In the 400 years or so since Virginia’s colonization by Europeans, small settlements have come and gone. We know about Jamestown from archeological expeditions, and about the town of Providence (the forerunner to the City of Fairfax) from historic legal documents. Lost to the mists of time and, perhaps, disinterest, are other communities that were here for a few decades, supported families and businesses, but faded away. One such settlement was Ilda, barely a mile outside the Beltway, that might have been forgotten if not for dedicated Black family members and, curiously, the Virginia Department of Transportation (VDOT).

The story of Ilda is commemorated in a recent book, “A Place Called Ilda,” by Tom Shoop, a Virginia writer and historian, published by Rivanna Books, a University of Virginia imprint. Ilda was a thriving integrated community that sprang up post-Reconstruction and disappeared in the early 1900s. Today, all that is left of physical Ilda are a historic marker, a subdivision name, and a final gravesite at Pleasant Valley Memorial Park on Little River Turnpike. Much of Ilda lay in the present-day Braddock magisterial district along Guinea Road, but research indicates that the Pozez Jewish Community Center, Fairfax County Fire Station 23, and several current businesses on the north side of Little River Turnpike were located within Ilda’s informal boundaries. A school, a church, a blacksmith shop, and residences served Ilda’s families and travelers on the busy turnpike.

Shoop’s book is deeply researched and well-presented, but I found parts of it hard to read. Anger about how Ilda’s people – and memory – were treated, as well as the more recent fights with VDOT, a state agency, had me take a break from reading at times. Today’s Guinea Road is a residential street, and a popular commuter cut-through, widened and repaved by VDOT to meet traffic demands. Rumors of a cemetery near the intersection of Guinea Road and Little River Turnpike were backed up by oral tradition but Black historical sites were, and are, under-represented in the county. Previous widenings of the Guinea Road/Little River Turnpike intersection did not take any burials into consideration – until the early 2000s, that is. Although Ilda was gone, many of Ilda’s descendants still lived in Northern Virginia, and community outrage about paving over a purported cemetery without doing the necessary fieldwork made its way to the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors. Trees and brush were removed from the site before a backhoe was brought in. At first, hand digging revealed a few graves; when the fieldwork was complete, 29 graves had been identified, a number that eventually stretched to 35, all African American.

VDOT’s paving project was on hold while state and federal historic research was conducted. On September 30, 2006, family members gathered at the historic First Baptist Church of Merrifield for a memorial service. Later that day, the remains of the people buried at the Ilda Cemetery more than 100 years prior, were reburied with dignity and respect at Pleasant Valley, their final resting place. VDOT’s project to widen Guinea Road eventually was completed, and few commuters may be aware of the historic background of the intersection.

History is replete with stories of small settlements, especially those of under-represented peoples, that have disappeared, intentionally or not. Ilda (a shortened version of Matilda, the daughter of one of the original settlers) lives on in memory, if not literally, because of the commitment of family members who kept Ilda’s story alive. How many other Ildas are there? The answer may lie in the deep recesses of many families’ histories, and worthy of research on your own. The Virginia Room at the Fairfax City Library may be a good place to start.