I am a Black, queer, Christian woman who's masculine-presenting. I am a poet, screenwriter, playwright, and painter. I create stories about the African American experience, gender, and sexual orientation: the intersectionality of their lived experiences, the exclusion of identity within these groups, and the silencing of their voices. I thrive to possess the voices of queer, Black people and display possible outlooks on the queer and/or Black experience. I was accepted into Carnegie Mellon University School of Drama, where I will be working towards an MFA for Dramatic Writing this Fall. I know that my screenplays/plays broaden the narrative of young Black people's lived realities in America, and I desire to bring what I write on paper to the stage and the big screen. I intend to add representation of lost voices to the forefront, so narratives that reflect and diversify the Black experience will exist. With my pursuit towards a creative degree, I will reimagine and redefine how Blackness is currently depicted—particularly in connection with the multiplicities of ways that we as Black people show up. I am a queer, God-fearing, masculine-presenting, epileptic woman, yet I am still Black. People have said that being all these things are complex like Black can only be one thing, but their co-existence can be simple. That’s what I want to say through my stories. I highlight the queer, Black body in my screenplays because many times we talk about Black bodies, but we exclude the queer experience. I want to show that Black people are more than just one thing. One of the biggest issues I have of how we see Black bodies is we are often defined either as one extreme or the other. By reinforcing a binary of either very strong, so strong in fact, we don’t feel pain, or we are weak and broken as depicted by the stories told of us from the perspectives of slaves or maids or, of course, the “thug,” in the struggle story. We are never allowed to live on the spectrum. One of my dreams is to show, through my work, that we are allowed to live on the spectrum. My creative degree is the vehicle. I have so many truths, so much of myself, my art, my beliefs to share with the world, and with my degree, I hope by sharing my truth, I shine a light on others' truths. I will share the realities of what it means to be a young, Black, queer woman in a world marked with religiosity, abuse, and grief, while in the process of becoming.

There are two quotes that I can never forget, and they are both centered around the idea of fear. One comes from my favorite poet, Yrsa Daley-Ward, who said, “If you are afraid to write it, /that's a good sign/I suppose you know when you're/writing the/truth when you're terrified.” Another comes from my mom. She would always tell me, "It's okay to be afraid, as long as you still do it. Do it afraid." I have struggled with fear all my life, and I let so many opportunities and joys pass by me because of fear. I used to think of fear as this big, bad wolf that stood outside my home, and I had to fight off, but these quotes have helped me realize that I never needed to fight it. Fear is a part of my process. I recognize when it comes to the front door, and I let it in, and we sit together sometime. Fear can be alongside me, but it will never stop me. I am a Black, queer, Christian woman who's masculine-presenting. I am a poet, screenwriter, playwright, and painter. I have so many truths, so much of myself, my art, my beliefs to share with the world, and now, I am no longer afraid to do so. I will share the realities of what it means to be a young, Black, queer woman in a world marked with religiosity, abuse, and grief, while in the process of becoming. Doing it afraid is a brilliant, glistening thing, and I hold it on my tongue until words of affirmations fall out, "you got this," "You are worthy," "You deserve the beautiful things in life." This is how I locked up the light. This is how I overcame my fears.

I once told a professor that I was not a “Black” screenwriter/poet/painter, but instead, I was a screenwriter/poet/painter who happens to be Black. She responded, “Give it time, you’ll change your mind.” She was right: my perspective has changed—now I do consider myself a Black artist/writer. What I realize is we must focus on Black bodies because this affirms our existence. Our bodies are real and deserve to be acknowledged. Our bodies are just that—bodies, flesh, blood, bone. I want to be seen as real and here. I'm a screenwriter, poet, and painter who creates stories about the African American experience, gender, and sexual orientation: the intersectionality of their lived experiences, the exclusion of identity within these groups, and the silencing of their voices. As a Black and queer female writer, I thrive to possess the voices of queer, Black people and display possible outlooks on the queer and/or Black experience. My screenplays/plays broaden the narrative of young Black people's lived realities in America. They depict the realities of what it means to be a young, Black, queer person in a world marked with religiosity, abuse, and grief, while in the process of becoming. I intend to add representation of lost voices to my screenplays and create narratives that reflect and diversify the Black experience. With my desire to further my career as a feature screenwriter, I will reimagine and redefine how Blackness is currently depicted—particularly in connection with disabilities, mental illness, sexual violence and abuse, and gender expression. Currently, I am working on a couple of projects, both screenplays that I plan on turning into films. My short script "Crane," which focuses on a grieving teen who recently lost his parents deciding to skip school after his uncle does the unthinkable, explores the themes of freedom and faith and the fragility of them. No matter what we base our freedom on and what we base our faith in, they are living things that drive us, and we cannot have one without the other. It centers on a young dark-skinned boy navigating grief and trauma. My feature-length screenplay entitled “Home,” follows an anxious girl who, after her mother kicks her out of the house, is forced to live in her car. The film features two teenage girls in an intimate exchange and explores the internal and external battle of coming to terms with one’s sexuality. The main character is in love with the free-spirited dog walker but she’s the one who got her kicked out in the first place. I see it as a Black Independent Film. Attempting to possess the voices of queer, Black women, I display one possible outlook on the queer experience. This story highlights what many people in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially in Black families, even more specifically in Black, religious families, are faced with. I know firsthand how it feels to be queer in a Black, religious household. I am a queer, God-fearing, masculine-presenting, epileptic woman, yet I am still Black. People have said that being all these things are complex like Black can only be one thing, but their co-existence can be simple. That’s what I want to say through my stories. I highlight the queer, Black body in my screenplays because many times we talk about Black bodies, but we exclude the queer experience. I want to show that Black people are more than just one thing. One of the biggest issues I have of how we see Black bodies is we are often defined either as one extreme or the other. By reinforcing a binary of either very strong, so strong in fact, we don’t feel pain, or we are weak and broken as depicted by the stories told of us from the perspectives of slaves or maids or, of course, the “thug,” in the struggle story. We are never allowed to live on the spectrum. One of my dreams is to show, through my work, that we are allowed to live on the spectrum.

