My love for travel didn’t begin with a passport full of stamps. It began in the backseat of my parents’ car, staring out at highways that stretched farther than my imagination. I didn’t grow up wealthy, and my family wasn’t hopping continents, but they did make sure we explored something new every year. Road trips across the U.S., cruises to the Caribbean, and summers spent wandering all-inclusives in Mexico. Those early experiences cracked open a window to a world that felt big, beautiful, and full of possibility.

Those childhood trips planted a seed. As an adult, my travel style looks different from my parents’, but I’ll always be grateful for the foundation they gave me. They showed me that adventure didn’t have to be extravagant to be meaningful; it just had to be intentional.

Growing up Black in America means learning early that the world isn’t always built with you in mind. Resources, access, and representation are often withheld or gatekept. But travel taught me that I deserved to take up space. Not just in my own community, but anywhere my feet could land. Every boarding pass became an act of self-affirmation. Every trip, a quiet rebellion against the idea that exploration wasn’t meant for people like me.

I’m not rich. I don’t come from privilege. But I do come from a lineage of women who moved through the world with undeniable purpose.

My wanderlust and love for community are gifts passed down from both Lucy and Lena. These women—my grandmothers—were bridges long before I knew I wanted to be one. They connected people, created spaces where folks felt seen, and lived lives that proved you could be both grounded and expansive at the same time. Their legacy is the compass I carry with me in every country I visit and every story I tell.

Travel isn’t just something I do for myself. It’s something I want to share. I want to be a guide, a connector, a reminder to my community that the world is just as accessible to us as it is to anyone else. If I can be that bridge, if my experiences can open a door for someone who once felt travel was “not for them” then every mile has meaning.

This space is my love letter to exploration, to curiosity, to my people, and to the women who raised me. Lucy and Lena taught me that living boldly and loving deeply aren’t opposing forces but they’re the very essence of a life well lived.

And I plan to honor them with every step I take across this world.