Caitlin Abrams has turned the quiet burial grounds of western Vermont into a stage for a growing online phenomenon. Armed with a sturdy brush and a high‑pressure sprayer, she restores 18th‑ and 19th‑century headstones, narrates the lives of those buried beneath them, and amasses thousands of followers on TikTok. Her work, which began as a pandemic‑era pastime, now sits at the intersection of heritage conservation, social media fame, and a broader cultural re‑engagement with mortality. As her videos circulate globally, the practice raises questions about the ethics of using historic graves for digital exposure, the risks of amateur restoration, and the timeless rituals societies employ to remember their departed.
From Pandemic Pastime to Online Sensation
When COVID‑19 lockdowns forced many into low‑risk outdoor activities, a unexpected niche emerged: the cleaning of historic tombstones. Abrams, who had already been experimenting with cleaning tutorials, noticed a surge in interest for soothing, repetitive visual content. “Sometimes you can definitely see a difference right away,” she said. “Other times, it’s a month later you’ll come back and go ‘oh my gosh, it’s beautiful.’” Her early clips, posted in early 2020, quickly attracted viewers drawn to the calming rhythm of water meeting stone.
The appeal was not merely aesthetic. As the world grappled with heightened awareness of mortality, Abrams’ videos offered a contemplative pause. She often highlighted the stories of young women and children, a focus she attributes to her own experience as a mother of two. “I’m drawn to it and kind of look at it and see how I feel,” she explained. “I let them pick me,” she added, describing her intuitive method of selecting graves to restore. This personal connection resonated with audiences seeking authenticity amid the digital noise.
Weaving History into Each Brushstroke
Each cleaning session doubles as a mini‑research project. Abrams cross‑references public records, old newspaper archives, and genealogical databases to piece together the biographies of the people whose names she scrubs into the light. “It’s like journalism, but for dead people,” she joked. Her most notable restoration, completed a year ago, revived the marble marker of Mary Bailey, who died in 1852 at the age of 21. The gleaming white stone now stands in stark contrast to the adjacent grave of Bailey’s sister, Eliza, whose marker had long been veiled in moss and grime.
Beyond the visual transformation, Abrams aims to amplify voices that have historically been marginalised in cemetery narratives. By focusing on young women and children, she challenges the traditional dominance of male-centric historic accounts. Her approach has sparked a modest movement of other creators who similarly combine cleaning footage with historical storytelling, creating a niche that blends education with entertainment.
Preserving Heritage in the Age of Virality
While Abrams’ work has been celebrated for its educational value, industry experts caution against the pitfalls of unregulated restoration. John Appell, CEO of Atlas Preservation and a professional monument restorer, warns that the surge of amateur cleaners can cause irreversible damage. “This is not a blanket statement, but there’s certainly a significant number of people that seem to be out there that kind of just want fame,” he said. In 2021, an amateur genealogist in Maryland admitted to damaging roughly 200 gravestones due to improper cleaning techniques, underscoring the need for proper training.
Educational workshops have emerged as a counterbalance, offering volunteers the chance to learn safe cleaning methods before they touch historic sites. In 2016, hundreds of volunteers gathered in Louisiana to restore a Civil War‑era cemetery, illustrating a collaborative model that balances community involvement with professional oversight. Appell stresses that cleaning is only one facet of a broader preservation effort that includes structural stabilisation, vegetation management, and long‑term monitoring.
The scale of the challenge is staggering. Joshua Stevens, a data visualisation specialist, has mapped over 144,000 graveyards across the United States, many of which require more than surface cleaning. While digital interest can mobilise resources, it also brings scrutiny. Critics argue that filming and uploading content without explicit permission from cemetery authorities or descendants can be exploitative. Abrams, however, maintains that she seeks permission where possible and emphasises transparency about her intentions.
Global Rituals of Remembrance: From Vermont to Mexico
The act of tending to the dead is not a new phenomenon, but its expression varies across cultures. In Mexico, families traditionally clean and adorn graves with vibrant orange marigolds during the Day of the Dead celebrations. This observance, which runs from 31 October to 2 November, honours accident victims, children, and adults in a colourful tapestry of memory. The practice reflects a communal approach to mourning that contrasts with the solitary, solitary nature of Abrams’ TikTok sessions.
In the Asia‑Pacific region, similar trends are emerging. In Japan, “seijin-sōsō” (grave cleaning) is a seasonal duty, particularly during Obon, a Buddhist festival honouring ancestors. Social media platforms now host videos of younger Japanese users sharing their grave‑cleaning routines, often blending traditional rites with modern aesthetics. Australia’s multicultural landscape sees a mix of Western and Indigenous customs, where community groups organise “bush cemetery” clean‑ups, echoing the collaborative spirit seen in Louisiana’s Civil War restoration.
These global examples highlight a shared human impulse: to physically engage with the spaces where loved ones rest. Whether through marigolds, high‑pressure sprayers, or brushstrokes, the act of cleaning becomes a tangible dialogue with history, offering both personal solace and collective remembrance.
Why it Matters
The rise of grave‑cleaning content reflects a deeper societal shift toward seeking meaning through tangible, hands‑on engagement with heritage. In an era dominated by screens and virtual interactions, the tactile experience of restoring a weathered stone provides a grounding counterpoint, reconnecting individuals with the passage of time and the continuity of family narratives. Yet this trend also underscores the urgent need for ethical guidelines and professional oversight to protect fragile historic sites from well‑intentioned but damaging interventions. As the digital footprint of such activities expands, the balance between public participation and preservation expertise will shape how future generations inherit and honour their past.