A Customer Told Me She Picked Cotton. I Saw My Story, Too.

Phyllis Carey, 75, has owned Phyllis Fabric on Broadway in Gary, Indiana, for more than 45 years. After the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, her ancestors moved away from the South in search of better opportunities.

This account has been condensed and edited for clarity.

At my age, I have lived a long life: I’ve owned my fabric store for over four decades, gotten married, had a few kids, grown a multigenerational family, and still remain one of the few businesses on Broadway despite seeing Midtown rise and fall.

Every day, I wake up, go downstairs, and take note of my orders before opening the store for the day. 

It’s second nature to me at this point; I see customers from all walks of life, and I make sure to give them the best service possible. In return, I’m often given a reflective lesson as well.

One day, as I worked behind the counter, the bell rang, and a woman the same age as me walked in to drop off her garments. A previous Gary public school teacher, she’s very outspoken about Black history and the importance of knowing where you came from.

As I asked her questions to fill out my note sheet, she showed me her hands and said something that shocked me. 

“See these hands, these hands have picked cotton!” 

As she said that to me, I was taken aback. Why did her hands pick cotton, but mine didn’t?

We kept talking; it all led back to the Emancipation Proclamation.

See, my grandmother was born in Louisiana, and my grandfather was born in a Southern state as well, so they were born in slavery. After the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, their families both left the South as soon as they could, unlike others who stayed. 

Her ancestors stayed, while mine decided to move to Chicago in search of better opportunities. There they had my mother and her siblings, who eventually had my sister and me. I’m grateful to them for leaving because that’s the choice that parents make: to give their children better opportunities than the ones that they were dealt.

My mother never had to pick cotton and could instead focus on her education and on creating better opportunities for us. This led them to come to Gary in 1957.

Back then, life was slower here: Sandhills were prominent, and we’d play there all day until the sand fleas would attach to us. Later, my mother brought me a sewing machine that opened me up to my lifelong passion and career.

I don’t know if it would have happened if my ancestors hadn’t left when they did. Maybe it would’ve happened eventually. 

But reflections like this happen often when you’ve owned a business as long as I have in an ever-changing community like Gary.