INSIDE
A Letter From Editor Sonia Montalvo, Editor-In-Chief
A Business Class Love Story
Celebrating Success with Dr. Lisa Woolfork and the Stitch Please Podcast
Navigating Life’s Challenges:
An Interview with Pamela Coleman
The Man Behind the Beat
Embracing Imperfection
How Being an Image Consultant Taught Me the Power of Looking Silly
“You’re One of Us Now”: Buying My First Gun & Becoming “American”
A LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
As I reflect on the stories gracing the Winter issue of Vinegar Hill Magazine, I’m struck by a recurring theme: resilience expressed through art, advocacy, and community. Each piece reveals a unique journey, reminding us how creativity and courage can transform individual lives and enrich our shared experiences.
Our feature on Trauma Tone invites you into the creative mind of a music producer whose beats have made waves in the industry and have added another notch into Virginia’s musical history.. From working with notable artists to crafting his unique sound, his career highlights his drive and the mark he continues to leave on music.
In another powerful narrative, we sit down with Pamela Coleman, an author and mental health advocate whose transparency about her struggles has inspired countless individuals. Through writing and outreach, she shines a light on the importance of mental health, especially for African American men, a topic too often shrouded in silence.
Finally, we celebrate the success and vision of Dr. Lisa Woolfork, host of the acclaimed podcast “Stitch Please.” Through her work, she not only elevates the craft of
sewing but also builds a community that centers and celebrates Black women, girls, and femmes. Her journey from starting her podcast to earning accolades reveals how passion and purpose can create spaces of belonging and recognition.
These stories remind us that even when life feels uncertain, our ability to create, connect, and advocate remains steady. I hope their journeys inspire you to embrace your own resilience and lean into the transformative power of community and creativity.
I encourage our community to continue sharing these stories with us. As the new year approaches, we are actively seeking new writers and photographers to join us in amplifying Vinegar Hill Magazine’s mission of celebrating and elevating diverse stories, culture, and achievements. If you’re passionate about storytelling and creative expression, we’d love to hear from you.
Warmly,
Sonia Montalvo
Editor-in-Chief, Vinegar Hill Magazine
by Michaela Franklin
A BUSINESS CLASS LOVE STORY
I am a huge proponent of flying Business/First Class. Unless there are absolutely no other options, I would prefer to never fly economy again. #Bougieandproud. As the airline industry increasingly scales back amenities such as in-flight meals and leg space, (as well as itemizing every single pound of luggage you bring), more and more, it seems like Business/First class looks increasingly attractive. (In other words, Steve Harvey was right!)
The obvious con? Clearly, the price. However, there’s a couple of hacks you can use without making your wallet cry:
1. You can bid for an upgrade. In some cases, after you book your ticket, you can bid in an auction for a seat. I’ve done this a few times, and I’ve upgraded for as little as $70!
2. Last minute upgrade. Wait until about a week before the trip. Many airlines often cut prices to fill unsold seats, so by this time, they are often available at a steal.
3. Points/Miles. Some credit cards/ airlines offer loyalty points you can redeem towards the fare.
The biggest advantage of flying Business/First is EASE. For example, I’m #TeamOverpack. Most Business/First fares allow for at least 30kg (70 lbs), or more for luggage. I love shopping and bringing gifts back home when I travel, so not having to worry about whether I’m going to wear a few extra layers of clothing from my suitcase to avoid fees is an immediate stress release! #IYKYK
● Check in time: I hate rushing. Business check-in usually requires less time. I’ve gotten to the airport 80 minutes before an international flight, and still made through with time to spare *NOTE: EVERY airport ain’t created the same. Do not try this for example at ATL or LAX. You WILL be watching your flight take off from outside the club for sure.*
● Priority Security and Boarding: Usually the queues for Business/ First class check in/immigration are much shorter, especially for international flights. So, no standing around in line waiting for 1-2 hrs to get your passport checked!
● Lounges: Listen; being able to stretch out on a chaise, drink a glass of champagne, or have an entire private room for yourself before or between flights is wonderful. Some Business/First Lounges even offer free massages.
I recently had the opportunity to visit Al Safwa First Class Lounge for Qatar Airways. It did NOT disappoint. It has its own check-in gate and provides direct shuttles to your gate. So, no sprinting across the airport trying to slide before they close the cabin. Here you can have a nice glass of Rose, whilst waiting for your flight taxi to arrive.
