Lately, I’ve been meditating on the concept of agency—specifically, the power we have to make intentional choices about our labor to gain access to the things we want in and out of life.
Apparently, today is a Lion’s Portal 🦁 and it is a great day to manifest. But manifestation is tricky. Without intention we can attract more chaos into our lives. I want agency and art in my life, but I need to be super clear about what I want that to look like.
I’ve recently put this into practice by taking on two new, distinct contracts, both connected to the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts (YBCA). My first is a part-time employee position, which makes me a San Francisco Cultural Worker. The badge from this role is a huge perk, giving my family free admission to cultural institutions throughout the Bay Area. Crucially, the part-time schedule is flexible, allowing me to continue choosing the work I do, including my own projects.
My second contract leverages that flexibility: I’ll be serving as an Associate Producer for a shoot happening at YBCA for an innovative new operatic experience. As one of San Francisco’s premier art institutions, YBCA is a beautiful space. Some artists and communities have justifiable qualms with how it chooses what and whom they engage with, but it remains an institution that artists want to work with.
I’ve learned that goes far in San Francisco. The city is a battle over arts funding (but really what city isn’t) with many cultural institutions in the museum district shutdown for renovations (like Musuem of the African Diaspora and Contemporary Jewish Musuem).
For me, these two distinct contracts represent a deliberate strategy: one role provides foundational access and stability, while the other is a specific, creative engagement. It’s a way to work with an institution I admire while maintaining the autonomy that is so vital to my practice.
This practice of wielding my agency is precisely what has allowed me to be nearly a year into my work on Labor Pains. I’ve never dedicated so much time and deep research to a creative project before; I’ve simply never been afforded the time. Now, I feel like a pirate—I just kind of took the time, and I’m never giving it back. It’s only after this year of exploration that I am finally getting to the point where I feel comfortable enough to commit ideas to paper and begin drafting actual pieces for the final script.
Map & Meets
This deep-dive approach has also inspired a profound change in the project’s workshops. I am thrilled that I am completely restructuring them, moving away from formal, formulaic health-centered meetings. Instead, I am now shaping them as creative social networking events that are also deeply healing gatherings. The pilot workshops I facilitated in Albany were incredibly illuminating and made one thing exceptionally clear: what Black women are asking for are safe, social spaces in which they can be unapologetically creative and expressive.
A moment from one of the last workshops in Albany truly crystallized this new direction. As a group, we were struggling to find the right language for one of the writing prompts. But in the midst of that collective effort, something beautiful happened. A different, more poignant story organically came to the surface from one of the storytellers. The most amazing part was that she herself was able to see and articulate the connection to her own healing simply by being given the protected space to speak.
This dedicated time has also allowed my own artistic vision for the final performance to evolve. My research has helped me identify specific folktales I want to deconstruct and then reconstruct for the script, which excites me to no end. The more art I ingest, the deeper my well of inspiration fills (thank you, Julia Cameron).
Black Women as Portals
This process led to a major breakthrough: instead of using the semi-reflective body maps from the art installation, the live performance will use 3D-printed silhouettes that will act as physical portals for me to travel through on stage. This idea came as a direct result of taking the time to research stories, listen to women, and explore new mediums without limiting myself to what I think I’m good at. I want to be clear: this performance will not be an expedition through Black women’s trauma. It will be a celebration of our resilience, joy, and freedom, manifested through story and art.
Connecting and Creating audiences
With this clearer vision comes a new, ambitious fundraising goal. To move into the second most physically intensive part of this process—constructing the 3D silhouettes and actually writing, composing, and choreographing the performance piece—I aim to raise a total of $30,000. This will be broken down into $17,000 from two upcoming galas and $13,000 through grants and individual generosity.
But these will be unlike any gala you have ever attended. The teacher in me knows that part of the work of the artist is to connect the dots for our audiences. Too often, we use the niche language of our styles and are heartbroken when we feel our work is misunderstood. These galas are a way for me to do that instructional work beforehand, showcasing folktales using the 3D printing and fabrication mediums that will be in the final performance. For those curious about body-mapping but not ready for a full workshop, there will be body-mapping booths to experience the process. The evening will be informative and inspirational, because while I want to raise money for my work, I also want to raise awareness—of the issues related to Black women’s paid and unpaid labor, and of this innovative way to collect oral histories that centers the storyteller, not the collector, correcting a bias that has marred even scientific research.
If nothing else, Labor Pains has taught me that absolutely none of my labor is in vain and that I have absolute control over what it looks like. It’s a tough economy for everyone right now, and while working is in everyone’s best interest, I assert that we should have every agency over what that work looks like and how it feels to us. It should not be something that is dictated to support a structure that benefits a very few. That sense of agency is powerful, and I can’t wait to continue this work and share it with you all at the West Oakland Mural Project and Underground Railroad Education Center in June 2026.
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