with author and award-winning local journalist Liz Welch, who worked with Ms. Lanier on her story.
Ms. Lanier’s journey began in an unexpected place — a Connecticut ice cream shop. Recounting her family’s history to the elderly shopkeeper, she was surprised when he offered to assist with genealogical research. Weeks later, when she returned, he met her with an unforgettable reaction.
“I can still see him now — he threw his hands in the air and said, ‘Where have you been? I found your Papa Renty on the internet!’”
The shopkeeper emailed her a file containing research about a Harvard professor who in 1850 commissioned some of the earliest daguerreotype images of enslaved people. As Ms. Lanier scrolled through the research, absorbing their historical significance, she reached an attachment — and gasped.
“There was Papa Renty. As soon as I saw the image, I knew immediately this was the man I had heard about my entire life … I was laser-focused on his eyes and his facial expression. It was almost like he was talking to me.”
No one in her family was aware of the experiments or the daguerreotypes, she said, so it was a profound shock to see the man’s face.
Her daughters gathered around.
“Mommy, you have his eyes,” one of them observed.
“I see me in him,” Ms. Lanier said. “I see my uncles in him.”
The moment was bittersweet. The image of Renty was part of a so-called scientific experiment conducted by Harvard Professor Louis Agassiz, to justify white supremacy by depicting Black people as inferior.
“I started to get angry, because that is not this man’s legacy. He was an educator. He was a religious leader who taught people with the Bible. He was this amazing community figure. And here you are using him as a symbol of Black inferiority? You got the wrong guy.”
Determined to reclaim her family’s history, Ms. Lanier contacted Harvard’s Peabody Museum, which housed the daguerreotypes. She expected enthusiasm, but said she encountered cold indifference.
“From the very first call, their response was distant. There was no excitement, no curiosity.”
What followed, she said, was years of stonewalling. When she finally visited the museum, the experience was dehumanizing.
“The receptionist at the Peabody was like a corrections officer — militaristic, curt and lacking any empathy. It was a horrible experience.”
Undeterred, Ms. Lanier expanded her research. Working with the Connecticut Historical Society and genealogy groups, she soon found what she said is concrete proof linking her family to Papa Renty. By tracing the descendants of the Taylors — the family that enslaved her ancestors — she discovered a direct connection.
Her breakthrough came when Dr. Edmond Taylor, a 98-year-old descendant of the enslavers, invited her to South Carolina.
The irony was not lost on her.
She told her daughters, “We’re going to Columbia, South Carolina, to spend the weekend with the family who enslaved our family.”
Ms. Lanier brought a probate will from Colonel Thomas Taylor, the father of Benjamin Franklin Taylor, which documents Renty’s forced servitude.
At his home, the arc of history was tangible.
“We were having lunch, and he said, ‘You are eating from the dishes that belonged to Benjamin Franklin Taylor, and you’re sitting in a chair at a table where all the woodwork was hand-carved by the Taylor family carpenter.’
“I knew from my research that my ancestor was identified as the family carpenter. So all these years later, I’m sitting in a chair my ancestor made. It was so emotional.”
Even more astonishing was the way their stories aligned.
“He was talking from the slaveholder’s perspective. My mom was talking from Renty’s perspective. But they were the same stories. Dr. Taylor said the Taylors operated an Underground Railroad and set many of their slaves free to Ohio. My mother told me the same thing — that some of Renty’s descendants stole away on the Underground Railroad. He also talked about a slave who could read and preach the gospel. That’s exactly how my mother described Renty.”
In 2017, Harvard hosted an international conference on the legacy of slavery. Despite allegedly promising to keep her informed about developments regarding the daguerreotypes, the university never reached out. She learned about the event through social media.
When she requested tickets, she was told it was sold out. After pressing, two tickets materialized.
Walking into the auditorium, she was confronted with another surprise: a massive projection of Renty’s image — the centerpiece of the event.
“This was going to be all about Renty, and of course, they didn’t tell me. They didn’t want me to come. At this point, they knew all of my history, all of my genealogy work. And yet, they erased me from the narrative.”
She said that was the moment she knew she had to take legal action.
The following year, she attended an event hosted by Rev. Al Sharpton’s National Action Network, where civil rights attorney Benjamin Crump was speaking. Pushing through the crowd, she snapped a selfie with him and handed him a business card with Renty’s image.
“I told him, ‘I have a case against Harvard. I think it’s a reparations case, and I need an attorney like you.’”
In 2019, Crump filed a lawsuit against Harvard, seeking justice for Ms. Lanier’s ancestors and the return of the images. The case raised critical questions about historical ownership, reparations and the erasure of Black history.
Two months later, 43 descendants of Mr. Agassiz publicly urged the university to turn the images over to Ms. Lanier.
Though a Massachusetts court dismissed her initial claim to ownership of the daguerreotypes, in 2022, the state’s Supreme Court allowed her claim of emotional distress to move forward. That case is ongoing.
Harvard University did not respond to a request for a comment on Ms. Lanier’s new memoir, but school representatives have argued in court filings and public statements that there is no legal precedent for recognizing a descendant’s property rights over historical images. School officials contend that the university has the legal right to retain the daguerreotypes, and that the images are historical artifacts that belong to the institution and should not be considered private property.
For Ms. Lanier, the fight is about equality under the law, on behalf of ancestors who couldn’t claim their property because they were property.
At a time when museums are being compelled to repatriate Native American artifacts and remains and art stolen from Jews during the Holocaust is being recovered through the courts, she said she wants the same consideration for her enslaved ancestors.
“If I were a Jewish woman, I wouldn’t have to file a lawsuit. If I were Native American or affiliated with a tribe, I wouldn’t have to file a lawsuit. There are laws that protect cultural property of aggrieved groups, but there’s nothing, there’s no language to suggest that there should be any protections of these victims.”