These past few months have really tested my belief in self. the more I delve into this art of capturing light, the more I see much more than just what’s through my lens. from my vantage point, it’s a different one. I am a woman. a black and brown woman. in a field saturated by men. celebrated by and for men. I see how other men photographers respond to me. i see how women models respond to me. I see the awe in some women who see my camera. I see the smirk by some men who see my camera. i see the white women group photographers, in their exclusive bubble. i see the assumptions made. I see the advantages taken of me, all witnessed by my vantage point. and honestly, I’m not even mad about any of it. I am silently watching. learning. growing. humbly. and for every rough moment, i get little sparks of love. like my momma constantly asking for her to see what i have shot. or the beautiful older black woman on the train who saw me shifting through my shoot images and she had to tell me, “your work is beautiful”, or my little niece texting me to say: “TITI!! I’m taking photography next semester, I can’t wait!” I’m letting this universe take me exactly where I knew I needed to be.
this is the most beautifully tired and unkempt I have ever been.
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