Thoughts from Tripping to Thailand.

Posing at the Train Market in Bangkok, shortly before a morning train passed through.

It’s like a Black girl ritual to get your hair done before a vacation. Most opt for braids - versatile and easy to maintain while traveling. Some rock their natural curls, making pool days or water excursions less stressful. My hair is typically easiest for me to maintain when straight, making me probably the only Black woman to get a silk press before vacay. But not this time. Not before tripping to Thailand. For the first time in my life I traveled somewhere without my hair done, and the thought of that still slightly haunts me. Especially because it was across the world. I went across the world with my hair pulled to the top of my head, because that was all I had left to give before catching my flight. 

Me and said bun, the front camera on iPhone is more blurry than I thought.

Of course I was just going to do my hair when I got there. I packed my flat irons, figured I’d use the blow dryer at the hotel. A whole plan. What I didn’t factor in was needing the energy. I think I'm so conditioned to mustering up physical energy because no matter what the show must go on… that I thought the same would apply here. But it’s not even just about physical energy. For essentially the first five days of my trip, I was doing my hair “today”. I know at some point my cousin that I traveled with couldn’t help but think “girl you said that yesterday”. But even in the rare moments that I could find the physical resources, spiritually I just couldn’t get to it. My spirit needed rest. But more than anything my spirit needed space to take in Thailand’s energy. A  country that just gave carefree. Not what I’d expected at all (I didn’t even have time to do my hair, so no.. I didn’t research much before I went). 

The main road leading to the night markets in Chiang Mai.

Personal space not being a thing on Thailand streets kind of irked me to say the least. Everyone is moving with speed, and literally breathing on your neck if they’re walking the same direction. But what I couldn’t help but notice is that no one cared (except foreigners like me). No one had negative energy or moved with irritation. Urgency, but not aggravation. Get in where you fit in and just keep moving. Flow… together. I can sit next to you in a public space no matter how many empty tables there are across the room because why not? What does it matter if no one is being harmed and the seat right next to you is open? Saying kind of irked me was really a lie, I still feel some kind of way about it. When strangers are involved I like my personal space. But I have to be even more honest and admit that I respect it. I get it. It opened my eyes to the trivial things we waste energy on. It doubled down on the sad reality of how far the culture that I’m used to goes to NOT connect with people. In Thailand it was normal to be sensual- couples in the street, in the mall, at work holding hands. Touching. Gazing into each others’ eyes. The cab driver buying me and my friends flowers at the red light for no other reason than to see the smiles on our faces. He couldn’t speak a lick of English and we couldn't speak a lick of Thai - but he didn’t let the language barrier stop a connection. 

PDA at work? America would never!

My spirit struggled so hard to find the energy to straighten my hair, because there were so many other things to focus on. No- I wasn’t going out literally looking any which way by the head - I’m grown but my mama still don’t play that, lol. But it wasn’t my standard of beauty. And that’s what bothered me. I didn’t feel the most confident or comfortable when taking pictures because I wasn’t at or looking my best. But Thailand didn’t give AF. Between an itinerary and free time to explore, Thailand wanted me to just be- and take it all in. It wanted me to connect with my surroundings. Focus less on my beauty and more on the beauty of its land. Of its people.

The richness of the culture was captivating but in the most subtle ways. It was in the energy of everyone at the night markets browsing the unique items each vendor had to offer. It was the granddaughter working with her grandmother to prep food for people shopping on the boats at the water market. Culture was prevalent in the genuine kind spirit of every native that said hello and goodbye when I would enter a new place. No place or person is perfect. But it was something about Thailand that made me remember imperfections are what make things feel just right.

The most imperfect sunset in Phuket, Thailand.

Two days before leaving, I finally styled my hair. Vanity had to win at some point, right? Honestly, probably not lol. I just let it win because that’s what made me happy (and I finally found the energy). But I didn’t lose sight of the lesson learned. The world is so much bigger than how we see ourselves. So much bigger than our preferences and what we’re used to. I’m worried about how my hair looks, when there’s literal mountains, oceans, flowers, animals that I’ve never seen up close for me to observe. The spirit of freedom is flowing freely around me but I’m confining myself to the thoughts of my own appearance - something literally no one else is probably concerned with. The point was to connect with others, with a new place. New perspective. Step outside of myself and take it all in.

