Getting Through It: On Motherhood & The Complicated Nature of Visibility
been thinking. been writing. been mothering. let's get into it.
well, what’s there to say really besides ya girl made it to 14 months of motherhood. I would apologize for going ghost and not giving y’all the “Nuggie is 1!” update but honestly and, of course, truly, April-June was a blur for me. first of all, I DIYed most of Indigo’s 1st birthday party (4/10 would kinda recommend only to feel like Big Mama in the moment but also would kinda not recommend because get somebody else to do it!). secondly, once our little diva got on her feet, our world changed all over again.
a wise woman once said: “someone needs to baby proof me", and EXACTLY.
I also am officially one year postpartum. and now i fully understand what people mean when they say you never go back to who you were before. as much as i’ve tried to be present in every moment to take an accurate picture of all the changes in real time, it’s simply impossible.
of course, there are the obvious ones: weight gain, brain fog, hair changes and an endless amount of “what if”-s floating around my mind at any given moment. I am more viscerally aware of my own mortality every waking minute…when you want to live as long as possible, you start to see life like an hourglass. every single particle of time feels precious.
but i’m still finding the language for the less obvious ones. motherhood has been a culture shock for me. i’d set up my life in such a free flowing way that the constraints of nap times, feedings, diaper changes and “EHMO” viewings (shoutout to all of the moms who committed to the two years of zero screens, soldier on and stay strong—-but just know that first hit of Sesame Street will go straight to their veins) felt like seeing myself in a 24-hour funhouse mirror. not to mention the insistence of far too many people to be constantly critiquing mothers, mothering and motherhood in ways that feel increasingly bizarre.
then there’s the matter of visibility.
i’ve been thinking a great deal about what it meant to leave my childhood home (Detroit!) as a 17-year-old girl and be thrust into a program that was all about stripping away every inch of who I was. being a Black girl in a classical theatre program really could be its own documentary. another culture shock moment in my life, ya know?
if you know anything about the history of Detroit—-it’s long time been called the Blackest city in America, especially when I was growing up in the 90s. when I often tell my friends who grew up in other cities about how little of my life revolved around the experiences, thoughts, TV shows, music, etc…of non-Black people, they cannot believe it. I mean my elementary/middle school was named after a Black man, ran by a Black woman and had predominately Black staff. my pediatrician and dentist were Black. as were the people who owned the houses on my block, the mayor, the 36th District Court Judge (oh, y’all thought Judge Mathis was just a TV guy? He was really in them streets!) and the chief of police (RIP to Benny Napoleon, forreal). add in the fact that my father was part of the Black Arts Movement and called people like Amiri Baraka, James Baldwin and Maya Angelou friends and my mother toured with the likes of Aretha Franklin and Anita Baker.
all I knew was Blackness.
so, to say that a classical theatre program was not, at all, what I was used to would be putting it lightly. and one in Minneapolis? even less so.
Viola Davis explains it so well in this video starting at the 29:35 mark. Classical training is about creating a version of a person who can be a vessel for stories that very seldom include us. I was really struck by these two quotes:
I feel that as a Black actress
I am always being tasked to show I have range by doing white work
and
I did not think that I could use me. Me needed to be left at the front door.
Even though me was what got me in there.
she went on to talk about how as soon as she left Julliard, the expectation of Hollywood was that she would be stereotypically Black and her training would then be seen as a knock against her. I can relate, completely. I mean Viola Davis is one of the greatest actors—-dead or alive—-in the history of acting so when I say I relate to her…I am clearly talking about this particular experience. lol. let’s be serious.
all this to say, my relationship with visibility has been one fraught with complication after shapeshifting endlessly since the age of 17. being less this, more that. not too much of that though. and please not too little of this. and being in an industry where your image is your job is another ball game all together. what beauty is and what it isn’t. what it can be for a Black woman and what it must be to book work.
characters became safety nets while the real me felt more suppressed.
there are moments where I literally recoil at the thought of being observed. the possibility of being incorrectly perceived, rejected or even ignored feels heavy after being subjected to all of the above via a career based on perception.
but there is no hiding in motherhood.
that’s what i’m getting at. Indigo is always observing me. she is always seeing me. and I am learning to see me again too. to make sure i’m in the family memories whether I appear as the exact version of myself I want to be or not. to let her see me doing everything and nothing in equal measure. to believe that what she sees is someone loving her endlessly but also loving themselves properly.
someone who is not hiding.
does this mean that now i’ll upload video components to these pieces? possibly (yes? yes.) or become the popular TikToker my friends believe I could be? maybe. but for now it means I am recording myself more and trying my best to not critique them so much that they never see the light of day. letting Indigo see me set up a camera and tape an audition. or letting her watch me warm up for a voiceover. i am letting her see me becoming. working. discovering. and getting out of my own way.
hold me to it? thanks, as always.
housekeeping.
in the process of paywalling content older than a year. read up!
my award-winning short film Love Escapes Us is streaming on KweliTV.
Byline Baddie merch is restocked! plus, new color ways and designs coming soon. ah!
My calendar is open for two writing clients (with sessions starting in August!). I really miss tapping in with writers about process, getting work (it’s wild out here right now) and establishing their unique voice. I wish I could meet with more people but two is the max.
how would we feel about a video or written post helping professional writers get to and keep the coin in an ever changing industry? (this isn’t rhetorical! i’ve been wanting to do a little something similar to this but more geared to creating pieces that bring you work vs. just virality).
in closing.
this was so, so good. Shad is truly a star.
you make motherhood both appealing and more terrifying. grateful for your honesty + your pen.
She is a blessed gift!