The Crypts of My Discontent: A Journey Through the Legacy Museum

I walked into the Legacy Museum carrying a heavy architecture of anger.

My experience of living through the stories of atrocities and inhumanity—stories that are evidence-based, factual, and piled high—was fueled by a specific quest: to make white folks wrong enough. I had been shouting to the world, "Look what they’ve done to me and my people!" I wanted payback. I wanted a reversal of fortunes where those who caused the suffering felt the weight of it themselves. I lived in the "If onlys":

• If it wasn’t for XYZ, my life would be good. * If they all walked into the sea one day—taking that orange devil with them—then the world would finally work.

I knew it was "stinking thinking," but I was trying to get down to the nitty-gritty—way down to the crypts of my own discontent.

The Power of Being Listened To

That is what I brought with me to EJI. I admitted it to myself and shared it with my "Five."

And here is what happened: They got it. They gave me the space to share that raw, ugly anger with no loss of affinity or respect. For the first time, I experienced being listened to deeply. Because I was "listened," I was able to walk through the museum not just as a victim or an avenger, but as a witness.

The Space of "Empty and Meaningless"

As I moved through the images, the voices, the sculptures, and the rivers of history, something shifted. I reached a space of "empty."

I realized that I could be shown ten thousand more signs of the horrible things we as human beings have done to each other—or, I could just decide which restaurant I wanted to go to for lunch.

I got it. There is no inherent meaning in any of it. We did that. We, humankind, created those meanings. And once I realized that the past is inherently empty and meaningless, I reached a second realization: It is empty and meaningless that it is empty and meaningless.

The Possibility of Peace

At that point, I didn't need any more evidence. The vessel was finally empty.

I felt an immediate uplift—a lightness of being that I hadn't known was possible. By emptying out the need for more "proof" of wrongness, I was suddenly present to an openness. I found the possibility of:

• Peace

• Freedom

• Creativity

I walked in seeking a reckoning; I walked out changed. I didn't just see the history—I was set free from the version of it that was keeping me in the crypts.

Now, may I please go and have lunch?