Currently, I am working on a couple of projects, both screenplays that I plan on turning into films. My short script "Crane," which focuses on a grieving teen who recently lost his parents deciding to skip school after his uncle does the unthinkable, explores the themes of freedom and faith and the fragility of them. No matter what we base our freedom on and what we base our faith in, they are living things that drive us, and we cannot have one without the other. It centers on a young dark-skinned boy navigating grief and trauma. My feature-length screenplay entitled “Home,” follows an anxious girl who, after her mother kicks her out of the house, is forced to live in her car. The film features two teenage girls in an intimate exchange and explores the internal and external battle of coming to terms with one’s sexuality. The main character is in love with the free-spirited dog walker but she’s the one who got her kicked out in the first place. I see it as a Black Independent Film. Attempting to possess the voices of queer, Black women, I display one possible outlook on the queer experience. This story highlights what many people in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially in Black families, even more specifically in Black, religious families, are faced with. I know firsthand how it feels to be queer in a Black, religious household. I'm a screenwriter, poet, and painter who creates stories about the African American experience, gender, and sexual orientation: the intersectionality of their lived experiences, the exclusion of identity within these groups, and the silencing of their voices. As a Black and queer female writer, I write stories that affirm our existence. I want us to be seen as real and here, and to add representation of lost voices to my screenplays and create narratives that reflect and diversify the Black experience. With my desire to further my career as a feature screenwriter, I will reimagine and redefine how Blackness is currently depicted—particularly in connection with disabilities, mental illness, sexual violence and abuse, and gender expression.

Currently, I am working on a couple of projects, both screenplays that I plan on turning into films. My short script "Crane," which focuses on a grieving teen who recently lost his parents deciding to skip school after his uncle does the unthinkable, explores the themes of freedom and faith and the fragility of them. No matter what we base our freedom on and what we base our faith in, they are living things that drive us, and we cannot have one without the other. It centers on a young dark-skinned boy navigating grief and trauma. My feature-length screenplay entitled “Home,” follows an anxious girl who, after her mother kicks her out of the house, is forced to live in her car. The film features two teenage girls in an intimate exchange and explores the internal and external battle of coming to terms with one’s sexuality. The main character is in love with the free-spirited dog walker but she’s the one who got her kicked out in the first place. I see it as a Black Independent Film. Attempting to possess the voices of queer, Black women, I display one possible outlook on the queer experience. This story highlights what many people in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially in Black families, even more specifically in Black, religious families, are faced with. I know firsthand how it feels to be queer in a Black, religious household. I'm a screenwriter, poet, and painter who creates stories about the African American experience, gender, and sexual orientation: the intersectionality of their lived experiences, the exclusion of identity within these groups, and the silencing of their voices. As a Black and queer female writer, I write stories that affirm our existence. I want to add representation of lost voices to my screenplays and create narratives that reflect and diversify the Black experience. With my desire to further my career as a feature screenwriter, I will reimagine and redefine how Blackness is currently depicted—particularly in connection with disabilities, mental illness, sexual violence and abuse, and gender expression. I want the world to see us as real and here, because it affirms our existence.

Currently, I am working on a couple of projects, both screenplays that I plan on turning into films. My short script "Crane," which focuses on a grieving teen who recently lost his parents deciding to skip school after his uncle does the unthinkable, explores the themes of freedom and faith and the fragility of them. No matter what we base our freedom on and what we base our faith in, they are living things that drive us, and we cannot have one without the other. It centers on a young dark-skinned boy navigating grief and trauma. My feature-length screenplay entitled “Home,” follows an anxious girl who, after her mother kicks her out of the house, is forced to live in her car. The film features two teenage girls in an intimate exchange and explores the internal and external battle of coming to terms with one’s sexuality. The main character is in love with the free-spirited dog walker but she’s the one who got her kicked out in the first place. I see it as a Black Independent Film. Attempting to possess the voices of queer, Black women, I display one possible outlook on the queer experience. This story highlights what many people in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially in Black families, even more specifically in Black, religious families, are faced with. I know firsthand how it feels to be queer in a Black, religious household. I'm a screenwriter, poet, and painter who creates stories about the African American experience, gender, and sexual orientation: the intersectionality of their lived experiences, the exclusion of identity within these groups, and the silencing of their voices. As a Black and queer female writer, I write stories that affirm our existence. I want us to be seen as real and here, and to add representation of lost voices to my screenplays and create narratives that reflect and diversify the Black experience. With my desire to further my career as a feature screenwriter, I will reimagine and redefine how Blackness is currently depicted—particularly in connection with disabilities, mental illness, sexual violence and abuse, and gender expression.