There were also actual hotel rooms available inside. The layout was much like a museum with paintings and figurines dotting the long hallways. A gorgeous waterfall located in the center of the lounge added an air of calm and peace to the already comforting atmosphere. The design was an ode to Qatari culture and their incredible focus on architectural design.
● Comfort: I’m a long-legged lady, being able to stretch out on a GODSEND. Especially on longer flights. I recently joined the 40 and over club, so my circulation and joints thank me every time I descend.
● Food: I LOVE food. This is my opus. Normally business class gives very much restaurant with the food choices. Being able to enjoy lamb chops, a juicy sirloin, caviar, or a full plate of prawns, with a tiramisu for dessert brings so much joy to my day. Also, the wine options, especially on long flights are usually a decent range.
● Unexpected perks: Networking at 35,000 feet: Need a business funded? Looking for an investor? Or just plain old need life advice? THEE CONVERSATION. Listennnnnnnnn. This is probably my second favorite aspect of flying Business/First!
You really get your weight in gold through simply, talking!
● Oftentimes, especially frequent Business/First fliers, are well traveled. Many are fellow entrepreneurs. I use these flights as an opportunity to further my network and industry knowledge.
I often meet many long-term business owners, and just through conversation, I have been left with incredible professional gems of advice that I still use to this day.
As noted earlier, I’ve flown business on a number of airlines, (Singapore, Oman, KLM, Jordan, Egypt, FlyDubai, Vistara, etc etc) So far, Qatar Airways definitely takes the W. (I haven’t had the chance to do Emirates Business/First yet, and I heard that it’s the best product on the market. Singapore
was definitely a close second to Qatar, so we will see.) Below is my experience for my first time with Qatar Airways Business Class. (Aka: The Q Suites!)
Customer service: 10/10. Hands down the sweetest crew. The reason for my travel was that I was transporting my mother’s remains for burial. Once the crew learned that I was the passenger flying with remains, I was immediately moved to a larger, central suite so that my partner and I could be next to each other. They didn’t have to do that, and it was super appreciated. They also checked in frequently, often leaving warm notes and words of encouragement.
Food: 9/10. Decent selections and good portions. The only reason why it didn’t get 10/10 is due to the tea selections. (Singapore definitely tops the list here. They legit had 40 tea selections.)
Dranks: 10/10 mainly because of the unlimited bubbly.
**For reference:
Aircraft: Airbus 350
Flight: WV 667/WV 6045 MCTDOH-IAD
All in all, though it may be a pretty penny, with Business/ First Class what you will get in convenience and peace, it is well worth the price of admission!
P A C K A G E S
Full-Page Annual Package
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Half-Page Annual Package
-4 Print half-page ad (full color)
-Online banner ads (see sizes on page 4) full color - these rotate online and can be switched out throughout the month
-4 printed magazine copies
-Total cost for the year $628.00
1/4 Page Annual Package
-4 Print 1/4 page ad (full color)
-Online banner ads (see sizes on page 4) full color- these rotate online and can be switched out throughout the month
-4 printed magazine copies
-Total cost for the year $508.00
DIGITAL ADS
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2 Mock ups
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CELEBRATING SUCCESS
WITH DR. LISA WOOLFORK
AND THE STITCH PLEASE PODCAST
Vinegar Hill Magazine sat down with Dr. Lisa Woolfork, the dynamic host of the acclaimed podcast “Stitch Please.” Recently recognized by the New York Times and a recipient of multiple prestigious awards, Dr. Woolfork shares her journey of passion, creativity, and community building within the world of podcasting. From the challenges of starting a podcast to winning accolades, Dr. Woolfork offers insights into her mission-driven work that centers and celebrates Black women, girls, and femmes in sewing.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: Dr. Woolfork, thank you for joining
us. Can you share a bit about the recent recognition your podcast, “Stitch Please,” has received?
Dr. Woolfork: Absolutely! It’s been an exciting time. Recently, “Stitch Please” was featured in the New York Times as one of seven podcasts to help people develop a hobby. It was a delightful surprise since I wasn’t contacted beforehand. Additionally, we won a gold-level trophy for Best Hobbyist Podcast and a Listener’s Choice award at the Signal Awards. It’s been a whirlwind of recognition, and I’m incredibly grateful.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: That’s
amazing! Can you tell us more about the Ambie Awards and what they mean to you?
