For Black creatives like me, an $80 flight was more than travel -- it was access.
I've never considered myself "too good" to fly Spirit Airlines. Perpetuating elitist stereotypes about affordable transportation has never appealed to me.
As a Black millennial from the Midwest, the budget-friendly airline has served as an unlikely support system throughout my personal and professional life. Some of my earliest childhood memories involve my mother shuffling my cousins and me onto the plane every spring break as we traveled to Orlando as a reprieve from the frigid Detroit air.
It wasn't until my own foray into adulthood that I realized how crucial a budget airline would be to my budding career. As a creative, I've always been extraordinarily reliant upon Spirit for inexpensive travel. With it now defunct, I worry about what this means for the future of other Black creatives in an already-fickle industry where we often have to invest more and work harder just to afford the opportunities of our white counterparts. What happens when the little access we do have is stripped from us?
The examples of times I've resorted to an $80 round-trip flight to a gig that would propel my career are endless. When I was a graduate student studying public relations at Michigan State University with dreams of becoming an entertainment publicist, I was chosen to volunteer at the 2017 Super Bowl weekend in Houston. While my days of "doing it for the plot" were over, this was a side quest steeped in professional advancement that I simply could not pass up. But as a broke graduate student surviving on a bi-weekly stipend, anxiety began to creep in about how I'd actually get there. Spirit Airlines answered that question.
That weekend ended up being everything I thought it would be. I was able to fruitfully network while learning more about the makings of the massive undertaking that is the Super Bowl -- all while developing skills that help me to this day. If it hadn't been for that cheap flight that I found during the wee hours of the morning in my dorm room, it couldn't have happened.
The dissolution of Spirit Airlines symbolizes something bigger than just an American business going under; it's about one less vehicle for those who aren't privileged enough to get to live our best lives.
To be clear, I completely understand the reaction to Spirit's demise from people who've had less-than-stellar experiences with the airline. The cramped seats and abundance of sometimes nonsensical "extras" fees, coupled with often-delayed flights, would aggravate the most sanctified of us. But still, for Black creatives much like myself with a paucity of resources for our current reality and future aspirations, Spirit was a lifeline.
As a pop culture enthusiast, I particularly relished the era when City Girls, Saweetie and Cardi B were dominating the charts. At that time, I had my first big-boy job and my very first disposable income. Upon seeing these artists announced as part of that year's BET Experience, I sprinted to purchase tickets to the weekend-long event in Los Angeles, booked my round-trip ticket and a cute Airbnb in the area. And then, I got a life-changing email the night before I was scheduled to depart.
Weeks prior, I had secretly applied to be a seat-filler for the BET Awards at the end of BET Experience weekend. I never expected to get accepted, and frankly, it would have been far more cost-efficient if I hadn't. But I knew I had to change my flight to attend -- and I found a flight home on Spirit. And that night remains one of the most magical and transformative of my life.
Had I not had the chance to be among the many changemakers who've used their gifts to contribute to the bustling ecosystem of Black creativity, I don't know that I'd have the confidence to do the same. It moved me. A few months later, my first op-ed with Blavity News was published which launched my path in entertainment journalism.
The dissolution of Spirit Airlines symbolizes something bigger than just an American business going under; it's about one less vehicle for those who aren't privileged enough to get to live our best lives. Getting to fly into spaces that opened doors for me boosted my sense of belonging. It is invaluable and afforded opportunities to quite literally see myself in spaces I'd only dreamed of.
I can't help but think about the new wave of Black creatives who might be in the position I was in. I'm hoping they find a way, just like I did.