I’ve always wanted to be an artist. My art journey began in elementary school, leading me to Loch Raven Academy, a magnet school for art. Art was an integral part of my childhood, and I was fortunate to have family members who encouraged me to explore my creativity from an early age. I have fond memories of my grandmother taking me to the art store and spending hundreds of dollars on art supplies to support my passion.
In high school, I was excited about going to college. Everyone around me seemed to believe that college was the only way to grow and succeed. I latched onto the idea of attending a prestigious art school. Although I applied to art schools outside of Maryland, at the last moment, I decided to go to Bowie State. This was my first opportunity to leave home and find my own way. Eventually, I transferred to CCBC Community College in Baltimore County. At CCBC, I connected deeply with my art teachers and fellow peers, all while maintaining the dream of attending an art school that would teach me everything I needed to become the artist I aspired to be.
During my time at CCBC, I applied to the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), an art school many of my peers were excited to get into. I was ecstatic when I was accepted with a scholarship, feeling like my dreams were about to come true. However, life had different plans for me. My parents and I argued about transferring in the spring instead of the fall. I had rescheduled my classes to stay one more semester at CCBC, leading to a heartbreaking disagreement.
As a Black woman in a family of educators, I struggled to find value in my artistic skills. Disappointed and feeling like I couldn’t live the life I envisioned, I walked away from art, believing I needed a college degree from a fancy art school to be successful. In hindsight, that belief seems so silly.
I often ask myself, did I run away from home? I struggled to gain independence from my family, and choosing to stay at CCBC was one of my first major life decisions. It was a hard choice because I would have given anything to leave home. Home wasn’t a safe place for me, and I grew up believing that college was the proper way to leave. I still remember my mother’s boyfriend telling me, “If you leave, don’t ever think about coming back,” and I knew he meant every word. There was so much tension in our relationship, but his goal was to have me leave home as a competent adult. He helped me find my freedom through the challenges of an overprotective parent. He supported my efforts to get my first job. He fought with me to become independent enough to get my license. Although he supported me, it didn’t take away from him putting his hands on me out of frustration and anger. Choosing to stay at CCBC was a decision I didn’t take lightly. I sat down with the head of the art department and felt the courage to stay. This was an opportunity for me to stand up for myself, but I couldn’t make them see the value of my decision. Unable to explain my financial situation to my family, things became physical, and I ultimately left home.
Years passed without painting. After having my second child at home, I felt a deep connection to being a birth worker, realizing I had more to offer the world. During that time, home birth was often viewed as a crazy choice, and many people in my life didn’t understand my decision. While navigating my postpartum period, I became a birth worker, eager to support other families on their journey into parenthood.
One day, I stumbled upon images of birth art. Excited, I looked up the artists, only to find none were Black women. This realization gave me hope and sparked an idea. I felt called to create birth art, celebrating the experiences of Black women. I still remember how thrilled I was to share this new adventure with my partner.
Today, being in the position I am now feels like a dream. It’s a path I feel blessed to be on. I’ve learned that just because you’re not actively creating art doesn’t mean you’re not an artist. Sometimes, it takes pain, lack of community, and a little inspiration to reignite your passion. This journey has taught me the importance of passion and persistence, the inherent value of creativity, and the resilience needed to overcome personal and familial challenges. I’ve realized how vital representation is and how a lack of community can be a powerful motivator to create and fill the void with your unique perspective and experiences. Life experiences, like motherhood, can reignite old passions, leading to new and meaningful expressions of creativity. My journey has been anything but straightforward, yet it has led me to a place where I can combine my love for art with my passion for birth work. I am proud to celebrate and represent the beauty of Black motherhood through my art.