I can gracefully and gratefully say despite my energy - I did just that. I basked in connection. And even managed to do it with my last minute silk press. 😉

My curls didn’t stand a chance, but I felt cute though!

Thoughts from Not Knowing What to Say.

Over the last three months or so I’ve attempted to write a new blog countless times with no real success in completing it. I wanted to talk about grief - because I know it all too well - and yet again it smacked the shit out of me at the top of summer on June 1st, when I watched my mother crawl on the floor next to my auntie’s lifeless body and just lay there with her. It’s so much more to unpack here, but that’s the problem- every time I begin to write I get stuck and start overthinking - is it worth unpacking? Is it worth sharing my trauma with the world? Hell, is it worth sharing my happiness with the world? What am I getting in return? Do I even need anything in return? So many questions and so few answers (which is also the story of my life).

When you lose someone or something, there is space for you to gain something else. Grief can make that hard to see though. When the loss of something or someone is so great that it’s literally indescribable, that it literally makes you helpless and ready to say fuck it all, there’s no point in continuing on - you don’t even consider what there is to gain. Because the one thing that will always remain true is that when it’s of real value there is nothing that can replace what you lost (by death or by life). Losing a bond with a parent, a sibling, your best friend, that one auntie that was literally your ride or die, etc. creates a void that can never be filled. But something I’ve learned is it’s not about the void or trying to fill it. What there is to gain is not about replacing what you lost at all. What there is to gain has everything to do with your choice to sink or swim. Naturally, you will do both at some point in your journey. But which side do you want to end up on? Life is one big cycle of shit we can’t control, shit that isn’t fair, shit that makes our hearts beat a rhythm we can’t explain and our stomachs flutter with the butterflies of unfamiliar territory. What there is to gain is perspective, and that perspective is meant to complement our grief. It’s meant to complement our growth and catapult our healing but we have to let it.

*credit to unknown IG account

Thinking about everything I’ve ever been through, but especially lately - I don’t really want to talk to be honest. At least not to people that I fear or know won’t get it. I want to talk to the people that I miss. The people that I could call whether I had good news or bad news. The people I could spend eight plus hours just talking about life with. The people that are the reason I have this void in the first place. And that makes me not know what to say, because I can’t control that feeling or circumstance. I can control how I respond to it though, and I’m working on it. Finding that balance between pushing through and making space to heal instead of crashing out is hard. I was taught to hustle. To work. To be strong. To run shit. But I get too caught up in doing that and it’s a nice distraction for a while, until I get a day off and I’m burnt out. I’m exhausted and all of the thoughts and empty feelings of loss and grief cripple me and confine me to my bed. It’s those experiences however that ended up highlighting what I could gain and taught me to start with shifting my perspective. So many times of going through life-changing loss you start to recognize depression a tad easier, and that’s when I ask myself - do I want to sink or swim? Some days I choose to sink, most days I choose to swim, but everyday I choose to honor God’s plan for me and the spoken and unspoken promises I’ve made to those that aren’t in my life anymore. 

I still don’t know what to say, what to write, what to share with the world right now. But even when I’m stuck in place, I’m working because I’ve already committed to the decision that where I am now is not my final destination. So in the meantime, while I find my words, my creative spark and everything else again, I find comfort in the memories of those I’ve lost since a child. I take pride in honoring those that have impacted my life, in ways both big and small, and allow their legacies to inspire me to remember to swim when I want to sink. I remain steady in prayer and spirituality for myself and for those that I love that have been impacted by these same losses, especially knowing that some of them were impacted far more than me. I don’t know what else life has in store, and I will do my best to make the best of the rest of the journey. Honoring those that have gone home is not just for myself, but for my family, my friends, and my community - simply, everyone that I love. If you’re reading this I love you, and if you see the name of someone you love below know that I loved them too, and I thank God for their impact on my life.

