When you open that PDF—whether you find a pre-existing anthology or a blank template—you are holding a tool of justice. Every name you type, every photograph you scan, every story you transcribe is an act of resurrection. You are telling the cousin who worked the fields, the grandmother who fed the poor, the uncle who fixed the pipes for free: I see you. The record shows you. You are no longer unsung.

The word carries weight. Rooted in Southern and African American vernacular, it implies a deep, often rural, interconnected family network that extends beyond the nuclear family to include cousins, close neighbors, and "play aunties." It suggests a collective, not just a collection.