When I heard that the African Burial Ground National Monument in Lower Manhattan would be opening to the public at the onset of Columbus Day weekend, I immediately felt it was an important historical event not to be missed. Unfortunately, the details of the event were not well publicized, so I did miss the dedication ceremony featuring Maya Angelou, although I did catch a glimpse of Sidney Poitier leaving the memorial.

Sixteen years ago, construction workers doing foundation work for a federal building unearthed the remains of thousands of Africans, some free, but mostly slaves. This discovery was revealed to be part of a 6.6-acre grave site known as the Negro Burial Ground, where an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 African men, women and children were interred during the 17th and 18th centuries. Just blocks from City Hall and other federal buildings, the burial ground was forgotten as the city sprung streets, sidewalks and skyscrapers over the remains.

So finally, this new National Monument on Duane Street between Broadway and African Burial Ground Way is the first and only U.S. National Monument in honor of the struggles of Africans forcefully brought here and subjected to the injustices of slavery, segregation and discrimination. Designed by Rodney Leon, the memorial is an Ancestral Libation Chamber, representing the crossroads of birth, life and death.

As I approached the memorial, people were lined up around the block waiting to get a first glimpse. I waited over an hour with people of all ages and races as we inched forward in the shadows of skyscrapers, many built with slave labor, on an especially warm October day.

On the side of the entrance to the chamber, seven grassy mounds hold the reburied remains of 419 skeletons (about half under the age of 12) removed from the construction site between 1991 and 1992 for anthropological study at Howard University. Passing these grave markers, I felt somber and uneasy. But as I walked though the angled granite walls leading to the sunken court where symbols and maps tell stories of horror, pride and faith, a peaceful feeling washed over me. Flags of all nations waved over the site, and the circular construction of the chamber provided an opportunity for pause and reflection.

I won’t say how I felt within the chamber – that’s personal – and I think it’s fair to say that every visitor will walk away with a different emotional response. As I left the memorial, an elderly woman was praying as she looked over the circle. It was an appropriate, dignified scene, and I walked away feeling hopeful that future generations will learn from the past.