Reflections From The Road: Road-Tripping While Black

The sound of the trunk latching closed signaled the start of yet another adventure. All of our bags had been carefully arranged for the long drive south. I opened the driver’s side door, but before taking my seat, I briefly looked up at the sky and watched a few straggling clouds pass by. It was late in the evening; the sun had already begun hiding its face behind the horizon. For me, this was the best time to get down the road.

The journey to Texas was, without a doubt, a long one. The trip would take us through Knoxville, Nashville, Memphis, Little Rock, and Dallas before reaching our final destination of Austin, Texas. Could we have flown? Sure. But I lobbied to drive, as I wanted to see parts of the country I’d never seen before.

I meticulously checked each highway and byway the night before in bed. I’m a sucker for great scenery, so I planed the route accordingly. Road trips are always an experience, especially when it’s with the people you love.

We understood we’d be traveling through historically tense areas. To put it bluntly, we were traveling through the underbelly of America: the same parts of America that thrived off of the oppression of my ancestors. Though we live in the twenty-first century, some of the same toxic ideas still exist and they were on full display. Throughout Tennessee, we saw huge confederate flags flying high from the highway. There were folks with confederate flag vanity plates on their car as well. You could see the pride in their eyes when we passed by.

As we continued our journey through Nashville, on I-65, there hidden in the trees, was a statue of a former Ku Klux Klan leader. I find it disgusting that America celebrates these kind people and what they stood for. I always tried to make sure we were full of fuel to avoid stopping in many of the small towns in that region. It didn’t matter how well I planned, when the car needed fuel, it needed fuel.

I thought of what the ancestors endured traveling these same routes. The Negro Motorist Green-Book, or commonly known as, The Green-Book, was a guide that helped Black folks navigate the American roadways during segregation. I still feel its relevance today. We passed through towns that were historically known as Sundown towns. The GPS led us through dark back roads, to avoid traffic, where the homes proudly displayed their confederate and American flags. It wouldn’t be a great place to break down, that’s for sure.

Nearing empty, we made one last stop before getting back on the highway. Being that I’m a Black man covered in tattoos while sporting a headband with a full beard, I’m sure I stuck out like a sore thumb, and quite frankly, I didn’t care.

Thankfully, we were at the point where we could get back on Route 40: a major highway. After 23 hours and some change, we made it to Austin, Texas, which is an absolutely beautiful city. When we finally reached our destination, I reflected on the drive. I was tired but thankful we arrived safely. I was glad to be able to see some of those parts of America, although many of the places, I wouldn’t stay.

Being ever so conscious of our surroundings is a part of the Black American experience. Always being hyper-aware of the gas tank in relation to the nearby towns, is a part of the Black American experience. Expecting odd looks and stares in America’s small towns is a part of the American Black experience. Constantly looking in the rearview mirror to make sure the police aren’t tailing you is a part of the Black American experience. Hoping to never break down in certain areas out of fear that you’d be lynched or mobbed, is yet again, a part of the Black American experience. This is road-tripping while Black in America.