Dr. Woolfork: The Ambie Awards are like the Oscars of podcasting, organized by the Podcasting Academy. They recognize excellence in podcasting across various categories. I was thrilled to win in the DIY category, especially considering the competition from big names like Oprah and major networks. It’s a significant
Vinegar Hill Magazine: How does it feel to receive such prestigious awards?
Dr. Woolfork: It’s incredibly validating. When I started the podcast, I thought it would just be me and my mom listening. To see it grow and receive such recognition is beyond what I imagined. It’s a reminder of the importance of community support and the power of passion-driven work.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: Speaking of passion, what advice would you give to aspiring podcasters, particularly Black podcasters?
Dr. Woolfork: Start with a manageable schedule and structure that you can handle alone. It’s crucial to focus on your passion and keep your eye on your own paper. Your podcast should be driven by a message or topic that brings you
joy or fuels your fire. This focus will sustain you through the challenges and help you build a dedicated audience.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: Your podcast seems to weave together various elements. Can you elaborate on that?
Dr. Woolfork: Certainly. “Stitch Please” is about more than just sewing. It’s about stitching together academic, activist, and artistic threads. I explore Black women’s sewing as a means of liberation and self-expression, connecting it to broader themes of Black life, culture, and creativity. It’s a metaphorical quilt, with each episode adding a new layer to the conversation.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: What’s next for you and “Stitch Please”?
Dr. Woolfork: I’m currently working on two books. One is an academic study on Black women’s sewing as a tool for self-determination, and the other is a more publicfacing exploration of how sewing empowers Black women today. I’m also focused on expanding the podcast’s reach and continuing to celebrate the vibrant community of Black women in sewing.
Vinegar Hill Magazine: Thank you for sharing your journey with us, Dr. Woolfork.
NAVIGATING LIFE’S CHALLENGES:
AN INTERVIEW WITH PAMELA COLEMAN
In a world where personal struggles often remain hidden beneath the surface, Pamela Coleman stands as a beacon of resilience and transparency. As an author and advocate for mental health, Pamela has transformed her life’s challenges into a source of inspiration for many. In this exclusive interview, originally aired on the “Defying Gravity” podcast, Pamela shares her journey of overcoming adversity, the power of writing, and her mission to support mental health awareness, particularly among African American men.
Q: Pamela, thank you for joining us. Let’s start with your background. Where are you from?
A: I’m from Charlottesville, Virginia, specifically Washington Park. Growing up there had its good and bad moments. I was an awkward child who struggled to find where I fit in. I wasn’t looking for a clique, but I didn’t fit anywhere, so I kept to myself.
Q: How did you navigate that feeling of not fitting in?
A: I never really found my fit, even at 58. I tried to force myself into situations that I thought would work for me, but it took more out of me than just being by myself. I have days where I feel extremely alone, but I have to be cool with me because I have two kids and a grandchild to show up for.
Q: You’ve faced significant personal losses. Can you share how you overcame those challenges?
A: It started in 2012 when I buried my grandmother and handled her
finances. In 2014, I found my dad on the bathroom floor and had to bury him. My mom passed in 2016, and less than a year later, my husband died. Processing all that was tough, especially dealing with my relationship with my mom. She was the mom she could be, but not the one I needed. After she died, I wrote a letter to her and put it in her casket, but it wasn’t enough. I started journaling, which eventually turned into a book.
Q: How did writing become a tool for you?
A: Writing was therapeutic. During COVID, a coworker read my journal and encouraged me to publish it. That’s how my first book came about. It was a way to process my experiences and share my story with others.
Q: You mentioned being a functioning alcoholic from middle school to college. Can you elaborate on that?
A: I started drinking in middle school, thinking it would numb my pain like it did for my mom. I would drink before school and even take alcohol with me. It wasn’t until college, when I woke up in a dorm lobby with no recollection of how I got there, that I realized I needed to change.
Q: What inspired you to focus on mental health, particularly for African American men?
A: After realizing I was a mental abuse survivor, I researched and found that 63% of African American men don’t seek help for mental health. That statistic drove me to
focus on this issue. I organized a men’s mental health seminar and published an anthology called “Unspoken: It’s Okay Not to Be Okay,” featuring essays from 26 black men.
Q: What advice would you give to your younger self?
A: I would tell her not to take her mom’s actions personally and to seek help for both of them. Mental health wasn’t talked about when I was growing up, but it’s crucial to address it.
