A Place Called East Texas

Today I had the privilege of driving to Tyler, TX with a dear friend of mine. We started our trek in Nacogdoches after deciding that Tyler would be the best place to spend the day at. On our way up to Tyler, our GPS navigation system took us through some interesting roads (not that there was any other choice). I realized as I was driving that the roads looked so much like Burlington and New England in general. East Texas is also known as the Piney Woods of Texas. It's beautiful! I never knew Texas could have such beautiful scenery filled with trees arching over the long curvy roads. As always, I joked about how certain movies were filmed in the area, such as "Step Mom". On top of the scenery the weather was beautiful. I just wished the leaves were turning red, yellow, or orange instead of brown. Needless to say, it was still a beautiful ride up.
After touring what Tyler had to offer, included stopping at their much larger mall, it was time to head back to Nac. This time, our GPS took us down a different road. This included many more curves and ups and downs, as well as a accident-causing items such as torn tires and even a fox trying to cross the road. We were driving south east so the sun was definitely in our favor. We were jammin' to country songs, and the day could not have been any better. However, a few thoughts crossed my mind, and not happy ones.
I wondered, where would we be if Texas would have stayed a part of Mexico. I wondered where the Choctaws, the Cherokee, the native people would be at if the Spanish or the French would not have seized the South, or even the English in the North. I wondered, where would the REAL beauty of East Texas be with out the colonization of its people, land, and wildlife. I joked how this is the beauty of nature that allowed for its people to survive and thrive before 'man kind' tore it apart.
I believe social justice is not all about progressing and moving forward, but about honoring and cherishing the past. It is about remembering and never forgetting. My friend pointed out how there are a few cities in East Texas who are proudly named after confederate soldiers, white oppression, and appropriation of one's culture. Cherokee, Texas. Rusk, Texas. White House, Texas. Douglas, Texas. Just to name a few. I think that is why part of me does not mind living in small towns. I am able to freely explore nature with out the interruption of refineries or large buildings. I am able to breathe in the smell of authenticity. I am able to imagine what life would be carefree, with out technology, and seeing with my eyes closed, listening with the wind whispering in my ear, being one with what I supposed to be. With who we were meant to be. With who we still can be. All while doing and working for social justice. East Texas and racism is like that itch you try to scratch but won't go away because you can't really pin point where its coming from. It is right in your face, but it is up to you to start the scratching, but you don't know where to begin.
So, since being here, I have tried to challenge myself in finding the source of that scratch so that I have a direction in where to begin my journey. I challenge you, where does your scratch begin? and how deep are you willing to go? East Texas is my place, but there is still another place in Texas called Deep East Texas. I have yet to tackle that area.