(dramatic music) - [Narrator] Sapelo Island is one of those places in America you've probably never heard of.

Nestled off the coast of Georgia, not far from Savannah, it's a patchwork of salt marshes, dense forests and secluded beaches.

This is the home of the last remaining residents of the Gullah Geechee Community in Hog Hammock.

These residents are descendants of enslaved West and Central Africans, who were brought to the lower Atlantic United States centuries ago to work on plantations.

Today, they still work on the land their ancestors tilled.

But with each passing year, the pressure mounts as development increases on the island.

The Gullah way of life has become under threat.

On this episode of "The Color Line Diaries", we'll explore this land issue.

(gentle music) On the island, the Gullah people are being priced out as new million-dollar homes drive up property taxes.

Meet J.R.

Grovner, the Gullah descendant behind Black Land Matters, who is fighting for locals to keep their homes.

- Our people did a lot for, for this land.

This is a land that's been passed down for years and years.

We've been here, our grandparents raised here, mom and dad raised here.

Sapelo, a lot of us got our land from after slavery.

Started Black Land Matters basically to help black people save their land.

Our property taxes went up.

For example, on a half acre, some people's paying about $600 a year, then the bill went up to $3,000 a year.

Added the garbage pick up to our taxes, which is, that's a service we don't get on the island.

They get that service on the mainland.

They charge us a 911 tax, stuff like that.

If you call 911 right now, let's wait and see who comes.

You don't pay your taxes, they take your land and sell it at a tax sale.

I know of about four or five pieces that's been lost to tax sales.

At one point in time, we had about eight different communities, but we only got one community now, the Hog Hammock Community.

So it's kind of scared to say what I might see 50 years from now.

It's kind of scared to say what it may be like 20 years from now.

The community still be here, the community may be here.

You know, They always keep the community in name, Hog Hammock Community.

You know, whether any of us will be in the community, it's kind of hard to say.

Even though we pay taxes on it, it's the only thing we actually got is the land.

You know, we can use our land to grow.

We can farm on it, it can feed us, you know, so why not take care of the land?

And seeing somebody lose it, you know, it's like losing a piece of family, you know, a piece of your life.

(gentle music) - [Narrator] As the Gullah population declines, locals hold tightly to their heritage.

Here, traditions are not simply remembered, they are lived.

Sweetgrass baskets are meticulously woven, not as artifacts, but as symbols of a culture fighting to survive.

Each thread tells a story, each basket a chapter, in the ongoing saga of the Gullah people.

- These baskets, they'll last forever.

They was making baskets much bigger because they made 'em for working in the fields and taking stuff to the market and stuff like that.

They made working baskets.

You know, I go to different places teaching classes on baskets, because you know, it's a dying art.

So if you don't pass it on, you know, it will die out.

And a lot of people do it in Charleston, but in Georgia.

But we need more young people here on the island.

So if you don't get more people coming back or coming to stay here, it won't be a community.

(dramatic music) - [Narrator] As this place stands at a crossroads, the struggle here is not about land, but about identity and endurance in the face of relentless pressure.

(gentle music) (dramatic music) (dramatic music continues)