Liosuelo

It took me a while to accept it, but there is a strong possibility that I may never live in Tulsa again. Once I realized that, I knew I needed to write a little ode to the city and everything it represented in my life.

When Angaza and I decided to return to the United States after more than six years abroad, we landed on Tulsa. We wanted to live somewhere that felt like a small town but still had big-city amenities. More than anything, we wanted a place where we could build community in person.

For years, I had been building community online by hosting events for women who had left their countries of birth. That was amazing, but I also longed for a place where I could get lattes with the girls on Saturdays, take Pilates on Thursdays, and walk to a coworking space. I wanted a quintessential small American city that felt comfortable and modern, but that could also give us the space to heal from some of the things we needed to heal from.

We heard about the Tulsa Remote program through a colleague of Angaza’s. We both applied, and we both got in, which was incredible.

This is not the post to talk about everything Tulsa Remote did not give us. Because we did leave with many disappointments. But instead to be grateful that Tulsa Remote gave me Tulsa.

Thank you, Tulsa, for teaching me so much about our illustrious and resilient Black history in this country.

Tulsa has such a deep and complicated history. Living there allowed me to tap into the brilliance of African American history in the United States and to understand, in an even deeper way, how much Black people have accomplished despite concerted efforts to suppress and oppress them.

At times, walking through Downtown Tulsa in what once was a fully sufficient prosperous all Black town called Greenwood was painful. I would see small plaques marking the remnants of Black Wall Street business destroyed in the 1921 massacre.

Every day I felt grief when I walked over the tiny memorials commemorating what once stretched acres of Greenwood, with its own schools, businesses, hospitals, and even an airport. A self-contained community away from the racism of the era. Knowing that it was destroyed because of racism, jealousy, and hatred was difficult to sit with.

But being a transplant also allowed me to see some of what Tulsa is trying to build now. Through Tulsa Remote, I met an incredibly diverse group of people from across the country and around the world. They had traveled, lived full lives, and brought so many different experiences and perspectives with them.

I came to Tulsa hoping to find a certain kind of community and connection. Honestly, I did not find it in the way I had imagined. I think Tulsa has deep wounds that still need to be healed, and at times, I felt as though I had been dropped directly into the middle of them. It was difficult to fully integrate myself into the city.

But not finding exactly what I expected did not mean Tulsa gave me nothing.

Tulsa still gave me so much!

Thank you, Tulsa, for giving me space.

Tulsa gave me empty, empty, empty streets. And I mean that in the best way.

Most days, I walked close to 20,000 steps, often from downtown Tulsa to Midtown or all the way to the Gathering Place. There is an astronomical amount of money being poured into parts of the city, and you can feel it in the buildings, amenities, and reconstruction happening throughout Tulsa.

At the same time, the Arts District in downtown Tulsa, where I lived, could feel incredibly empty. There were not many people living or walking around. I lived near the OSU campus and would walk through it regularly. Most of the time, I felt like I had the entire city to myself. I was often the only person walking, especially during the hours I liked to go out.

There was something strangely beautiful about that solitude. The city gave me room to think, move, breathe, and be alone.

Thank you, Tulsa, for giving me a place to write.

Tulsa gave me a coworking space within walking distance of my apartment. I became friends with the people who worked there, and I was able to enjoy this beautifully redesigned, modern space that was often nearly empty.

Many days, it felt like it was just me, Angaza, and downtown Tulsa.

That coworking space became one of the places where I wrote several of my manuscripts.

When Angaza returned to New York before I did, Tulsa also gave me a period of solitude. I had time to be by myself, to write, to reflect, and to prepare for whatever was coming next.

Thank you, Tulsa, for helping me return to my body.

Tulsa helped spark my health journey. I lost 20 pounds while I was there, but it was about more than the weight. I tried Megaformer Pilates for the first time, which became a small but meaningful kickstart toward reconnecting with my body.

We walked everywhere because we did not have a car. Angaza picked up road cycling and fully started dressing the part. I also bought my first clip in road bike. Movement became a natural part of our lives.

We also went to so many local events and found little ways to experience the city around us.

And because we did not have a car, we discovered the true luxury of American grocery delivery. We relied completely on Walmart and Whole Foods deliveries, and honestly, it was amazing. Also Trader Joes snacks! I rediscovered them. I hadn’t shopped in one since 2015. 

