Coming out: A story about faith, fear and future (Part 3 of 3)

Getting comfortable with the unknown is liberating. The key to thriving is slowing down enough today to envision a future, noticing how today's miracles potentiate tomorrows.

This is part 3 of 3 in this series and focuses on Futuring in Place.

After I had my first child twelve years ago, I was invited to join a group of strangers from all over the world in the mountains of Vermont for a leadership retreat. Honestly, I was going through an identity crisis, being a first-time momma with no close relatives nearby. I loved my little bundle of joy but needed a temporary change of scenery and opportunity to focus on me. I really did not know what I had signed up for though.

As I traveled to Stowe on the tiniest plane ever, I felt my hands beginning to sweat. My heartbeat sped up a bit, and it reminded me that I do not like small, tight spaces. These physiological responses were actually signaling something much deeper. It was time for me to start stepping out of the small, tight box, which had become the comfortable places and spaces where I typically hid myself out of the limelight. There were new places and spaces waiting on my arrival, and I had to get comfortable with being seen.

Coming Home Again

When I was young, I dreamed of living in a big city. It was something about the hustle of city life played out in some of my favorite childhood shows — think Blossom, Ghostwriters and later Living Single. I thought that whole interstate highway life was a vibe. As soon as I turned 18, I packed my little belongings and headed to Dallas, TX. This city made me grow up fast, especially my first year. I found myself going home for almost any occasion. “Mom, I'm coming home again,” I would say. The city was nice to visit, but I missed the people in my little ole country hometown.

I hung out in Texas for more than a decade with innumerable trips back home throughout those years. I think I figured out how to turn the 7-hour drive into 5 without getting a ticket. Life was not bad at all. Except one thing. I couldn't see my future family in Texas. Then, becoming a momma made me realize how much I needed to be closer to my extended family.

Home Sweet Home

Returning to my hometown after being gone for 13 years was quite interesting. Just months after returning, we were pregnant again and feeling the pressure of a growing family going through a major transition. First of all, my consulting business was not profitable in the region, so I took a full-time job nearly an hour away. Secondly, my partner's opportunity to advance in culinary arts ended due to a very limited job market. Finally, we had been gone for so long that we actually had no idea how difficult life had been for many of our friends and family. All of these things hit my family hard, and we had to make decisions that would shape the trajectory of our lives for the next decade.

We decided to care. We knew that we were in the right place but not sure what to do. I began working as a local journalist in addition to my full-time job and learned about the prevalance of heart disease in my community. To try to do something about this matter, my partner and I opened a small restaurant at a local airport. We used local produce and fresh ingredients, something hard to find in the region. We never fried anything and hosted healthy cooking demonstrations. People came from communities nearby to support us, and we secured catering contracts with schools and community organizations. Before we knew it, we had also launched an aviation catering line for small planes coming to the area. Home felt sweet again.

Ooh, Baby Baby!

As my pregnant progressed, I encountered some complications that required me to take bed rest. While I stayed away from formal work, I did still go to the restaurant from time to time to help out. Then one hot July afternoon as I was helping cleaning tables at the restaurant, my water broke. My husband drove me to the hospital, which was in a neighboring state. My doctor met me, and my second son made a safe and healthy arrival in no time.

With my second little guy around, I really just wanted to cuddle and play with the guys all day. However, the second semester of my masters degree was just a month away. I rested and soon got back into learning mode. This time, I had a lot more responsibilities to juggle including pumping and storing milk while I was away from my son. This was not an easy task because the university was not a baby friendly campus. There was no room to pump nor safe place to store milk. I actually had to write letters to get this institutionalized, and the process took over a year. When I noticed the room had been created, I took a picture to remind myself that my voice made a difference that would help future mommas.

For Here, Now and Later

We often speak up for things that we need in a particular place in a particular moment. However, our advocacy has the potential to create positive changes in the world much later and greater than what we imagine. I believe our courage and actions that speak truth to power are akin to seeds planted on good soil. They will eventually sprout up and produce an abundantly harvest if they stay rooted where they are planted. If we stay rooted, we, too, will embody the liberation we have labored for all of our lives right there in the place where we sowed our seeds.

I came home because I saw a future in this place called Mississippi. I saw a future where my children felt abundantly loved and safe. I saw my extended family and friends thriving. I saw people from all over the world visiting us for a glimpse at a truly hospitable and kind place where all are welcomed, celebrated, and offered a seat on the front porch.

I still see this future made possible through faith, hope, and love. I'm slowing down to witness it unfold. Faith is necessary to believe in our destined liberation in this place in spite of the recent decisions that seek to strip away dignity and humanity from Black people by removing our representation through maps. We shall not be moved. Hope is required so we may persist in our joy and efforts. Love is needed to heal us all so we can walk in the freedom and justice that is ours. I'm going to stay here, stay grounded in the place called Mississippi, in this American South because there is a future here that is worth it.