A bare tree hung with cobalt and green glass bottles glowing in the last light, with tidal marsh and a low horizon behind it

The Gullah Geechee Flag and Its Symbols

Written by Robert Lawrence|Published July 25, 2026

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Table of Contents
    Black woman wall art in a gold floating frame, watercolor of a quiet moment beside tall marsh grass
    From the Collection

    From the sea islands to your wall.

    7 Lowcountry pieces hang in the Gullah Geechee salon, one at a time.

    Walk the Gullah Salon

    The Gullah Geechee flag is the banner of the Gullah/Geechee Nation, a cultural nation of Sea Island descendants that adopted it on July 2, 2000, the same day it enstooled Marquetta Goodwine, known as Queen Quet, as head of state. Past that founding date, the documented trail thins out fast, and different retellings of the flag's colors and symbols do not agree with each other.

    That is not really a knock on the flag. Plenty of living traditions run ahead of their paperwork. It is a reason to slow down before repeating a confident description you found on a graphic-design blog or a t-shirt listing, because several of those descriptions contradict the flag's own official page.

    This article covers what can actually be verified about the flag, flags the parts that are thin or contested, and then spends real time on the symbols around Gullah Geechee identity that have a much deeper paper trail: sweetgrass baskets, haint blue, bottle trees, the ring shout, and the woman who became the Nation's first elected head of state.

    Two hands coiling sweetgrass and pulling a palmetto strip through the row with a bone handled tool, with bundles of grass and pine needles nearby

    When was the flag adopted, and by whom?

    The Gullah/Geechee Nation declared itself a nation on July 2, 2000. According to the Nation's own account of that anniversary, the "Who Speak fa We" election that put Queen Quet in office was confirmed that day in an enstoolment ceremony on Sullivan's Island, in Charleston County, South Carolina. The flag entered use alongside that founding moment.

    It's worth being precise about what kind of nation this is. The Gullah/Geechee Nation is not a federally recognized sovereign government. It is a self-declared cultural nation, an advocacy structure built by and for Gullah Geechee people to represent their interests, defend their land, and speak with one voice on the world stage. The flag functions the way any young nation's flag does. It's a visual claim to identity, made in public, on a specific day.

    Who actually designed it?

    Here is where the record gets thin. The only account of the flag's creation comes from the Gullah/Geechee Nation's own page on the flag, which states that it was commissioned by a man named Carlie Towne, working with an organization called the Gullah/Geechee People Foundation, based in Goose Creek, South Carolina.

    No independent source confirms who Carlie Towne was, what the design process looked like, or whether early sketches exist anywhere. Every other page repeating this detail is quoting the same original text, not adding new information. That does not make the claim false. It means a single, unverified, first-party account is currently the entire record, and honest reporting should say that instead of dressing it up as settled history.

    What do the colors and images actually represent?

    According to the Nation's own description, the flag carries an indigo blue field meant to evoke the sea and the sky over sweetgrass fields, a gold seal set inside a circle representing unity through the Gullah/Geechee language and the legacy of the first African ancestors, and a tree with deep roots topped by what the Nation calls an "Emerald Crown," standing for heritage carried forward into a new legacy.

    That is the flag's own explanation, and it deserves to be taken seriously as the Nation's stated intent. But if you search around, you'll also find secondhand write-ups describing a different palette entirely, green for the land, red for bloodshed and sacrifice, blue for the water, with a Sankofa bird worked into the design. None of that shows up on the Nation's own flag page.

    Two accounts of the same flag, pointing in different directions on color and iconography, is a genuinely contested record. Rather than picking whichever version reads better, it's worth saying so directly: treat the exact palette and imagery as unsettled until a primary source clears it up, and treat the July 2000 adoption date and the flag's basic purpose, marking the Nation's founding and Queen Quet's election, as the two facts that do hold up.

    Who is Queen Quet, and why does a cultural nation need a flag at all?

    Marquetta L. Goodwine became Queen Quet on July 2, 2000, elected and enstooled by her own community as the first Head-of-State the Gullah/Geechee Nation had ever chosen for itself. The title isn't ceremonial theater. Goodwine had already spent years building the infrastructure a people need to be heard past their own coastline.

    On April 1, 1999, a year before the Nation formally existed, she became the first Gullah/Geechee person in history to speak before the United Nations, addressing the Commission on Human Rights in Geneva, Switzerland, on the threats facing Sea Island communities. She has kept that seat at the table since, representing Gullah Geechee interests in international forums that most small cultural communities never get access to at all.

    A flag matters here for a specific reason. Land loss is the daily emergency facing Gullah Geechee communities, driven by rising property taxes, resort development, and heirs' property law that can force a family plot to auction over a single relative's unpaid share. A flag is a cheap, portable way to say a people are still here, still organized, and still speaking for themselves, whether or not the design's exact meaning ever gets fully pinned down.

    What do sweetgrass baskets have to do with any of this?

