Goin' Down South

I can't say that my family has many "traditions", but the few traditions that we do - impacted my life in so many different ways that show up day to day. I didn't realize it on the surface, but these things are deeply instilled in me.

One of my favorite "traditions" was when the summer was coming around

and my mom would say,

"Pack your backs, we're goin' down South."

I remember our road trips always felt like a big deal. Leaving in the middle of the night to avoid traffic. My sister getting her license and helping split the drives. The binder of CD's - mom's rap and hip-hop paired with my dad's love of jazz and R&B. One of my most distinct memories,

buying a new (CLEAN) copy of Country Grammar by Nelly when we left it one year.

Before we get goin' into the story -

take a few minutes to tag along on one of my favorite type of 'down South trips,' our annual Moffatt Family Reunion.

July 2024's reunion was a special one that brought together the direct descendants of my grandfathers parents - one of twelve children. With each represented at this reunion, I spent the a Saturday with over 500 cousins.

Hop on the road with us - we're goin' back home to Rock Hill.

[TUF! home movie: Rock hill Road Trip]

Road to Rock Hill

For us growing up in Virginia, going down South really meant going back home.

Rock hill, South Carolina - with my grandmother's home of Chester neighboring close by. Going back to see the family my mother spent her summers growing up with as we visited every summer through the early 2000's. It was a brief stretch of time to return to a place of simplicity and stillness, because the summers were spent either talking on a packed porch or lively living room - always in the hot humid air.

Going down South meant reconnecting.

It was an opportunity we couldn't recognize. We were handed the blessing of learning our family history from THE sources that lived and witnessed it. It is not common for many, especially Black Americans, to be able to trace their families back to the late 1800's - with the family and plantation names that owned them too. We are blessed to not only know and learn our history, but to also use it to inspire the current and future generations of our family. Showcasing the talent and triumph, we are reconnecting to the avenues that our elders and ancestors navigated with love and passion.

I find so much joy hearing how much I am like my grandfather, "James Warren."

Or as the family says "JamesOne" due to the cadence and drawl that makes their accents that feel like a comforting hug. Finding out that I am "JamesOnes" granddaughter, they immediately follow with one question, "Well - do ya play?" And play I do - the guitar, drums, keys, and bass all by ear like my granddad, the self taught Minister of Music, too. It gives me pride to hear people say "you just like you're grandfather - You play music, you can hear music, you know? He can speak to you through music."

Coming down South means more than I could realize as a kid.

My parents would hold it over our heads as a punishment."

You get bad grades, act up, get in trouble - you're gonna get sent down South for the summer!" But now, I realize how much of a blessing it is to come down here to see the people who witness me grow up, are the characters in many stories of her childhood, have unheard stories of my grandfather, and respected my grandmother so dearly.

It's a pride and honor to hold the name that may not be worn publicly, but is in my blood. Our ways are instilled in me.

There's a beauty in the perseverance of one couple with 12 children creating so many generations - avenues and branches. There's a beauty in connection. I love coming back home - and going down South.

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[director's commentary]

this was originally an voice memo captured in July 2024. transcribed and revised for clarity, this message would hit heavier when the next change of seasons began. fall 2024 pushed my life to the limits. challenging moments were superseded each week - until I faced my most heartbreaking challenge yet.

watching my beloved grandmother, "my nana," start to slow down due to age and dementia. this trip back home for the family reunion showed my sister and I that we are the ones being prepared to take over the torch next, as we transition into a chapter of this family we knew would come - but could never be prepared for. aiding my grandmother in transitioning from an elder to an ancestor is a honor that I do not take lightly. to be trusted, as "her baby," to stand tall to uplift and support my family, to find gratitude grief - meant that I was ready for my next chapter of life too.

this trip back home was the budding point for an ongoing search of "finding myself."

after years of feeling confused, lost, and stuck -

I was called back home - called back to my roots.

It's a special kind of funny that we visited down South,

but where we stayed in was reminiscent of Nana's Brooklyn Apartment so much,

that we couldn't let it be left out of the home movie.

Seeing my family that weekend, turned the question of

"why I am the way I am"

into a reignited passion for understanding

"who I am."

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