One of my earliest memories is of sitting on my great-grandmother’s lap. She was blind, and we talked about imaginary worlds. Over time, I realized that for her, my skin color did not exist. However, the society into which I was born was very different; racism – both subtle and overt – has been part of my life since I was little. Over time, I started to connect my art with my ancestors. My muses’ blindness means not only they not see me but also they can deeply embrace their blackness. Because being black is beautiful.
