“We Need Truth, Terribly”: A Grounding Post
It’s late Sunday morning and I’m sitting at my grandma’s kitchen table writing this post in my pajamas. The remnants of our morning coffee sits on the table beside my laptop along with a small candle and a bottle of water. My grandma’s virtual church service is a soft accompaniment to the pitter patter of my keyboard. This familiar place is where I’m spending the next five days as a part of a two week journey I’m taking through the Carolinas this summer. Part vacation, part historical scavenger hunt, this blog series will document my travels and the stories I find along the way.
I could have been writing this post from a sandy beach somewhere in the caribbean. Feeling restless and isolated after a year of covid had me wanting to be anywhere outside of my small apartment in southeast DC. I almost booked a trip to Grenada in hopes of hearing stories of their radical organizing history in between trips to the beach. But increasingly urgent warnings about the delta variant of coronavirus made me pause and meditate on what I really needed from a vacation abroad, and whether those needs could be met in safer ways.
I realized that I wanted to escape the negative aspects of my life as a Black person and community organizer in the US. I wanted to be able to breathe and forget about the housing crisis in my city. I wanted to forget about police brutality and the deep discord amongst organizers in the movement for Black liberation. But the truth is, all of those realities exist outside of the American context as well. My US passport would only temporarily shield me from the anti-black violence I experience at home. While outside of my lush airbnb, in the corners of whatever island I found myself on, there would undoubtedly be Black people who are suffering. Who have no say in foreign tourists bringing diseases to their country; and who could not escape even if they wanted to.
“I don’t think we can afford to be flippant about being in touch with reality. Escapism is very tempting, but reality deserves your attention, too. It’s not fair to yourself or others to be disengaged, long term. Truth is dire. We need the truth, terribly.” — Cynthia Francillon on Twitter.
The realization of how my own escapism could contribute to the perpetuation of a global pandemic was sobering. Grenada was no longer an option, so I forced myself to go beneath the surface of the “I don’t wanna be in this damn country right now. I just need to get away” mentality I had found myself in. What I found beneath my travel urges was exhaustion and isolation. I needed renewal and healing after a year of actively trying to survive a pandemic and fighting against state violence. While it would’ve been lots of fun, lounging on a foreign beach & sipping cocktails surrounded by strangers, was a quick fix. What I really yearned for was the opportunity to rest and be held in community.
“Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.” — Zora Neale Hurston
So I decided to return to the village(s) that raised me. And in that decision, I’ve realized there is much to be learned about resilience and community building through the lived experiences of the southern Black folk I come from. Embedded in dozens of photos and albums nestled in my grandma’s home are the wisdoms that kept our family safe in the midst of Jim Crow. The morning glory flowers along the NC highway hold the spirit of resistance used by rootworkers during slavery. Abundant meals made with okra and rice in the Gullah islands of South Carolina hold the remembrance of our African heritage. During this journey, I hope to find grounding through the healing truths of this land. To listen to the stories it holds and those of my elders. I intend to learn and share through this blog about the ways we’ve been nourished and held each other throughout the worst of circumstances. I invite all Black people who come across this post to join me on this journey as I explore my lineage in hopes that it may encourage you to examine the healing truths in your own.
*This post was initially published on my former blog “Morning Glory Stories: Black Southern Resistance & History in the Carolinas” on July 18, 2021.