Imagine yourself suspended on a rope bridge above the African rainforest canopy, loose boards and frayed cables swaying beneath your feet, and yet trusting that you will not fall.

Today, as I stood on this swinging bridge at the Canopy Walk in Kakum National Park in Ghana, I looked behind me and saw a line of children: some from Brooklyn, New York, some formerly from the waters of Lake Volta and now free. Watching them, I thought about trust.

This walk wasn't easy – there were seven swaying bridges covering 330 meters, connected by the trunks of the tallest trees you can imagine. Each child watched me step out and then each one followed, trusting that they would not fall. And they didn't.

From tree to tree we climbed, high above the treetops. If you stopped to look around, the view was breathtaking. If you looked down, you would swoon with vertigo. Yet looking straight ahead, you could see others that went before you, and you knew it was possible for you to do it too.

We left the rainforest for the coast and Elmina Castle, infamous for its role in the transatlantic slave trade. This is where Africans, one thousand at a time, were kept in airless, hot dungeons before passing through the "Door of No Return" to work as slaves on American plantations.  Only the strongest survived.

Again, I silently watched this line of children, some from Brooklyn and some from Ghana, as they draped their arms over each other’s shoulders in solidarity. The descendants of American slaves and former modern-day slaves stood together within the walls of this haunted castle, and I thought about trust.

We asked a lot from them today – to hover above the rainforest, to endure the African heat, and then to confront not only our own collective, painful past, but the story of their own ancestry, as well. And I must say that I couldn't be more proud. They were reflective and serious and yet hopeful for the future.

They are trusting me – and trusting you – to pave the way for them as they grow and learn. They are trusting all of us to carry the torch for justice and create a free world.

After today, I trust them wholeheartedly. Some of them faced fears today, and overcame them. Some were sober and thoughtful. Some just reached out to a new brother from another continent and bonded in friendship.

We must trust them to become modern-day abolitionists in their own right: as leaders, writers, speakers and storytellers for the next generation.

They can only do it with our love and support, paving the way. Are you with me?

-Pam