This is for: Jerry Harris. Florence Woodfork. Jewell Beasley. Rosalie Woodfork. Major West Jr. Jalen Harris. Gregory Hines Jr. Shirley Jean Scott. Anthony Woodfork. Jarvis Smith. Matthew Hicks. Mansour Njie. Jerry Woodfork. Tahita White. William Smith Jr. Justin Burnley. Mark Brown. Minnie Washington. Jane Williams. Arkadelphia Campbell. Howard Woodfork Jr. Louise Redmon. Jacque Jackson. David Turner. Carolyn Boykins. Marcellus Martinez. Jordan Ivy. Jamaal Stanciel. Mary Payton. Inza Coulibaly. And the many others that may no longer be in my current realm, but have provided me with something or someone that has shaped the woman I am today. Here’s to the journey…

Thoughts From Turning Thirty (30).

Wow. Thirty years old. Another trip around the sun feels more like a spaceship ride into an entirely new universe. I celebrated for four days straight (which kinda turned into two weeks straight, lol), simultaneously basking in love and wallowing in grief. Crazy to think about the two co-existing, especially during such a milestone moment in life. But apart of growing the f*ck up is embracing duality. You have to hold yourself accountable not to fall too far on certain ends of the spectrum. Understand that you can be genuinely happy, and still wish your circumstances were different. Accepting the duality of emotions and in life situations is a cheat code. It’s how you put yourself ahead of others, but most importantly it’s how you excel on your journey to finding peace.

One of the best moments of my entire birthday weekend was being surrounded by so much love. I am blessed enough to have had people travel from different places to celebrate me. The amount of literal and figurative flowers and gifts that I received filled my heart with so much joy as a reminder that there are people that love me enough to go the extra mile. As someone who is known for going the extra mile for people, that means the world to me. The journey to 30 over these last couple of months has been filled with so much reflection, and one of the main things I’ve realized is that reciprocity is rare. Even the people that actually care about you will struggle to reciprocate the love you give them and the way you show up for them. The craziest part of it all is that you have to understand it literally has nothing to do with you. The choices people make and the capacity they have to show up for you (or lack thereof) are more of a reflection of where they are in their own journey than anything else. It’s a tough pill to swallow knowing that you can be there for someone when they call and even when they don’t, and they can not show up for you in your brightest and darkest hours. So what do we do with that? Do we say fuck them? Do we pretend they don’t really care about us? Maybe. Almost all of my friends are good for leaving people right where they had them fucked up at. And everyday I aspire to be more like them. It’s not that I allow people to play with me - because we don’t even play them kind of games - but I do find myself checking behavior, and then letting my understanding of said behavior isn’t personal to me allow me to still share space with someone. In some cases this makes sense and is okay, because what’s love without forgiveness? But in others you have to know to make that space permanent. I can transparently say I’m still working through figuring out when to do what, but one thing I do know is that you never quite figure anything all the way out - at least not life. Thirty is already showing me that if you want to be happy, if you want to succeed, you have to let go.

In a season of letting go, I struggle with always remaining positive about it. I have my good days where I remind myself that you have to let go in order to make room for something better, and I use that to give myself something to look forward to. But then I have days where the reality of not knowing what’s coming or when it will arrive makes me more anxious than I’m comfortable with. What grounds me and brings me back to not sweating what I can’t control is my faith. Faith in God is literally what keeps me alive. It is what keeps me going. Friendship is what makes the journey of pushing through and remaining faithful a lot easier though. My friends are literally what made my birthday probably the most special birthday I’ve ever experienced and they are what gets me through the daily turmoil of my journey. Someone treated me wrong, I’m hitting my girls, lol. I just need to get out of the house, or I just want to hear a comforting voice? I’m calling my friends. I’m eternally in debt to God for how well he blessed me with solid people around me. My mother used to always tell me, “if you get one real friend in this life, you are blessed.” I need to go ask her “what’s it called when you have more than 5?” I’m in awe thinking about how I have to use more than one hand to count my village of friends. And I’m not talking about associates, I mean real friends - people that honor my name, hold my secrets, tell me the things I need to hear, not what I want to hear. Women and men that only want from me what I want from them - to witness the best version of ourselves. To grow and flourish. I have friends that are moms (aka super-heroes), friends that own businesses, friends that have been through situations that most people would’ve called it quits on life for, but they still show up gracefully in my life and the lives of so many others. When I think about my blessings, I definitely count my friends three times! It’s because of them I have advanced on my journey to peace and happiness. It’s because of them I’m able to remember the bad ass bitch that I am when someone in this insane world tries to make me feel less than. It’s because of them I am inspired to be a better woman, every day. 