Q: What’s next for you?
A: I’m working on more books and planning a “Brothers Who Brunch” event to create a safe space for men to discuss mental health. It’s about providing support and resources to those who need it.
Pamela Coleman’s journey is a testament to the power of resilience and the importance of mental health awareness. Through her writing and advocacy, she continues to inspire others to confront their challenges and seek the help they need. Her story reminds us that even in the face of adversity, we can find strength and purpose.
By Sonia Montalvo
THE MAN BEHIND THE BEAT T
he deep punchy 808 bass drum of Yo Gotti’s 2013 Hit Single I Know, sent the masses to the dance floors to flex in the bravado of the song’s beat drop and the lyrics. Featuring the late Rich Homie Quan’s legendary voice, the song became a cultural staple hitting #31 and spending 21 weeks on Billboard’s Hot R&B and Hip-Hop Charts. With 182 million views, the song’s existence lies behind the genius and gritty production of Charlottesville native, Trauma Tone.
The 34-year-old producer who prefers to go by his self-appointed moniker, first popped on the production scene around 2010. Prior to his entry in the game, he had been creating beats for some time in his hometown, creating a buzz for himself in the city. Taking his time in high school to perfect his craft, his most vivid moment of realizing he was on to something came during his sophomore year. “What I will say is, I think it was a song that an artist at the time, which is my homie who I love to this day. His name is Nick. He did a song, and, like, it was my tenth grade year and I remember this, everybody was playing it. Even the people we had problems with growing up- I remember them pulling up to the school playing the song. I was like, ‘This must be what it feels like to have a big song.’ A few years after his graduation, Tone ventured to Atlanta to expose himself to a bigger market. At the height of Rap’s Mixtape Scene in 2013, what solidified Trauma Tone’s place in the game for him had to be his first song with major recording artist at the time, Chicago’s ambassador drill rapper, Chief Keef. This song
was placed on Chief Keef’s mixtape ‘Almighty So’ which dropped after his commercial success in the mainstream with hits like, ‘I Don’t Like.’ For the last decade plus, Trauma’s song credits have continued to grow and so does he as he continues to take on the job of becoming one of Hip-Hop’s hidden-in-plain-sight gems of the production game.
With influences like The Alchemist and Dr. Dre, Trauma Tone’s earliest memories outside of spending part of his childhood in the studio with older family members, was being gifted the gift of music. “My mom, had us like, we was the Death Row house. She had us all on Tupac. The first gift I ever owned in my life was
a single [Cassette] of Snoop Dogg’s Gin and Juice. Dr. Dre is definitely like one of them influences, you know, one of my favorites growing up.”
Trauma’s ultimate goals as a producer are to leave a musical legacy behind and to create music identifiable with where he’s from. Interestingly, with Virginia debatably having very few identity markers in one significant musical influence or sound, Tone’s predecessors of musical greats may have shaped it this way on purpose. Virginia is home to several legendary producers in the industry. Timbaland, Missy Elliott, Pharrell Williams, The Neptunes, and DeVante Swing—Trauma Tone
is quite literally standing on the shoulders of giants. Each of the these legendary artists could be considered snowflakes in the music industry because though they all hail from the same state, none of them have similar sounds to one another or any of their musical counterparts for that matter. As time progresses, each of their sounds doesn’t even allow them to sound like their previous work. Take for instance Missy Elliott. With no production of hers sounding quite like the other, Virginia Legend Missy Elliot gave us hits Supa Dupa Fly in 1997 and Lose Control in 2005. Two sonically different songs eight years apart, with the ability to move her fanbase all the same. Comparable to the Virginia legends before him, Trauma Tone further proves that the sound of Virginia is not a sound at all, but a feeling. With household hip-hop names under his belt like Migos, Kevin Gates, Rich Homie Quan, NBA Young Boy, Curren$y, and others, Trauma Tone is navigating through his music career in a similar fashion. “We [Virginia] got like a lot of different influences, because we’re right in the middle, of the north and the south, but like our bounce is different. When you look at people like Timbaland, Pharrell--I think we just got a different vibe to us. It’s hard to really explain the sound because I don’t want to put us in a box, but I just think that the bounce is just a little different. We are very versatile, all of us. You can pretty much come to any of the Virginia producers for any type of sound, especially if you’re trying to push it forward. I think it’s always gonna be some envelope pusher type of shit. “
https://www.youtube.com/ watch?reload=9&v=DoKWtCDAcPY
Trauma Tone shares that his new endeavors and collabs are special to him. Recently he started his music label, Which Way Is Up, affectionately named after a 1970s comedy of the same name starring Richard Pryor that his mother introduced him to as a child. “That name always stuck to me because it’s like me and my manager joke about it all the time. Now, when people call us to fix shit, we’ll always be like, ‘Man, they don’t know which way is up.’ Like, they don’t know which way to go. You know, but I feel like I’m the guy for my circle[and] for my network. I’m the one that people call.” He states the creation of his label comes from the business knowledge he began attaining during the Covid-19 Pandemic. The producer creates his newest projects under his label with the most current project being a joint album with him and Louisiana Rapper Curren$y. “We do our projects in-house. We do everything on our own. I didn’t really understand none of that type of stuff on the independent side until I got with my manager and started learning about that earned income. So, I just think once you learn the game and like, you find different ways- it’s a million ways to skin cat, find your lane.” While nervous to share any names, Trauma’s excitement tends to flare when he talks about his upcoming 2025 projects.
