The George Floyd trial was a tipping point for me. After four years of unleashed racism, I instantly knew what my first trip, outside the isolated bubble of Covid, would have to be. I'd had plenty of time to process what I'd been witnessing from afar. The experiences weren't mine, but had touched me deeply. I knew I needed to dive into history, to explore and better understand how we had gotten to this place. I needed to come face to face with truth, to stare into others' pain without looking away. I needed to fill in the missing pages of the textbooks from my childhood. Over the years, I'd learned some of what I hadn't been taught, but there was still so much I didn't know. I needed to immerse myself in the details, to experience the hammering repetition of a story I'd never been fully or truthfully told. As best as I could, I travelled back in time in our little RV and the physical journey began in Selma.