On a crisp spring morning in Northampton County, North Carolina, the breeze moved through the cotton fields like memory. It was the beginning of planting season at Black Cotton, a time that carries both weight and wonder — where every decision a farmer makes can shape the harvest. This is the moment when legacy and labor meet, and for Julius Tillery, founder of Black Cotton, it’s a cycle he’s committed to honoring and innovating with purpose.
For those of us in the RAFI community, Julius’ story is one of familiar roots and expansive growth. He began working at RAFI at the age of 23, bringing with him a lived knowledge of agriculture passed down through generations. He says his time at RAFI helped sharpen his skills in advocacy, outreach, and resource navigation — tools he has carried into his own farming journey and now generously shares with others.
Today, Julius is a fifth-generation cotton farmer and a powerful voice in reshaping how we talk about cotton in Black communities. While cotton is often viewed solely through the lens of enslavement, Julius offers a counter-narrative. He rarely speaks of cotton from the perspective of the enslaved. Instead, he lifts up the stories of post-Emancipation Black farmers and people who picked cotton as a means to survive, feed their families, and build independent lives. He speaks from experience as one of the only Black cotton farmers in the agricultural policy and conferences he frequently attends. His presence alone disrupts assumptions.
This is not nostalgia — it’s strategic, grounded work. Cotton makes sense in Northampton County. The land, climate, and market align, and Julius has built a brand that uplifts cotton as both a viable crop and a cultural statement. Black Cotton isn’t just a farm; it’s a reclamation and redefinition of a legacy.
During our visit, we toured an old schoolhouse built by Julius’ great-grandfather — his namesake — for the children too young to work in the fields. We stood beneath a four-row cotton picker once operated by an uncle who was killed in a farming accident. Julius shared how he still envisions his uncle driving the picker down the rows. The machine is now overgrown with brush, slowly blending back into the landscape like an artifact. We also visited four family grave ledgers on the property — his great-grandparents and grandparents, whose vision, lives, and labor shaped this land.
This land tells stories, and Julius is a skilled interpreter. He spoke of the ancestral gifts that have been lost over time — like the incredible physical endurance required to pick cotton by hand at a pace that is now almost unimaginable. He demonstrated the motion with his own hands, explaining that our bodies today could hardly endure the same labor. It was a lesson in both reverence and resilience.
We also met farmer Kristen Watson, a neighbor and longtime family friend, who has returned to her ancestral home to raise laying hens and eventually plant a fruit orchard. Her presence, like Julius’, is part of a broader movement to reclaim and repurpose family land for sustainable and sovereign farming practices.
As a RAFI staff member, this visit was a reminder that the seeds we plant through advocacy and mentorship often bloom far beyond what we imagine. Julius’ time at RAFI was just the beginning. He now stands as a farmer, educator, artist, and entrepreneur. He is cultivating a future where cotton is not a symbol of oppression, but of power, ownership, and pride in Black hands.
This visit was just the start. I’ll return again — when the fields are in full bloom and the air is thick with the energy of harvest. The work Julius Tillery is doing at Black Cotton is more than meaningful — it’s movement-building, rooted deeply in history and growing toward liberation.