So in thinking about how to keep pushing in this crazy world and how to make space for the positive despite the negative looming, I think about the benefit of doing the hard work now. The hard work is choosing not to wallow in my grief but still acknowledge that it exists. The easy thing to do is pretend it’s not there. Keep myself so distracted that any stress I feel I can write off as effects from work or maybe I can’t (consciously) put my finger on the cause at all. Drink it away, party it away, work it away, the usual things we do to convince ourselves that we’re fine and nothing’s wrong. But the funny thing about the easy route is it’s only easy right now. In the end, it complicates every fucking thing if I’m being honest. You end up surviving through life instead of living through it. And if turning thirty has taught me nothing else, it’s taught me that I absolutely want to LIVE my best life. A life where even through the ups and downs I remain intentional about my happiness and literally feel the highs of my blessings. When I think about what my most prominent thought from turning thirty is, it’s to choose you. Not the comfortable you, not the current you - but the you you want to be. The you that God and the universe intend for you to be. Choose your highest, most healed you even though she/he/they doesn’t exist yet. That single choice will align you with endless possibilities that are meant for you and you only. And it will propel you to heights you’ve only dreamed of. This blog and sharing some of my most intimate thoughts is an example of me doing that, and I pray that you’ll stay on this journey with me. After all, hard work is never any fun alone. ❤️

Being able to share organic thoughts in safe spaces is sacred to me. Check out my thoughts on the work it takes to chase your dreams! Subscribe to my channel on YouTube - there’s more where this came from. Xoxo

Thoughts From Changing Careers and Choosing Self.

“My whole titty is about to be on the internet.” This thought ran through my mind for months as I carefully curated the most intimate photoshoot I’ve done for myself, to (re)introduce my brand to the world. I remember the first time I saw one of the inspiration pictures for the shoot - the very pic I’m referencing when the anxiety about my “titty” on the internet flares. I was on the floor of Soldier Field in Chicago, standing in front of my seat in the designated Alien Superstar VIP section of the Renaissance World Tour. And there she was on the gigantic screen behind the stage, Beyoncé Knowles-Carter laying down in a short black fur, her blonde hair big and sexy, skin radiating through the screen and beautifully standing out against the photo’s glitched background of darkness with peeks of greenery on a blue sky and white clouds. There were other details about the visual that I noticed, but what stood out most was Beyonce’s demeanor. It was fierce, it was fiery, it gave SEX but not in a way that turns you on - instead in a way that inspires you. In a way that sets you free. And that was what captivated me, the expression of freedom. After a tumultuous time in life, I yearned for that same freedom - particularly in my career. 

Being born and raised on the Southside of Chicago, and brought up by two entrepreneurs puts a certain level of grit in you. It teaches you hustle, and reminds you that there’s multiple routes to the same destination. It also shows you very clearly nothing in this life comes easy, but the things you work to earn will reap unimaginable rewards. In hindsight, coming from this background probably had everything to do with me being 24 and deciding “I’m starting my own production company.” Maybe only a few years into the TV industry at the time, but consistently building experience in event production and creative project management, I figured why not? I started off in television production as a PA for a show on VH1, and it’s no secret PA’s get worked like dogs. No matter how much grit I have, I am not here to work like anyone’s dog baby - I was literally just a girl, lol. I was, however, fortunate enough to work with amazing crews, blessed to be under the direction of a Black woman Production Manager. The same Black woman that would later pass the torch to me and bring me up to my first Production Manager role for Turner Classic Movies. And by time this torch was passed, the checks were not cut to me but instead to my production company - Morally Cinful Productions. 

