Like Kerouac, I am a sucker for the mad and the deviant. However, I wondered in college when I first read the novel and now, as I travel through Florida, who these road trips were meant for. In 1957, the year that Kerouac’s book was published, Jim Crow laws, defacto racial segregation, were still the law of the land in the United States. Kerouac and his literary comrades were trying to challenge the status quo. However, given the little they did to challenge a system that worked in their favor directly, their counterculture felt more rhetorical than real.
Great road trips come from the communities: the ensemble of characters instinctively reveals a place's complex and subversive sides. Weary of being enthusiastic, they disclose their criticism through irony or sarcasm. The human is vital because it shows they still want to entertain and engage with visitors.
Abortion access is the central theme driving my research trip, but the journey has become about so much more. I am learning about the relentless and negative impact on the lives of immigrants through Orwellian-style initiatives such as the Florida migrant “relocation” program, Bright Horizons. At a certain point, I cannot help but think that the cruel cultural war agenda by the Florida governor and senate is not only a distraction but a continuation of making life miserable for most Floridians. But I digress.
After a week of traveling through Florida by car, I have come to see the state's softer sides: the birds that reside here for refuge, the breathtaking oak trees that shelter a farmer’s Gainesville home, or sunbathing one morning in my friend’s backyard in Tallahassee. Driving through Florida has been more challenging than I thought, primarily because of the long stretches where I have to remain alert and laconic on the flat open road.
