She Was ‘Unmarriageable’—Her Father Gave Her to the Strongest Slave, Virginia 1856

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A Love That Defied All Odds: The Story of Elellanena Whitmore and Josiah Freeman

In the year 1856, in the heart of Virginia, my life took a turn that would forever change the course of my existence. My name is Elellanena Whitmore, and I was deemed unmarriageable by society. At just 22 years old, I had faced 12 rejections in four years, each one more brutal than the last. My legs had been useless since I was eight, the result of a riding accident that left me dependent on a wheelchair. In a society that valued women for their ability to stand beside their husbands and bear children, my disability marked me as damaged goods, a burden.

My father, Colonel Richard Whitmore, had tried to arrange marriages for me, believing that a husband would protect me from the harsh realities of a world that saw me as worthless. But each suitor, upon seeing my wheelchair, turned away, leaving my father increasingly desperate. He understood that I needed protection, but the men of Virginia’s planter class could only see my condition, not the woman inside.

Then came a decision that would change everything. In March of 1856, my father approached me with a radical solution: he intended to give me to Josiah, an enslaved man known as “the brute.” My heart sank. How could he consider such a thing? Josiah was a blacksmith, strong and towering, but he was also a man society deemed property. This arrangement felt like a betrayal of my humanity, yet my father insisted it was the only way to ensure my safety.

“Elellanena,” he said, his voice heavy with concern, “no white man will marry you. But Josiah is strong, capable, and loyal. He will protect you.” I was horrified. “You cannot be serious! Treating me like property?” But my father was resolute. He had watched me suffer for too long, and this, he believed, was the only way to secure my future.

After much deliberation, I agreed to meet Josiah. The moment he entered the room, I was struck by his size—over seven feet tall, with hands that could bend iron. He looked at me with a mix of apprehension and respect, his voice soft as he acknowledged my presence. “Miss,” he said, barely meeting my gaze. I felt a strange mix of fear and curiosity. Could I truly forge a life with this man, bound by circumstances beyond our control?

As we talked, I discovered that Josiah was not just a brute; he was intelligent and thoughtful. He had taught himself to read, sneaking books in secret, and shared his insights on Shakespeare with a passion that captivated me. Our conversations opened a door to a world I had long thought closed to me. For the first time in years, I felt seen—not as a crippled girl, but as a woman with thoughts, dreams, and desires.

In April of 1856, my father held a small ceremony to formalize our arrangement. It was not a wedding in the traditional sense, but an acknowledgment of Josiah’s role as my protector. As the days turned into weeks, we navigated this unconventional life together. Josiah helped me with daily tasks, treating me with respect and dignity. I found comfort in his presence, and slowly, the walls I had built around my heart began to crumble.

The more time we spent together, the deeper our bond grew. We shared our hopes and fears, our laughter and tears. I learned to forge metal alongside him, discovering strength I never knew I had. With every swing of the hammer, I felt empowered, reclaiming a sense of agency in my life. Josiah became not just my protector, but my partner, my confidant, and eventually, the love of my life.

By October, I realized I was falling in love with him. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. A white woman and an enslaved man in Virginia—society would never accept us. But in the quiet moments we shared, I felt a connection that transcended the barriers imposed by the world around us. I could no longer deny my feelings.

One evening, as Josiah read poetry aloud, I gathered the courage to confess, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” His eyes widened, and for a moment, I feared I had ruined everything. But then he smiled, a look of relief washing over his face. “I’ve loved you since the first real conversation we had,” he admitted. In that moment, we sealed our love with a kiss, two souls intertwined against the odds.

But our happiness was short-lived. My father discovered our secret one fateful evening. He stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and fury. “Elellanena, is this true? Are you in love with this slave?” I could have lied, but I chose honesty. “Yes, I love him, and he loves me.”

The confrontation that followed was intense. My father was torn between his protective instincts and the societal norms that dictated our lives. He threatened to sell Josiah, to separate us forever. But I stood my ground, refusing to let fear dictate my future. “Being without Josiah will destroy me,” I pleaded. “For the first time, I’m happy. I’m loved.”

In a moment of vulnerability, my father finally relented. He recognized the bond we had formed and the happiness it brought me. After two months of deliberation, he made a decision that would change our lives forever. He would free Josiah and help us escape to the North, where we could build a life together.

On March 15th, 1857, we left Virginia behind. In Philadelphia, we found a new beginning. Josiah opened a blacksmith shop, and I managed the business side, using the education my father had provided. We created a life filled with love, laughter, and the promise of freedom.

As the years passed, we welcomed five beautiful children into the world. Each child carried the legacy of our love, a testament to the strength of our bond. Josiah designed an orthopedic device that allowed me to walk for the first time since my accident. I felt whole again, empowered by the love that had defied all odds.

Our story, once deemed impossible, became a testament to the power of love and resilience. We lived together for 38 years, facing the challenges of a world that sought to divide us. When I passed away in 1895, Josiah followed me the next day, unable to imagine life without me.

Together, we were buried in Eden Cemetery, our shared headstone reading, “Elellanena and Josiah Freeman, married 1857, died 1895. Love that defied impossibility.” Our children went on to lead successful lives, proving that love knows no boundaries.

Our story challenges societal norms and assumptions about race, disability, and worthiness. It is a reminder that true love can flourish in the most unexpected circumstances, and that the bonds we form can transcend even the deepest divides. If you believe in the power of love to conquer all, join us in sharing this story and keeping the legacy of Elellanena and Josiah Freeman alive.