This past weekend, with several good friends in from out of town, I had the privelage of visiting the Freedom Center/Underground Railroad Museum. Sitting in my own backyard, a mere 5 minute drive from my house, sits one of the most beautiful and perplexing points of interest I’ve ever been to.

Built only a year or so ago, the building itself sits nestled in between the baseball and football stadiums. And seeing as how neither of our teams exactly rock your face off, I hope that the Freedom Center gains equal spotlight in the city. Physically, the building is incredible. It has an earthy, strong, well-worn look to it, but with very modern design. It’s unpretentious, majestic and powerful concurrently. For some of the recent architectural blunders that Cincinnati has pulled recently, they should be commended on the erection of this building.

The heart of this museum, the spirit of it’s contents, are what makes it truly magical. Having visited countless museums the world over, this is the only one to date that has a personality. The staff is passionate. The exhibits scream with life-affirming exhaultation. And all the while, the duality of it’s existence is plain.

See, the underground railroad existed because humans can be the most vial, disgusting animals alive. Yet even though man created slavery, man also created this network of hope and opportunity. So the museum is one constant juxtaposition of exploring the climate of slavery, as well as lifting up the heroes of the underground railroad. I was brought to tears more than a few times, in watching and reading the stories put forth by the museum.

Though admittedly, the exhibits are quite verbose (to read everything in the museum, you would easily need more than one day), somehow it is not overwhelming. Perhaps because the topic of slavery itself is so overwhelming, so heavy and almost impossible to wrap your head around. I certainly would like to revisit it again, to catch (what I’m sure is a ton) what I didn’t get a chance to read.

It almost seems pointless to write about this at all. If anyone has any ounce of humanity in them, any compassion or empathy, the $12 in admission is invaluable in what you gain from sharing in what the museum has to give.

I’ve never in my life been both so ashamed and so proud of my own humanity at the same time.