Part 2: Gravesites and Geospatial Tools — Dr. Rosado’s Cemetery Project and Ethical Archaeology

When Dr. Maria Rosado first began noticing the scattered and often neglected cemeteries dotting the South Jersey countryside, she didn’t just drive past them—she felt compelled to understand them. “What is going on with these cemeteries?” she remembered asking herself. “Are they being cared for? Is anyone doing anything with them?”

That curiosity blossomed into a collaborative, multi-year project that culminated in the publication of The Historical Archaeology of the Cohansey Baptist Cemetery (2004). It all began informally—with conversations between Dr. Rosado and two of her students, Sharon and Christy—about the cultural visibility of cemeteries in the region.

After investigating local leads, they visited the Cohansey Baptist Cemetery in Salem County. Though no longer affiliated with an active church, the cemetery still sat on private farmland, and the owner—himself a descendant of those buried there—welcomed the idea of respectful study. From there, the work unfolded organically.

“I thought maybe I could implement this as part of my archaeology course,” Rosado explained. “So we involved students in a real research project—to go there, read inscriptions, and treat the tombstones as the historical artifacts they are.”

Each team member brought unique expertise: Sharon Mollick conducted all GIS and GPS mapping; Christy researched the historical context; and Dr. Rosado developed the archaeological framework and interpretive questions. “This was historical archaeology,” she said, “and while I’m not a historical archaeologist, I brought in others with those specialties to ensure we got it right.”

The project took years. Every inscription was documented. The cemetery was mapped with early geospatial tools. They even tracked trends—such as high mortality rates among women of childbearing age and the older ages of most husbands—insights that reflected family structures and gender dynamics of the time. “You could see serial monogamy happening across generations,” Rosado said. “Men would lose a wife to childbirth, bury her, and then remarry.”

Ethics and Respect for the Dead

One of the most striking features of the project wasn’t technological—it was ethical. Dr. Rosado emphasized the reverence her team held for the burial ground and those resting there.

“We weren’t there to joke or take selfies,” she said. “We treated every grave with the same level of respect we’d want for our own family members.”

Before beginning the project, the team obtained full permissions from the landowner, church representatives, and local stakeholders. Everyone involved understood the purpose and scope of the work. “Transparency was essential,” Rosado noted. “Everyone had to know what we were doing and why.”

On site, the students were taught to approach their research with solemnity and care. “You don’t lean on the stones, you don’t pose next to them for photos. You do your job quietly, with humility.”

The ethics extended to documentation, too. “You couldn’t assume anything,” she said. “If a stone was broken and showed only half a name, that’s what we recorded. No guessing. No filling in gaps. That kind of rigor is an ethical responsibility.”

Rosado also emphasized that the knowledge they uncovered wasn’t hoarded—it was shared. The full findings were handed over to the Salem County Historical Society for preservation, public access, and community benefit. “Ethics means respecting the dead,” she said, “but also making sure the living can learn from them.”

The cemetery project may have ended, but its legacy continues—in the community, in the historical record, and in the many students who learned firsthand how anthropology can be both rigorous and reverent. As Dr. Rosado put it, “It was a little thing, but we were proud of it. And it mattered.”

Stay tuned for Part 3, where Dr. Rosado discusses her international work in Chile and how her connection to her homeland shaped a new chapter in her anthropological journey.