Lessons I Learned in Ghana (and How I’m Carrying Them Forward)

I went to Ghana for Detty December, and after the year I had in 2025, I knew it was going to be exactly what I needed.

I traveled with Jet Black Travel, and honestly, I would highly recommend going to Ghana with a group or with someone who is native to the land. It makes a huge difference when it comes to navigating the country, understanding the culture, and moving with intention instead of confusion. You’re able to maneuver as needed, and you don’t feel like you’re just passing through—you feel guided.

When people hear “Detty December,” they usually think of parties, late nights, and being outside until 8 a.m. And yes, we absolutely did that. But a big portion of our trip was rooted in history—African history, Ghanaian history, and the spirituality of our ancestors. From visiting the Door of No Return, to the Nkyenkyen Museum, to Ada Beach, we spent a lot of time leaning into places that felt sacred, not just fun. We experienced parts of Ghana that felt like hidden gems, not the overly commercialized version people often see online.

Since coming back, I’ve been sitting with that experience and really integrating it throughout January. It’s left me feeling grounded, reflective, and honestly excited for the year ahead.

From The Minority To The Majority

One of the biggest shifts I felt was moving from America—where I’m constantly reminded that I’m the minority—to a place where I was part of the majority. That alone did something to my nervous system. Even something as simple as watching YouTube stood out to me. When ads came on, I kept noticing how consistently we were represented. Black people. Talking to each other. In a language we understand. In America, you’re so used to seeing white people centered in advertisements that it almost feels invisible—until it isn’t.

In Ghana, that dynamic was completely reversed. I honestly don’t think I saw other races in advertisements at all. And as someone who works in advertising, that really stopped me in my tracks. It made me realize how deeply representation shapes what we consider “normal,” and how much of our reality in America is filtered through someone else’s lens.

Going With The Flow

Another lesson that stayed with me is that going with the flow is actually one of my greatest strengths. Not everything needs to be controlled to be meaningful.

Travel will always come with changes. Plans shift. Timelines stretch. Things take longer than expected—especially when you’re navigating dirt roads or unfamiliar terrain. You really have to control what you can and release what you can’t. There’s nothing worse than traveling with someone who needs everything to be exact or insists that things go their way at all times. That kind of rigidity creates stress where there doesn’t need to be any.

On this trip, I noticed how naturally flexible I was. I wasn’t frustrated by delays. I wasn’t anxious about unpredictability. I leaned into it. And that’s something I’ve been reflecting on since—how much ease I allowed in my life when I stopped trying to force outcomes and instead respond to what’s actually happening.

Community Isn’t Symbolic Here, It’s Practiced.

Community in Ghana also showed me something important. There, community isn’t symbolic—it’s practiced. Family extends beyond the home, and everyone plays a role. You don’t just belong to yourself; you belong to something larger.

In America, community often feels more singular than plural. It’s cultivated, yes—but usually within smaller, more isolated circles. In Ghana, just being there, you felt woven into something collective. It wasn’t performative. It was lived.

African Spirituality

Visiting the Nkyinkyim Museum and engaging with African spirituality made me realize how much of my curiosity about spirituality was innate. It wasn’t something I was “seeking” as much as something I was remembering. Growing up in America, Christianity teaches you to avoid what our ancestors practiced—to see it as dangerous or forbidden. But in doing that, so much power was stripped away from us.

Being in Ghana helped me see that more clearly.

New Chapters Require More Of You

Another thing that stayed with me is this: new chapters require more of you. Every transition demands expansion. It’s important to flow with the currents of life rather than resist them. Growth doesn’t ask for perfection—it asks for presence, adaptability, and honesty about what season you’re in.

Rest Is Part Of The Work

Another major lesson Ghana gave me was this: rest is part of the work.

In 2025, I was on go. Truly. Every other week I was somewhere. Doing something. Moving. Creating. Producing. My spirit honestly could not sit still. I didn’t even realize how tired I was because I had normalized being in motion.

By the time I got to Ghana, I was burnt out from the year. Even though we had a pretty jam-packed schedule, there was one day where I was finally able to rest. Really rest. When my friends came back and saw me, one of them said, “You look well-rested.”

And that comment stayed with me.

I’ve heard “you’re doing amazing,” “you’re successful,” “I’m proud of you” so many times. But you look well-rested hit differently. That’s the compliment I want to hear over and over again. I don’t want to look rushed. I don’t want to feel rushed. I want to look, feel, and actually be well-rested.

Learn From Nature

Nature doesn’t rush. So why do we?

In America, hustle culture teaches us to sprint toward the finish line, but no one ever talks about what happens once you get there. There’s always another milestone. Another goal. Another thing to chase. Ghana reminded me how important it is to pause, to reflect, and to allow yourself to move through the seasons of your life instead of forcing momentum just to feel productive. There’s a difference between growth and urgency. Learning how to move with the currents of your life matters.

Another thing that really stood out to me is this: art is not a luxury. It’s a way of life.

Art was everywhere. Not framed and isolated, but woven into everyday life. In clothing. On the streets. In architecture. Presented both casually and at scales of grandeur. Life itself felt artistic. And it reminded me that we are art, too. Creation isn’t something reserved for artists or creatives by title — it’s something we all carry. We need to create more. Not for validation, but because expression is part of being human.

The Door Of Return

Visiting the Door of Return was another moment that stayed with me deeply.

We went to the castle where the Door of No Return once stood — now called the Door of Return — and it was overwhelming in the best and hardest way. I learned so much about slavery that simply isn’t taught in American history books. If you’re visiting Ghana for the first time, I truly believe this is a must-see. It contextualizes so much.

Lead By Example

While we were inside one of the dungeons, a group of African students walked by and looked up at us. That’s when I snapped the photo. They were almost studying us. And in that moment, it hit me: the next generation is watching us.

That realization stayed with me. It’s imperative that we lead by example — in how we live, how we heal, how we treat each other, and how we move through the world.

“No New Friends” Is a Scam

I also made new friends on this trip, which reaffirmed something I’ve always believed: “no new friends” is an ideology I never subscribed to. Closed hearts can’t receive. Being open matters. Connection matters. You never know who you’ll meet when you allow yourself to be present.

You Don’t Need Permission

One thing Ghana reinforced for me is that you don’t need permission to pause.
You don’t need permission to pivot.
And you don’t need permission to dream.

All of those things are free. The responsibility is simply to exercise them wisely.

And finally, visiting Ghana felt like returning home.

Not in a literal sense, but in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve felt it. There was a familiarity. A grounding. A sense of belonging that didn’t require explanation. I can’t wait to go back. And I already know that the next time I do, I’ll arrive differently — more rested, more open, and more intentional.