A brown kraft paper pouch of Catawba Yaupon roasted loose-leaf tea, positioned next to a fresh Yaupon holly sprig against a clean, light-colored background.

Indigenous Heritage Tea, Juneteenth & Yaupon's Roots

A formal black-and-white historical portrait of a nineteenth-century military officer with a full beard, wearing a uniform with visible buttons and insignia.

On Juneteenth: Heritage, Land, and the Plants That Survived

Juneteenth lives at the crossroads of memory and land.

On June 19, 1865, Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas, and announced that the roughly 250,000 people still enslaved in Texas were free. The Emancipation Proclamation was two and a half years old by then. The news had been kept from them.

That ground in Galveston wasn't a blank stage. It was Karankawa land. Atakapa-Ishak land. Coastal prairie and oak woodland where Indigenous peoples had cultivated, harvested, and traded long before the cotton economy arrived. Freedom, when it finally came, came to a place already layered with other people's stories.

That layering matters. So do the plants.

Two pairs of hands holding a rustic wooden bowl filled with dried Yaupon leaves and seeds, topped with a fresh Yaupon holly branch bearing ripe red berries.

Two Survivals, One Soil

Black and Native histories in the American South are tangled in ways that don't reduce to a single narrative.

Enslaved people fleeing plantations sometimes found refuge among Indigenous communities. The Seminole in Florida absorbed and intermarried with people of African descent for generations, building towns like Pilaklikaha and Angola where Black and Native lives wove together. The Underground Railroad ran in more directions than north — south into Florida, west into Indian Territory, and into swamps and pine barrens nobody else wanted.

There were also harder truths. Several tribes held enslaved people themselves. The Freedmen of the Five Tribes — Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Seminole — are descendants of those enslaved by Native nations, and their fight for full tribal citizenship is still ongoing.

But solidarity was real, and it survived. Maroon communities in the Great Dismal Swamp shared knowledge of which roots fed you, which leaves healed you, which trees hid you. Black Seminole towns farmed and fought side by side. The kind of survival that lives in recipes, in plant knowledge, in the foods you grow because someone once handed you the seed and told you to remember.

What Came in the Pockets, What Was Already Here

When we talk about heritage food and drink in the South, two streams meet.

One came across the Atlantic in the holds of slave ships, sometimes literally braided into hair — okra, black-eyed peas, sorghum, rice cultivars, watermelon. Enslaved Africans carried agricultural knowledge that built whole Southern economies. Carolina Gold rice was an African crop tended with African expertise, and it made plantation fortunes that no one credited to the people who grew it.

The other stream was already here. Corn. Beans. Squash. Pecans. Persimmons. Sassafras. And a small, glossy-leaved holly that grew along the Gulf Coast and across the Southeast: yaupon.

Yaupon is the only caffeinated plant native to what's now the United States. Southeastern Indigenous peoples — Catawba, Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Timucua, Karankawa, and many others — drank it for ceremony, for hospitality, for daily life. It traveled hundreds of miles inland through trade networks. Archaeologists have found residue of it in cups at Cahokia, far north of where the plant grows wild. It was poured into shell vessels at the start of councils. It was steeped for ordinary mornings.

European botanists later gave the plant a slanderous Latin name — Ilex vomitoria — based on a misreading of ceremonial practices that involved emetics from other plants and other circumstances. The name stuck. The tea, competing against imported black and green tea, was nearly forgotten by mainstream America.

Nearly. Not entirely.

How a Plant Survives

A few things kept yaupon from disappearing.

It kept growing. Holly is stubborn. The shrubs and small trees lined fence rows, riverbanks, and coastal scrub even where they stopped being harvested. Birds spread the seeds. The plant outlasted the silence around it.

Indigenous communities kept the knowledge. Quieter, often, than it had been — pushed aside by colonial preference for imported tea, dismissed by botanists, ignored in the broader American kitchen. But it didn't vanish. Elders remembered. Some households kept brewing it. Some never stopped.

And in the last decade or so, that knowledge has begun to move again. Yaupon is showing up on tea shelves, in cafés, in restaurants from Austin to Charleston. The interesting part — the part worth paying attention to — is who's leading.

A brown kraft paper pouch of Catawba Yaupon green loose-leaf tea, featuring a label with an illustration of a person harvesting Yaupon, set in a rustic kitchen environment.

Indigenous-Led, Heritage-Rooted

Catawba Yaupon is one of the companies in that movement: an Indigenous-led business in the Carolinas working to bring yaupon back into wider use while keeping the cultural roots clear. The work involves harvesting, roasting, and packaging the leaves, but it's also about teaching. About naming what the plant is, who used it, and why it matters that those communities are the ones telling the story now.

That kind of stewardship is part of what makes yaupon worth calling an indigenous heritage tea — not just a tea native to the continent, but one whose return is being shaped by the descendants of the people who first knew it.

It's also part of what Juneteenth can hold space for. Not a single story of freedom, but a braided one. Black liberation, Indigenous sovereignty, and the long work of keeping ancestral knowledge alive on the same land where so much was taken.

Frequently Asked Questions

What does yaupon tea taste like?

Yaupon offers a remarkably smooth, versatile flavor profile with zero bitterness because it is naturally low in tannins. When processed lightly, it yields a bright, green, and grassy flavor profile. When roasted, the flavor shifts into deeply satisfying, rich notes of toasted nuts, wood, and cocoa.

Does yaupon tea contain caffeine?

Yes! Yaupon is the only naturally caffeinated plant native to the United States. A standard 8-ounce cup contains a moderate amount of caffeine (typically around 40–60mg, roughly half the amount found in a standard cup of coffee).

Will drinking yaupon cause a caffeine crash or jitters?

Unlike coffee or energy drinks, yaupon delivers a steady, jitter-free energy boost without a sharp crash. This smooth effect is due to a natural combination of mild caffeine levels and theobromine—the same jitter-minimizing, mood-elevating compound found in dark chocolate.

What are the health benefits of yaupon tea?

Yaupon is packed with health benefits. It is rich in powerful antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds like chlorogenic acid and rutin, which help protect cells from oxidative stress, improve circulation, and support cardiovascular health.

Support Indigenous Stewardship and Honor the Land

Pour a cup, if you want a small, specific way in. Yaupon brewed lightly tastes green and grassy, a little like a soft sencha. Roasted, it leans toward toasted nuts and cocoa, closer to a yerba mate or a darker oolong. The caffeine is steady and clean — about half what you'd get from coffee, no crash on the back end.

But the larger gesture is bigger than a cup. Use Juneteenth to read the longer histories: the Freedmen citizenship cases, the Black Seminole story, the seed-savers and plant-keepers in both Black and Native communities who held on through losses most of us can barely imagine. Cook something that came from those hands. Brew something that came from this ground.

The land remembers what we plant. It remembers what we drink. It remembers who taught us, and who got left out of the telling.

This Juneteenth, the plants that survived are still here, ready to teach anyone willing to learn from them. The least we can do is name them right, and credit the people who kept them alive.

Bobbie Harris

Bobbie Harris

Bobbie Harris co-founded Catawba Yaupon with her daughter, bringing yaupon holly — North America's only native caffeinated plant — into Native communities and onto tables across the country. Rooted in her Catawba heritage, Bobbie works directly with growers and foragers across the Carolinas to source, prepare, and share yaupon tea using methods informed by centuries of Indigenous tradition. Her mission is to restore a plant that sustained Native peoples for over a thousand years to its rightful place — and to make sure its story travels with every cup.
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