That first check to my company lit another fire in me to keep going, and get myself to a place where I didn’t have to continue freelancing in an industry where you’re overworked and mistreated but instead build a portfolio of clients that were working on things I actually cared about. Projects that allowed me to live out my company’s motto of “production with a purpose.” Projects that gave way to me collaborating with Black creatives building media brands, speaking their truths on podcasts, curating safe spaces for minorities in fashion, among other creative endeavors that will always be dear to my heart. I could list accolades and professional titles like Director of Operations for a 4x NYT Best-Selling author to explain the magnitude of work I’ve done so far, but it’s not those accolades that motivate me to new heights. What actually motivates me is knowing that just like the creatives and CEOs I’ve spent nearly a decade working with, I have some shit to say. What motivates me is the little girl that won regional oratory contests, and hosted her elementary school’s talent show every year from 5th to 8th grade. The little girl that had acting roles in school and local plays. The little girl that I was then was always complimented and praised for how well she spoke. She was encouraged to continue speaking, continue leading and continue learning. And I’d be lying if I said she ever stopped leading or learning, but there came a time where the speaking stopped. Not literally, but there were no more oratory contests, no more speeches or writing articles for the newspaper, no acting roles, no poems for years until sophomore year of college - and even then it lasted maybe only a semester or two. 

I’d spent all of my high school years with a clouded spirit, just living in survival mode. While some of that cloudiness lingered all throughout college, my freshman year experience of witnessing my mentor push through her own woes and plan Mizzou’s rendition of Black Girls Rock! - “Black Women Rock!” - opened my eyes to new passions. At that point my purpose felt like it shifted. It became about honoring others and crafting spaces to make their voices heard. It was all gas no brakes on founding an RSO on campus after I transferred to U of I, and coordinating the largest awards ceremony specifically geared towards honoring Black women on campus and in the community that Champaign-Urbana had seen. A ceremony that I, along with the efforts of amazing students and gracious donors, would successfully execute for 3 years straight before graduating and leaving the honor to my successor. 

This lane of producing events and telling other peoples’ stories continued post grad, hence the aforementioned media production and creative business operations work. But it came to a point where things in my life rapidly shifted all at once. Everything I thought God had written in stone for me was being replaced by circumstances I would’ve lost my last dollar confidently betting against. And with life changes came a change in my personal desires. It also came with a lot of reflecting. What is God trying to say to me by taking everything away? After sitting with that question for a couple of months, like magic in the middle of the night my thoughts became clearer. God had not put me on certain paths to redirect my purpose, he had quickly put me in the mix of intense environments to remind me of my purpose. To reveal to me that the little girl with a knack for speaking and displaying her captivating personality is ready to resurface, but now as the woman who is skilled, poised, and unafraid of the tough conversations. Ready to be the woman that will talk her shit, but always gracefully and with meaning. Ready to articulate her own thoughts and passions in her work - because after all, artists are sensitive about their shit. So if I’m to deal with anyone’s high emotions around their craft, why not let them be my own?

So as I write this and prepare to “put my titty” on the internet - I do it with an indescribable feeling of gratitude and faith that I know only comes from God. The depths of vulnerability I had to reach to not only face my fear of “how will this be perceived?” but also “will my months of hard work translate well?” were new territory for me. But the good thing about chartering new territory is the endless possibilities and new beginnings that come with it. Haters will say “who she think she is, Beyoncé?!” and my response will simply be, “So what if I do?” If they weren’t hating, I’d respond - “No, not a chance - I’m not there yet, lol.” But we all know a supporter wouldn’t even think some shit like that. If you take nothing else away from this, just be inspired to be you. Read this blog, look at the photos from my shoot, get in tune with me to stay abreast of my upcoming talk series, and just be inspired to chase your dreams. Don’t let fear, imposter syndrome, or a hating hoe stop you. 

My days in the production field are not ending, they are simply shifting. Where I was once behind the camera, I am now proudly in front of it. Still being creative, still thinking about all of the production details (I can’t help it), but in front of the camera displaying my thoughts, my passions, and all that I can speak on to aid in improving our shared life experiences. Loudly. Happily. Purposefully. And in many forms. Through pictures, through conversations, through random, everyday content. Creative and Executive will forever be a part of my title - but I now proudly add Speaker to that list. And I thank God for everything that’s on its way to me.