Where do I come from?
Who do I come from?
Who am I?
Why am I?
These are some of the questions that haunt me as I grow up as a Black person in the U.S.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt this gaping hole in my gut. It’s the Ocean, that unbridgeable distance, that keeps me disconnected from my deepest self.
It’s the overwhelming, un-holdable fear that I can never know the stories of my direct ancestors. That I can’t know the generations of scars and strengths that make my life possible.
And in that fear, and grief, and desperation, I opened up Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. In return, Homegoing opened up the Door of Return for me.
Homegoing is a story of loss, legacy, more loss, healing, and the unbreakable bonds that connect us through space and time.
Reading Homegoing felt like unwrapping gifts that I didn’t know I needed: gratitude for my ancestors, whoever they were, humility, and trust in the truth that only stories can offer.
I didn’t even know that it was possible to tell the story of a single family, separated yet unified over seas and centuries, the way Gyasi does in this book.
This one possibility of a family not only blew my mind away to all of the beautiful possibilities of our pasts, but to all of our futures as well.
There’s so much that I could say about this book that I’m still figuring out after reading it months ago. What I know for sure for now though is that this is art that I will return to for a long time.
Shout out to my mom for recommending this book to me like five years ago. She ahead of the game.