My story: Getting back to the essence of elevating Black excellence

When we prioritize us, we don’t just survive—we thrive.

I’m a product of the GORGEOUS PRINCE GEORGE’S, a place praised for being one of the richest Black counties in the country.  The home of Academy Award winning actresses, championship winning athletes and broadcasters who’ve covered some of the world’s most historical moments. Prince George’s County is the intersection of politics and policy, culture and causes, arts and ambassadorship; truly a representation of Black excellence on many levels. 

Seeing affluent, educated Black people has always been my norm.  But, as I got older, I realized that my norm was not the way of the world. 

This disheartening realization hit me during my very first class as a Freshman at the University of Maryland, College Park.  There were only four Black girls in my entire scholars program - and funny enough, we were all from Maryland (three of us from Prince George’s County specifically). Not seeing my people subconsciously made me feel like I didn’t belong. And that had major effects on my performance in classes. 

In just a matter of days, I went from being this super confident upper middle class 18-year old who wanted the world, to an introverted, insecure being that was quietly wondering why I was even there. Walking into lecture halls filled with my white classmates and learning from old white professors was a life shock, to say the least. Where I would normally call shots and speak up in high school class discussions, I lessened myself and made passive decisions to take all attention off of me. I didn’t want to stand out and I didn’t feel like I mattered.  Deep inside, I was also aching at the fact that the Black excellence I grew so familiar with, had seemingly disappeared.  Where were the Black professors? How come there were no classes on the role Black women played in makings of America? 

Thankfully, however, I found my tribe, which went a long way in seeing that I did, in fact, belong. That tribe, as small as it was, was home. It was where I went to vent about being asked racist questions. It was where I turned when I needed advice and mentorship. It was what reminded me that I was from excellence - specifically Black excellence - even when my current environment sometimes caused me to forget.  I graduated ready to take on the world. 

Then, I entered the workforce.  

As an administrative assistant at one of the top 3 public relations firms in New York City, I was back to being, or feeling like, “the little Black girl”.  And honestly, this wasn’t due to how my colleagues or clients treated me. They were nice people who cared about the work first.   Now that I think back, the feelings of inadequacy came from not seeing Black women or men in leadership roles.  It came from not having any Black-centered client accounts. It came from never pitching Black journalists or speaking to Black audiences for client coverage. 

This is where I planned my exit, which meant side hustling and creating my own PR firm that only represented Black-focused efforts and clients that I loved (many of whom were my friends that were also starting their own businesses). 

Through my own PR work, I got back to the essence of elevating Black excellence. Something I knew existed, but was no longer able to see first hand. I made a point to find Black journalists that I could pitch to; I created stories that resonated with Black people; I sought out opportunities that brought as much attention as possible to the people I knew were amazing.  

That PR firm then morphed into a studio, CAMPspace, that was created to give Black women creators beautifully designed, safe spaces to create content. Why?  Because we’re the ones creating world-changing content - the moments that live forever on our cellphones, yet, we are appropriated, underpaid and undervalued.