My name is Aubrey. I’m a multi-generational Floridian, writer, artist, and most importantly, a storyteller. I was born and raised in Redland, where the mangos and avocados hang heavy in the old groves, bordered by royal palms and bougainvillea, and walls of coral rock. These days I call the rolling fields of Levy County home, though a piece of my heart will always belong in the 305. My love for Florida history began with my Mema telling me stories about our ancestors. She taught me that real history doesn’t just live in museums or battlefields. It lives in the lives of everyday folks—the ones who boiled peanuts and smoked mutton, survived storms, sat barefoot on a front porch, and passed stories down like heirlooms.
But she also taught me that Florida’s history isn’t just something that lives in a textbook. It’s something you belong to. It lives in the land. And that history didn’t begin in 1845, or even 1513. It began with the people who were here long before us. And it has been carried forward by all of the people who shaped this State—Seminole and Miccosukee, Cracker and Conch, Black and Caribbean, Jewish and Latino, and everything in-between. And that means honoring their stories with care, respect, and truth.
Florida Folk History began as just a humble Instagram account in 2018, just a little place to share the sides of Florida I grew up loving. The one that doesn’t always make the history books, but lives in the stories our grandparents told us at the kitchen table. I never dreamed it would become what it is now: a gathering place for proud Floridians from all walks of life, curious newcomers, history nerds, artists, archivists, and wild-hearted wanderers, each drawn to this beautiful, bizarre state and the stories that shaped it.
As our community grew, so did the need for expansion. This site is the next evolution, a dedicated home where we can go deeper, wander further, and stay longer. You’ll find everything from longform articles and photo essay to folklore, recipes, vintage postcards and ephemera, and maybe a few hidden surprises for vigilant readers to find and explore.
Here, history is personal. I write from memory, for the dusty pages of old newspapers, from family photos and faded letters, and names etched into headstones. Here, the past isn’t dead. It’s alive, it’s speaking, and just waiting for someone to listen.
So whether you’ve been here since the beginning or just stumbled upon this site today, welcome! Leave a comment sharing your favorite Florida memory, or where you’re checking in from.
Now go explore.
— Swamp Mama