If you’ve ever visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington D.C., you quickly recognize that the way you navigate the museum itself mirrors the experience and history of being Black in America. I went for the first and only time in March 2020, and without my knowing, it would be the last thing I’d do before lockdown.
You first enter the exhibit by boarding an elevator, cramped too close for comfort, then descend slowly away from the natural light of the lobby. Down, down, down it creeps – in time and darkness – toward the story of the slave trade that ultimately brought my ancestors here.
