A couple of years ago, I stepped on a tiny plane, landed at a tiny airport, and took on a fellowship at @vacenterforthecreativearts. I didn’t know why a sense to venture to rural Virginia came to me until I spent nights in my room, eyes burning for those who once toiled the valleys & hills of Virginia until they were marched to Kentucky, those who I share DNA. The campus is located in a former plantation.

For days, I grappled with a sense of loss. I tugged air and tried to catch hold of my ancestors on each breeze. I stared baffled as white cohorts swam in a lake where remnants of the enslaved may still rest at its bottom. I stood on the burial grounds of those who were enslaved and wondered if the ones beneath my feet were a part of me.

On those winding roads of the former plantation, I asked, why am I here?