Legacy, Lift, and the Work Ahead

Honoring the Past to Strategize the Future.

This week, I traveled with a powerful group of changemakers of all ages from Albuquerque to Montgomery, Alabama. We came here not just for a strategy meeting, but for grounding. We're part of an organization dedicated to building capacity and elevating narratives that have long gone unheard or undervalued. And our Executive Director made a thoughtful call: before we start planning, let's start with history. Let's remember what we're standing on.

So, we began with the Legacy Sites.

The Legacy Museum was a profound experience unlike any other. It wasn't just a museum—it was a sacred space. Five hours flew by, and I still felt like I had barely scratched the surface. Each exhibit told the truth. Clearly. Unflinchingly. There was reverence in every detail. And walking through it with my daughter was an emotional journey that I'm still processing. To witness our history told with such depth and dignity, there are no easy words for that—only gratitude.

The next day, we visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, also known as the Lynching Memorial. The name doesn't soften the reality—and it shouldn't. That walk was heavy. Each steel monument carried the names of people who were stripped of their humanity by a system built on fear and control. And yet… I also felt immense pride. My people endured. They made way. They held fast to joy, to brilliance, to life. We are here because they were.

And then came the Freedom Monument Sculpture Park. We took a boat to get there. The air felt different. Still, the opening sculpture—the strength in that face—stopped me. The entire site was raw and precise. The railcars that once transported my ancestors in bondage. The dwellings. I felt like it was saying, 'See me.' Know me. Remember me. This is our history, our story, our legacy.

What this volunteer leadership group has shared here, what we've seen, held, cried over, talked through, and debated, will sustain our work far beyond this weekend. Our discussions and debates were intense and thought-provoking, covering a wide range of topics, from historical injustices to current social issues. It will fuel us for the long haul because our work is not abstract; it is tangible. It's personal. It's lived. It's ancestral.

As we now turn to planning, the stakes feel even more real. We don't have the luxury of vague goals or generic strategies. We're building toward liberation. Toward visibility. Toward systems that don't just acknowledge communities—but are shaped with them, for them. Our work is crucial, it's inspiring, and it's worth every effort.

So, for my fellow practitioners:

• What keeps you steady when the world keeps shifting?

• When did you last feel connected to the reason you started?

• What's one thing you don't want to lose sight of, no matter how busy it gets?

This trip has reminded me that this is the work we should honor. Strategy that listens to the past and present. That aligns with truth. That isn't afraid to feel as well as function. Because when strategy meets soul, movements happen.