    Sweetgrass basket weaving is the best-documented visual tradition connected to Gullah Geechee identity, and it long predates the flag by centuries. The craft traveled to the Carolina Lowcountry with enslaved West Africans who already knew how to coil grass into tight, functional vessels, expertise the Smithsonian Folklife Festival describes as part of "a broader repertoire of farming knowledge and expertise" that enslaved people carried with them, not something invented on American soil.

    Historian Dale Rosengarten, whose Row Upon Row, published by the University of South Carolina Press, remains the standard history of the craft, traces the baskets from their African roots through their use on Lowcountry rice plantations to their present life as sought-after art objects. The earliest versions were rice fanner baskets, wide and shallow, built to separate grain from husk. A Gullah Fanner Basket by Lynette Youson now sits in the Smithsonian American Art Museum's permanent collection, made from sweetgrass, bulrush, pine needles, and palmetto fronds, the same materials families have passed down for generations. Youson started sewing scraps of grass at her great-grandmother's side at age five. That kind of hand-to-hand transmission, not a workshop or a school, is how the craft has survived this long.

    Why are so many porch ceilings painted "haint blue"?

    Haint blue is a pale blue-green historically painted onto porch ceilings, door frames, and window shutters across the Gullah Geechee Lowcountry. "Haint" is a regional word for a restless spirit, and the belief behind the color holds that spirits can't cross water. Paint a ceiling the color of water or sky, the thinking goes, and a haint trying to get inside will mistake the ceiling for open air and pass on by.

    The practice has outlasted the belief that produced it. You'll find haint blue on grand Charleston mansions today just as often as on modest Gullah homes, which tells you something about how a spiritual practice can get absorbed into regional style long after most people painting the color have stopped thinking about what it was for.

    What is a bottle tree, and what was it actually supposed to do?

    A bottle tree is exactly what it sounds like: a dead tree or a built frame hung with empty glass bottles, usually blue. The practice traces to Kongo cosmology in Central Africa, carried into the American South by enslaved people and their descendants, where it took root most strongly along a belt running from the Carolina coast through Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and into east Texas.

    The idea behind it is straightforward once you hear it. Evil spirits are drawn to the bottles at night, get trapped inside, and burn off harmlessly the next morning in daylight. Whether or not a household still holds that belief literally, bottle trees remain a recognizable piece of yard art across the rural South, one of the clearer visible threads tying present-day Black Southern homes back to a specific Central African cosmology.

    What is the ring shout, and why do folklorists call it the oldest surviving Black performance tradition in America?

    The ring shout is a form of worship built from counterclockwise shuffling movement, call-and-response singing, and rhythm kept by hand claps and a stick beaten against a wooden floor, since enslavers on Lowcountry plantations banned drumming out of fear it could signal a revolt. Dancers keep their feet on the ground and never cross their legs, a rule that separated the shout, in the eyes of the enslaved people who practiced it, from ordinary dancing, which some considered sinful.

    The tradition survives today mainly through the McIntosh County Shouters of Bolden, Georgia, passed down from formerly enslaved grandparents London and Amy Jenkins to the group's founding generation, led for decades by elder songster Lawrence McKiver. In 1993 the group received a National Heritage Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, the country's highest honor for traditional and folk artists. The National Park Service's account of the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, which runs from Wilmington, North Carolina down to Jacksonville, Florida and takes in roughly eighty barrier islands, lists ring shouts and sweet grass basket weaving among the core living traditions the corridor exists to protect.

    What should you take away from all this?

    Some of what circulates about Gullah Geechee visual identity is thin, first-party, or genuinely contested, and the flag itself falls into that category more than most people writing about it seem willing to admit. But a lot of it is not thin at all. Sweetgrass baskets, haint blue, bottle trees, the ring shout, and Queen Quet's own documented record as an elected head of state and human rights advocate all rest on real institutional ground, from the Smithsonian to the National Endowment for the Arts to the Nation's own public statements.

    That mix, real symbols with real depth sitting next to a flag whose story is still being pieced together, is closer to how most living cultures actually work than the tidy, fully-resolved version sold on decor blogs. Robert Lawrence paints in that same Lowcountry visual world from his own studio, and Noirci Studio's Gullah/Geechee flag and Lowcountry art collection gathers his original paintings on the subject, printed to order on archival canvas in the United States. It is his own body of work, built alongside painters like Jonathan Green who've spent careers documenting this same coast, not a replica of anyone else's. If the flag's design is still an open question, the coastline it represents is not, and neither is the art coming out of it right now.

    For a related look at another flag with a far more documented origin, see our piece on the Pan-African flag's colors and meaning. And if the Sankofa bird mentioned in some retellings of this flag caught your attention, we've written a full breakdown of what Sankofa actually means and where it comes from.

    Sources

    Black woman wall art in a gold floating frame, watercolor of a quiet moment beside tall marsh grass
    From the Collection

    From the sea islands to your wall.

    7 Lowcountry pieces hang in the Gullah Geechee salon, one at a time.

    Walk the Gullah Salon