Somewhere along the way, I also began to heal my relationship with the internet. After spending so many years building community online, Tulsa gave me enough space to reconsider how I wanted the internet to fit into my actual life.

Thank you, Tulsa, for always giving me somewhere to go.

I was constantly amazed by the number and variety of events happening throughout the city. I went to Oktoberfest, saw Mya (R&B singer) perform live, attended a Black motorcycle rally and Cowboy Rodeo, and experienced a plethora of art festivals, Lit Fests, a Pride film festival, food festivals, jazz nights, First Fridays, Gradient events, Tulsa Tough, and dozens of other gatherings.

For a city its size, Tulsa offers an incredible amount of programming, much of it free, along with so many opportunities to volunteer and participate. In that sense, Tulsa might even rival New York City. Because Tulsa is smaller, those events often felt more accessible and personal. We saw the amazing performer Tobe Nwigwe perform up close during a festival commemorating the 104th anniversary of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre. There was always a reason to leave the apartment. 

Thank you, Tulsa, for our home on North Boston Avenue and Archer.

Our apartment became a place where we could truly rest. We had a balcony where we could watch the sunset (and people watch the parking lot hotel guests lol)the biggest kitchen we had ever had, and enough space to meal prep and try new recipes side by side. It was also where I began my sourdough journey.

After years of constant travel, discomfort, and never feeling fully settled, I was able to live with a sense of luxury and ease. We spent so many days curled up on our massive L-shaped sofa, talking for hours or watching television together. 

For the first time in a long time, everything we owned was in one place. We did not have a storage unit. We were not living out of suitcases or splitting our lives between different locations. We had a home.

I was able to host my baby cousin and reconnect. 

I had sourdough artisan pizza for the first time and I am obsessed. LOFI you made my gut health happy. ALSO Country Bird Bakery – now that I left Tulsa and have been on the hunt for sourdough goods. I realize how SPECIAL this bakery is. The fact that every baked good is sourdough base and delicious is why she won the James Beard Award. I will forever miss my favorite Twice Baked Pecan Croissaint!!

I became a plant mom. I nurtured seedlings to full growth, some died but most thrived. All were either given to me from a wonderful woman called Gene we met at Home Depot (she had a nursery in her home) or gifted or found. Some are still with me in NYC. I stuffed them in my carryon luggage.

Also! Our Public Library Systems. SO grateful for the Tulsa Country Library Downtown – it was a haven for me when I ran out of places to walk, a pit stop for cool air during the summer months. I borrowed soooo many books, too! 

Thank you, Tulsa, for Magic City Books.

This may be what I miss most.

Working at Magic City Books was probably the best job I have ever had. I miss my coworkers every day, and I miss being surrounded by books in such a magical place.

Magic City reinvigorated my desire to do mission-driven work. It reminded me that I want to spend my time doing something I love, in a place that stands for something meaningful. I still hope that, somehow, I will have the opportunity to work with Magic City again in the future.

The chapter may have closed, but it does not feel entirely over.

Sometimes I can still envision us in Tulsa. I just do not know in what capacity. What I do know is that Tulsa was a deeply healing place for me. It became a launching pad for the next phase of my life, and it felt unlike anywhere else I had lived in the United States.

Tulsa still has things it needs to face, reckon with, and heal. I do not know whether all of that will happen. But despite everything, I was able to receive so much from my time there.

After living abroad for more than six years, moving to Tulsa sometimes felt like an extension of being abroad. At the same time, it gently reintroduced me to certain parts of American culture that had become foreign to me.

America feels very different from the country I left in 2019. Sometimes it feels like an entirely different place, and I do not always feel as though I fit into it. 

Tulsa became a stepping stone between those years abroad and this new chapter back on the East Coast.

So, thank you, Tulsa.

Thank you for the sunlight on my balcony and the plants I was able to grow.

Thank you for the quiet streets and the thousands of steps.

Thank you for the manuscripts, the coworking space, the local events, the Pilates classes, the grocery deliveries, and my first road bike.

Thank you for Magic City Books.

Thank you for giving me room to move, create, heal, and become more of myself.

I may never live in Tulsa again, but Tulsa will stay with me for the rest of my life.