My trap queen era
So I had to leave Temple University because I transferred to art school. I attended the Tyler School of Art for a semester, and the glass-blowing course that I thought would be so cool basically became my ticket out of there—it was so expensive we couldn’t afford it. But at least I learned glass blowing, a skill I will have forever.
I had to drop out of college, and I was so upset. I was depressed for a bit, and since my mom didn’t approve of weed, I didn’t smoke. I didn’t even know where to find it, to be honest. Then one day, as I was walking on 79th and Broadway with an old high school friend, I saw one of my childhood classmates walking with a girl who was literally rolling up. My eyes got big. I didn’t know what me and her were about to do, but at that point, I didn’t even care. I saw a trusted source with weed, and we all went to Riverside Park to smoke. I was so hyped to be reunited with weed again. After our park rendezvous, we all went to what they called “the trap” or the basement. It literally was a basement of a residential building that one of the guys’ father owned, which was pretty dope. I thought they called it the trap to sound cool because Fetty Wap had just dropped "Trap Queen," I would later learn that it really was a trap house.
So this was my entryway back into the weed game. At the basement, I was able to cop bud anytime, and just like that, I was back! I used to frequent the basement every day except weekends for like 2-3 years straight.
At the basement, I learned a lot about myself. I felt more connected to my Blackness because it was located near 125th Street on Lenox Ave. It was my entryway to self-awareness and being exposed to street life. Men that I would be frightened to walk by on the street, I got to see in a different light. I was probably around all types of street folk, but my innocence only allowed me to see them for who they are, without the mask they have to put on when in the streets. For a while, it felt like a family, but that came to an end in 2017. One day, I was down there, and the police raided the spot, arresting me and a few others who were chilling there. If I didn’t believe it was a trap before, I did that day. I had a gun pointed at my face, something I will never forget.
It was truly a traumatic experience, and even more traumatic because my family got involved. For years, my mom did not know I was frequenting the basement/trap. It exposed a lot but was a great lesson for myself and my family. I was exposed to what it was like being arrested and staying in a jail cell for a night—an unforgettable experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But at that moment, it truly started my spiritual journey. This moment made me finally realize that I am a Black woman. I don’t think I was aware of that or even acknowledged it before. Before, I was just an innocent, sweet girl. After that, I was an aware, young Black woman, accepting who I am and finally taking pride in myself.
A week later, I went to New Orleans for an art residency at the Joan Mitchell Center, which was much needed. There, I met the artist Amy Sherald, who introduced me to meditation. She sat down with me and consoled me through her words and sisterhood during a time when I felt my lowest. I knew that I wanted to be better because I couldn’t understand, for the life of me, why a sweet girl like myself would be caught in a predicament like that. She introduced me to the Insight Timer app, where I was able to explore different meditations and begin my meditation practice. At first, it was so hard to meditate, but in a year, I was a pro—able to switch from guided meditations to just frequencies. I could silence my mind and cease thoughts. I could just be present, and that is where I learned the gift of my presence.
