By Jordan Meadows
Staff Writer
Just outside the nation’s capital, in the suburban sprawl of Montgomery County, Maryland, lies a serene 116-acre stretch of forested land named in honor of a man whose legacy was nearly lost to history—Matthew Henson.
Matthew Henson State Park Stream Valley Park is threaded with a 4.2-mile paved trail that winds through woodlands and wetlands, with deer, wild turkeys, and birds making frequent appearances.
Most visitors may walk the trail without realizing the extraordinary life story of the park's namesake—unless they stop to read a modest trailside sign tracing the life of one of the greatest, yet least celebrated, explorers in American history.
Matthew Alexander Henson was born on August 8, 1866, in Maryland to free Black sharecroppers. Following his father’s death and amidst rising racial violence—including threats from the Ku Klux Klan—his family relocated to Georgetown in Washington, D.C. By the age of 12, Henson had left school and set off for a life at sea aboard the merchant ship Katie Hines, traveling to Africa, Asia, and the Arctic. His mentor, Captain Childs, taught him to read, write, and navigate.
After returning to D.C., Henson took a job at a department store where, in 1887, he met Robert E. Peary, a U.S. Navy engineer preparing for a surveying expedition in Nicaragua. Impressed by Henson’s maritime experience, Peary invited him along, and the two would remain professional partners for more than two decades.
In 1891, Henson began Arctic exploration. Over the next 18 years, he joined Peary on seven grueling expeditions to the Arctic, enduring brutal conditions, limited supplies, and constant peril. The dream was to be the first to reach the geographic North Pole.
Henson proved indispensable. Fluent in Inuktun and well-versed in Inuit survival techniques, he built sledges, constructed igloos, hunted for food, and was the only non-Inuit team member to master dog-sled mushing. The Inughuit called him “Mahri-Pahluk,” and he was respected not just as a skilled craftsman but as a cultural bridge and leader in the Arctic field.
In 1909, Peary and Henson made their final push for the Pole. As their 50-person team dwindled in the face of harsh weather and dwindling supplies, only Henson and four Inuit companions remained with Peary in the final leg. On April 6, 1909, Henson reportedly turned to Peary and said he had a “feeling” they had reached their destination. Peary planted a flag sewn by his wife, buried a note in the ice, and began the long trek back.
Years later, in his 1912 memoir A Negro Explorer at the North Pole, Henson recalled:
“Another world's accomplishment was done and finished. And as in the past, from the beginning of history, wherever a white man did the world's work, he had been accompanied by a colored man.”
Despite the monumental feat, it was Peary who received most of the acclaim. Henson, returning to a racially segregated United States during the Jim Crow era, was largely ignored by mainstream institutions. He did receive honors within the Black community and later found work at the U.S. Customs House in New York—ironically, a job recommended by Theodore Roosevelt, whose own exploration legacy was far more widely celebrated.
While Peary’s name became synonymous with Arctic exploration, Henson’s was nearly erased from public memory. It wasn't until decades later that his contributions began receiving formal acknowledgment.
In 1937, he became the first African American accepted into the Explorers Club; in 1948, he was elevated to honorary member status. Congress awarded him the Peary Polar Expedition Medal in 1944, and Presidents Truman and Eisenhower both honored him before his death in 1955.
Even so, it wasn’t until 1988—33 years after his passing—that Henson and his wife Lucy were reinterred with full honors at Arlington National Cemetery. That same year, British polar explorer Wally Herbert reignited debate over whether Peary’s expedition had actually reached the North Pole, citing inconsistencies in Peary’s notes. Still, most historians agree: without Henson’s expertise and resilience, Peary’s journey would likely have failed.
In recent decades, Henson’s name has finally begun to gain the recognition it deserves. The USNS Henson, a research vessel, was named in his honor. The International Astronomical Union named a crater on the Moon after him in 2021. Schools, state parks, and museums now include his name and likeness. At Bowdoin College's Peary-MacMillan Arctic Museum, Henson’s portrait—long missing—was added beside Peary’s in 2023, finally giving him his rightful place in the visual history of polar exploration.
Henson is also believed to be a great-great-granduncle of actress Taraji P. Henson.
