For years, I lived in the world of education—
…and everywhere I turned, people told me to “know your why.”
It was on posters. Planners. Repeated in meetings like it was the golden answer to everything.
But truthfully?
That phrase never sat right with me.
My “why” wasn’t poetic.
I didn’t stay in education because I was endlessly inspired.
I stayed because I had two sons to raise, bills to pay, and a life to keep afloat.
I worked hard—really hard—because I had no other choice.
I was tired, overlooked, and carrying the weight of a system that didn’t value me.
But I still showed up.
Not because I had some inspirational mission…
But because I needed a job. I was a provider. And that was enough.
Over time, “What’s your why?” became a performance.
If your reason wasn’t powerful or Instagram-worthy, it didn’t feel like it counted.
Worse—it became a way to guilt people into staying in burnout.
Especially women.
Especially Black women.
It became code for:
“Don’t complain.”
“Don’t quit.”
“Give more, even when you have nothing left.”
So now? I don’t ask my clients to explain their “why.”
You don’t need a poetic reason to want great photos.
You don’t need a mission statement to invest in your brand.
Sometimes you’re simply ready for change.
Sometimes you’re tired of shrinking.
Sometimes you just need a win.
And that’s enough.
Show up how you are.
That’s the story I want to tell.
When I’m behind the camera, I’m not asking for your “why.”
I’m capturing your power. Your presence. Your confidence—even if it’s still building.
You don’t owe the world a backstory.
You just need to show up.
And I’ll take care of the rest.
