Some Lady

In 1918, as influenza swept through the United States, a young Black woman in rural Pitt County, North Carolina, was caring for sick neighbors with knowledge she had learned long before any university took an interest in her. She knew the plants growing along the Tar River and around her home, and she prepared traditional remedies for people who came to her door seeking help. Her name was Emma Dupree, born in 1897 near Falkland, North Carolina. Her parents had been born into slavery, and she grew up during the Jim Crow era, when segregation and poverty severely limited access to medical care for many Black families, particularly in rural communities. From childhood, Dupree learned to identify plants such as sassafras, mint, mullein, catnip, tansy, rabbit tobacco and maypop, knowledge that was passed down through experience and community tradition. Neighbors began calling her “Little Medicine Thing,” a name that reflected how closely she became associated with healing. She prepared herbal mixtures in ordinary household containers, including jars that had once held food, and explained to people how she believed the remedies should be used. She did not charge for them, although people sometimes brought gifts such as honey or molasses. Her reputation was built over decades of helping people in her community. What makes Dupree’s story especially remarkable is what happened late in her life. In 1979, when she was in her early eighties, East Carolina University’s School of Medicine filmed her discussing the plants she knew and the traditional remedies she prepared. The roughly 40-minute film, “Little Medicine Thing: Emma Dupree, Herbalist,” preserved knowledge that had largely existed outside formal medical institutions. Her story is not a claim that traditional remedies replaced modern medicine. It is a reminder that Black communities developed and preserved their own systems of knowledge, especially when discrimination and limited access made professional healthcare difficult to obtain. Dupree’s expertise came from generations of observation, practice and community trust. She later received the Brown-Hudson Award from the North Carolina Folklore Society in 1984 and the North Carolina Heritage Award in 1992. Emma Dupree died in 1996, just months short of her 99th birthday. Today, her legacy survives not only in historical recognition, but in the remarkable record of an elderly Black woman whose lifetime of knowledge was finally documented for future generations.