It was just like any other day...

Remembering. 2 weeks. Just two weeks to go…

Then I’ll be boarding that plane for the duration of twenty-four whole hours.

I had buried myself in work and school for the past seven months, struggling to create art because I wasn’t happy. My mentor passed away from cancer, I lost a really good friend in a car accident, and I left my partner of three years. So many emotions and thoughts floating inside of me. So much transformation occurring in my life so suddenly that I felt like I didn’t even know myself anymore. So I bought myself a plane ticket and I decided to travel with some friends to Johannesburg for two weeks to volunteer at a local grade school in Soweto. The first month I completely ignored the itenary I didn’t want to bare the excitement in totality. But as the weeks lessened I began to process the reality of this trip and how my life was about to change forever. It was just one more day before AFRICA and I was waiting on the 910 bus headed to work just like any other thursday evening.I was feeling good because I made it to class on time (very rare) and I made it to the train for work on time (also very rare). I’m listening to the Robert Glasper station and this song comes on called “All I do” by Robert Glasper featuring S.I.R, Bridget Kelly and SongBird. I’m riding the 910 to work like any other day but tears begin falling continuously from my eyes because this ride was different. A serenade of “It’s all for you”... “if it’s all I do” comes pouring into my ears. My thoughts began to synchronize with the music… “if it's all I do” I’m going to heal myself, and “if it’s all I do” I’ll learn to love myself, I’ll honor myself and my ancestors...MY ANCESTORS! I kept the song on repeat and I couldn’t stop the feelings washing over me. I visualized my ancestor’s jumping from boats into unknown oceans, running in thick southern woods, watching their families sold, beaten and tortured. I could see images of black bodies hanging from southern trees. I visualized my grandmother raising my mother in jim crow southern poverty,it hurt but I kept drawing. “If it’s all I do” I”ll shed the generational curses and “If it’s all I do”...Mama I’m going to celebrate you, love you, and protect you because I know what you‘ve been through. The song kept playing along now with the visualization of my mother raising me and my four sisters by herself in a 2 bedroom back house in Compton. One day before this little yellow, bow-legged, southern girl who grew up in every hood in Los, Angeles got on that plane and went back home to the motherland. Woah. Surreal isn’t strong enough of a word. I need something deeper to describe how this felt spiritually. The idea that my feet, these feet would touch the land my ancestors fought so very hard to get back too. Nothing short of the highest gratitude rested in my heart, honor drew tears from my eyes and I refused to wipe them. I remember the first time I met Robert Glasper. We were in the Venice speakeasy he had just played the crowd’s head off alongside Terrace Martin. He came and sat at the table next to me. I remember trembling in silence trying to find words to express my love for his incredible music. Right as he finished his drink I turned swift and awkwardly towards him and mumbled in my choir mouse voice “Excuse me Mr.Glasper I just wanted to tell you Black Radio changed my life” (so dramatic but not really). He thanked me just like any regular gentlemen would and proceeded back to the stage to melt more faces in the crowd. The irony of it all, I wish I could’ve sat next to Mr. Glasper on that train I am almost certain he would have understood exactly what I felt. The next day boarded that plane singing to myself… “if it's all I doooooo”.