The late James Fisher, who was born in 1952, was an eighth-generation direct descendant of Capt. George Pointer. The youngest and only son of four children, Fisher’s childhood in Northwest and Southest DC was marred by his father’s abusive behavior toward his mother and siblings. He had little extended family as a safety net, but his mother was able to “keep us on the other side of the street from the projects.” After graduating from Ballou High School in 1972, where he played sports, he went to UDC for two years then joined the military. His determination to live the life of his choosing brought him through four years in the Army then a 25-year career with the federal government, mostly in supervisory roles. With a cochlear implant to salvage what remains of his hearing after his stint as an Army gunner, he now devotes himself to amplifying his family’s saga as an American story that has been left out of the history books for too long.
The genealogical discovery of his family roots occurred when he and his partner, Tanya Hardy, began working on the Fisher family tree a decade ago. In a serendipitous twist, Fisher and Hardy crossed paths with two researchers who were tracing the lineage of George Pointer, a formerly enslaved man whose remarkable life was encapsulated in an 1829 letter tucked away in the National Archives. With this meeting, Fisher learned for the first time that his family on his mother’s side had a distinguished patron who had worked for George Washington, and that for 80 years his family had been landowners in Chevy Chase DC until racial intolerance in the 1920s forced them out.
Fisher, who was married once, lives alone in Colmar Manor, MD. His long-standing interest in world history has led him to travel extensively. He has three grown children, including a son in the military, another with the U.S. Postal Service, and a daughter who is an orthopedic surgeon. He remains close to his three sisters who have also been the subject of this oral history project. He describes himself as someone whose private life is increasingly burdened by clinical depression but “it doesn’t stop me from doing good.”
James passed away at his home in January 2024.
Below are excerpts from three oral history interviews of James, one from 2016 and two from April 2021:
When asked (in the 2016 interview) if he had any knowledge of being related to George Pointer before this genealogy search began: None whatsoever. First of all, I had no idea that my family had been in this area for so long. In my lifetime, the family has been divided and disconnected. One could not imagine that there was a time when they forged a very strong bond … My only regret is that it didn’t come to light sooner. The knowledge that such people were in your family inspires generations. Being separated from your culture is a real tragedy. As a little child I was fixated on ancient history, because I was looking for something to be proud of. When you say slavery to a young person and see the images, you see nothing to be proud of. Other cultures can find all sorts of heroes. The African-American community needs them. It has to hit strong and early in a child’s life.
On his reaction to finding that the National Park Service was using George Pointer’s life story in an exhibit at Great Falls Visitor’s Center without attribution (a situation that has since been corrected due to his advocacy): I speak my mind no matter where I am or who I’m around… did I receive any pushback when we went up to the National Park Service up in Great Falls once we found out that my ancestral grandfather was being exhibited, but they didn’t add his name? They knew who he was, but they didn’t put his name up there or anything about him. And I’m standing around the board with some National Park Service management, and I was like, “You’ve been pimping my ancestral grandfather …. you make approximately two million dollars a year annually from ticket fees to enter the park. Why haven’t you put his name up?
On why repair for Black land loss must involve restoration of land ownership: That’s what we need – land. That will honor our ancestors … (T)hey can be as nice as they want to. Unless they give us land back, they can’t give us enough. They can say whatever they want to say. They can shower you with all kinds of words. It hurts when they have to give up something that they don’t want to give up, that was taken from someone else … it seems as though, throughout history, we’ve been begging for fair play, for fairness. And we’ve been told to wait, it’s coming.
On why paying African Americans money isn’t sufficient to make up for the degradation of slavery and disenfranchisement, but providing land deeds offers people dignity: Money makes no sense, especially when you’re talking about something as heavy as reparations for slavery. Your ancestors’ blood, sweat, and tears. Killed, hung, burned, slaughtered, raped.”
About the difference having a role model in his own family might have meant to his development: I did not know I had a famous ancestor grandfather, Captain George Pointer … had I known about him growing up, it might have changed my life. If I read that letter and I knew of his life, and the things we have in common and how he dealt, I might have achieved more.
About why it’s imperative to tell the full history of the African Americans experience in the United States: Now there’s a lot undiscovered that we need to find and re-embrace. Our history has never been told the way our history is meant to be true. First, with honesty, we need to do that. You need to reach back. The old saying is, if you don’t know about your past, you don’t know where you’re going.
His reaction on Lafayette-Pointer Park for the first time, standing on the land his family had owned for 80 years: How did I feel? My answer was and is pride, a sense of pride – and anger. But what dominated and continues to dominate is anger … I think there’s just not enough Black people who express their anger because when we do we are accused of being violent. It’s supposed to be a no-no. It’s losing control. But we’re human.
On his upbringing and how his military experience shaped him: I was very quiet, insanely quiet, as a child. My mother was seriously worried about me. I didn’t talk. I was just scoping things out. I might have been traumatized as well. I began to think about that, I guess, when I was around 40 years. I might have been traumatized. I didn’t live in a very healthy household to me and my three sisters …From my military experience I learned that I’m going to fight if I’m treated unfairly. Which I have done all my life, so that’s not easy. It’s a constant battle from an early age.
On his philosophy about making his own way in life, regardless of what cards he was dealt: I started earning my money when I was about five years old. And that continued throughout my life. I first started making money in hustling bottles. Then I would go to a construction site, and I would go to the store for the workers a couple of times a day. Then I started moving bricks to where the bricklayers needed them when they ran out. I bagged groceries. I worked at fast food, restaurants, and whatever, but I continued to work.
On his expectations of whether his family will ever see reparations for his forebears’ direct experience with Black land loss: For my family? Let’s see, how old am I? [Laughs.] I do not see—I don’t see anything that can be called reparation. I don’t see it. I don’t see it in my lifetime. Whatever was put on the table, I’ll consider an embarrassment. Shameful, a shame. I don’t see it. I think land is too valuable to them.