Emmancipation

I recently visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture again. Nearly a week later, I’m still processing the experience.

A few days afterward, while driving with my children, Bob Marley & The Wailers’ Redemption Song came on. Music is one of the ways I intentionally pass culture, history, and identity on to my children.

Released in 1980, Redemption Song reflects on the transatlantic slave trade, oppression, and the enduring pursuit of freedom. As it played, my mind immediately returned to exhibits where I had lingered the longest.

“Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery

. None but ourselves can free our minds…”

I couldn’t help but picture the hundreds of people chained together in the belly of a slave ship. I found myself wondering about their minds.

How did they preserve hope when their bodies were captive? Did they find moments of psychological freedom despite unimaginable physical bondage? Did they sing? Pray? Tell stories? Remember home? Hold onto one another?

Then another lyric caught my attention.

“Won’t you help to sing these songs of freedom?”

Freedom was never meant to be a solo journey.

Who joins you on yours?

Throughout life, many of our relationships are assigned to us—our families, classmates, coworkers, even communities. But as adults, we gain increasing freedom to choose who walks beside us. We choose the people who remind us of who we are when life tries to convince us otherwise. We choose the people who help us keep singing.

And then comes the refrain:

“These songs of freedom… ’cause all I ever have, redemption songs.”

It left me reflecting on the many forms of freedom.

What has helped free you from tangible and intangible chains?

I think about the moments in my own life when I felt physically or emotionally powerless. Sometimes all I could do was sing, repeat affirmations, recall Scripture, regulate my breathing, or simply trust that the moment would pass.

As a trauma therapist, I’m continually reminded that freedom isn’t always the absence of hardship. Sometimes it begins with reclaiming our minds, reconnecting with our bodies, and remembering that we were never meant to carry our burdens alone.

This is the first reflection in a series inspired by my visit to the museum. I hope you’ll join me on the journey.

• What has been one of your own “redemption songs”?