My name is ----; the year is 1845, I am a 25 year old slave my days are long, hot, and brutal, and my nights are short disturbed and uncomfortable. I have little family, born the only child to an enslaved mother and father, Matthew and Taketiza Jackson. When I was 13 years old, my mom died about 3 weeks after my dad was randomly auctioned off from our Mississippi plantation for a measly 13pounds of corn, and a mule. I was left alone, 1 year later my owner began to have his way with me whenever he pleased. It would typically be a late night after his wife had fallen asleep, he would come in awakening me from my sleep and take me from my assigned hhhunt, drag me down by the animals near the creepy abandoned sheds and do as he please. 4 years he did this until I bore a baby boy.
It is now August which begins the cotton picking season, I pick cotton for hours and hours every day, from sun up to sun down; no breaks and little water and food. I would prepare a lunch the night before but I never get the chance to eat it. I pick cotton until my hands are bloody and swollen, but I don't stop because if I do I know I would reap the consequences. A slave like me whose owner is use to them bringing in large amounts of cotton, is punished, if I brings in a less quantity than normal. On a normal day I would weigh in at about 250 pounds.
My owner gave me my sack, I strapped it over my neck, holding the mouth of the sack breast high, while the bottom reaches nearly to the ground. He also gave me a large basket that will hold about two barrels. I use the baskets to put the cotton in when the sack is filled. I then carry the baskets to the field and then I wait to get placed at the beginning of a row to start my daily pickings. An ordinary day's work is two hundred pounds.
The clothing I had to wear were not the best in quality but were good enough condition to wear. There wasn't any stores, so I made everything that I wanted to wear.