I am a social worker (BSW + MSW + LSW) who was born and raised in both Jackson and Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi. Currently residing in Chicago, Illinois, I am currently working as a medical social worker at a large, inner-city hospital. I use a person-centered approach as well as brief therapies to help my patients and their loved ones to make decisions about what comes “after the hospital,” whether that’s a discharge to home or a discharge to heaven.
I’ve got roots that span from Mississippi, North Carolina, and Texas – all the way to Illinois. I was raised in a seriously unserious Southern Baptist family (think Righteous Gemstones). Awkwardly, my roots also took shape in both Episcopal and Catholic church and school settings. Much of my adulthood has consisted of deconstructing and unpacking the dichotomy between these religious and cultural dogmas. Over the years, I have found my hope and salvation through engaging in the greater photography community, local music scenes, various activist groups, and by learning the art of storytelling.
The concept of hopefulessness came to me at a pivotal moment in my life. I had recently moved to the big city, quit a dead-end job, gone through a life-changing breakup, and was navigating a deep, deep pain that tumbled within me. Driving through city streets day-in and day-out, running from my problems yet searching for answers, Hopefulessness by Courtney Barnett came onto my car stereo:
“You know what they say,
No one is born to hate.
We learn it somewhere along the way.
Take your broken heart,
Turn it into art.
Can’t take it with you.”
To me, Hopefulessness is the tumultuous process of returning to hope in the face of fear and uncertainty. It is in these stories of trials and tribulations, pride and humility, and longing and suffering, in which I believe we are able to find one another and return to the breath, the heart, and ultimately to the self.
Hopefulessness 