Expanding History

And high-falootin' fellowships

Baby Girl loves a good Bhangra.

I am not a terribly nostalgic person. I don’t do touchy-feely sharing very well (at all), abhor ice breakers and Toya calls me “wooosh” because I have an ability to quietly slip out of any room that has more than five people in it. Especially if I was the one who invited said people into the room.

I guess I’m your classic extroverted introvert. I like working with, learning from, being near people. But, I also like crawling into my own head and just getting away.

So, why does this matter? Well, remember when I interviewed for that “high-falootin’-people-of-a-certain-influence fellowship” a few months back? And, when they asked how I had overcome a challenge in life I got cranky and replied with, “You know, I don’t like that question.”

Well, much to my surprise, I got that-there high-falootin’ Aspen Institute/ADL Civil Society Fellowship. It is a great group of people. From conservative journalists to foster care advocates to progressive thinkers to, in a pretty impressive Cranky Dad callback, the CEO of Ohio Valley Wrestling (I said it before, and I’ll say it again, watch “Wrestlers” on Netflix), these are folks I am really looking forward to spending more time with.

But, when I showed Toya the agenda for our first week, packed with visits, discussions and “reflections” from 8:00 AM to 9:00 PM in Montgomery, Alabama, she laughed and said, “You won’t make it two days.”

I won’t lie. It was a lot. But it was a lot in ways I didn’t expect.

See, back in March of 2019, the Board and Senior Staff of the National Immigration Forum (which I led for a bit) traveled to Montgomery to visit the Equal Justice Initiative’s Legacy Museum and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. It was quite a trip. The Museum’s vivid description of the horrific arc from slavery to mass incarceration left many of us questioning our assumptions. And, the haunting symbolism of the Memorial took away our collective breath.

In the end, the experience radically centered the organization. We affirmed a strategic plan for the organization, doubling down on the need to build a broader coalition supporting immigration reform, and left with a greater sense of how our work fit into society.

Back then, I read the history, took in the Memorial, at arms length. Not to say that I don’t remember moments of that trip and what we saw and heard quite vividly. But it was different.

See, 2019 was the BBG (Before Baby Girl) times. Which means it was also the Before Toya Gavin times. Now, with these amazing women in my life - and everything they represent - Montgomery was different. Very different.

Honestly, I still struggle to find the words to describe the experience. For one, see above, I’m not so good at sharing. But, more importantly, the experience and what I learned through a different set of life experiences is not about me.

Because, what hasn’t changed since 2019 is that what I saw and heard in Montgomery is not my history. Nor is it my story. But, it is Toya’s history, it is Anisa’s history, and it is part of their story. So, it is our story.

Yes, more than ever, it is my responsibility to do everything I can to understand African-American history, to make sure Anisa appreciates the depth and breadth of what her ancestors endured. Along the way, as a family, our histories will expand through what we have built.

Look, I am not the first person in the world to be in a mixed race marriage where dinner table conversations range from Black women’s hair to the health benefits of tumeric.

So, on Thanksgiving Day 2023, celebrating Baby Girl’s 11 months, I am incredibly thankful for the way my history, my story, has expanded through my family’s story.