Whitman, Alabama refuses simple categorization.

It’s part documentary, part literature, part civic ritual. Blending journalism, poetry, and art, Whitman, Alabama offers a portrait of America built one encounter at a time. In it, 21st-century Alabamians voice lines from Walt Whitman’s epic American poem Song of Myself. The words of a Northern poet enmesh with Southern lives, revealing who we are as Americans—past, present, and future. The project asks a radical question: Can we understand America by listening closely to just one state?

Whitman, Alabama answers: yes.

You can’t find Whitman, Alabama on a map—no matter how hard you look.

Yet it exists.

It exists when real people across Alabama do something they wouldn’t normally do: recite poetry while complete strangers record them on camera. They say yes to the moment—and we never stop being surprised, or grateful, for their generosity.

It takes time out of their day. Requires vulnerability and a leap of faith—trusting us to make something meaningful with their voice and their image.

At its core, Whitman, Alabama is about expanding our sense of self—how large we are. Or, as Whitman put it, recognizing that we “contain multitudes.”

I love comic books and have very specific opinions on gummy bears and donuts. I speak a little Dutch, laugh with a wheeze, and have broken a heart or two (had mine broken as well). I grew up on football and think raw hot dogs taste good. I’m also a woman, bi-racial, and gay.

People are complicated and surprising. Once we accept that, we’re more likely to find opportunities to connect and understand each other.

In Whitman, Alabama, we live—and invite others to live—in a different kind of space.

The language is different. The vibe is different. The ethos is different. And people are responding to that.

Some Alabamians who no longer live in the state have told us it made them yearn for home.

People who’ve never been to Alabama are telling us they plan to visit.

So many have said it made them fall in love with their fellow Americans again.

The participants in this project are truly brave. They’re put in the spotlight, working with antiquated poetic language—words far from most people’s daily speech. Some stumble, mispronounce, start over—and keep going. Others deliver the poem as if poetry is their mother tongue. All of them bring something real.

And then, something unexpected emerges on camera. What you see isn’t them declaring who they are. It’s them, stepping into who they could be.

Welcome to Whitman, Alabama—not a real city with traffic tickets and junk mail, census boxes and soundbites, but a place built on community, poetic exchange, and shared humanity. Here, we win by showing up—fully, bravely, and as ourselves.