At a perfect pace, Trauma Tone’s production credits are making him a household name in the music industry, but he doesn’t wish to stop there. Tone has his eyes set
on scoring movie soundtracks and writing scripts. To end this article, it’s important to note that Trauma Tone stands behind believing in your own delusions of self. When asked what it took for him to get to this place, he exclaimed, “I was feeding my crazy, man, probably a little bit of delusion in there, but like, you couldn’t tell me, I wasn’t gonna be who I said I was gonna be. Even when everybody was like, “Oh yeah, it’s not gonna work,” or, “Get a job” and all that, I was just like ‘fuck what everybody else is talking about. I know who I am, and I know that no matter how long it takes, and I still got a ways
to grow, but I know who I am, and I know what I’m trying to get’”I was feeding my crazy, man, probably a little bit of delusion in there, but like, you couldn’t tell me I wasn’t gonna be who I said I was gonna be. Even when everybody was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s not gonna work,’ or, ‘Get a job,’ and all that, I was just like, ‘Fuck what everybody else is talking about. I know who I am, and I know that no matter how long it takes— and I still got a ways to grow—but I know who I am, and I know what I’m trying to get.’ ”
EMBRACING IMPERFECTION
HOW BEING AN IMAGE CONSULTANT TAUGHT ME THE POWER OF LOOKING SILLY
by Khalilah Jones
In a world obsessed with pictureperfect aesthetics, you’d think an image consultant would be all about polished exteriors and flawless presentations. But if there’s one lesson I’ve learned in this career, it’s that perfection is a myth—and not only that, it’s an obstacle to genuine growth. Being willing to look a little silly, to make mistakes, and to try things that might fail has actually been my biggest asset, both personally and professionally.
Let’s face it: stepping out of the comfort zone and trying new things is risky. There’s always that nagging fear of embarrassment or judgment. But I’ve come to understand that each misstep or goofy moment actually plays a critical role in guiding me toward creativity, resilience, and a fierce sense of self. Whether I’m working with a client on defining their
unique style or setting a personal challenge to take on something new, that courage to experiment fearlessly has fueled my journey. Innovation Means Leaving the Safe Zone
One of the biggest misconceptions about being in a creative field, like fashion or image consulting, is that it’s all about getting things “right.” But creativity doesn’t flourish under the weight of expectation. In reality, it’s the space where mistakes are made that offers the richest soil for innovation. The times I’ve stretched beyond my comfort zone are the times I’ve learned what really works—and what doesn’t. It’s taught me that real style, and real substance, are born from risk and trial, not rigid rules or ideals.
This willingness to embrace experimentation has made me a better stylist because I understand what my clients might fear. Maybe they’re anxious about standing out too much, or perhaps they’re scared to try a bold color or unique pattern. And because I’ve been there—feeling awkward, uncertain, and yes, a little silly—I can guide them through it with empathy and encouragement.
Perfection is a Trap, Not a Goal
Letting go of perfection hasn’t been easy. Society teaches us to aspire to it, particularly in appearancefocused fields. But striving for perfection often just leads to paralysis. What I’ve learned through image consulting, and through my own life, is that perfection is, at best, a mask. It’s a wall that keeps us from connecting with others and prevents us from truly exploring
I’ve learned to view myself, and others, through a lens of radical self-acceptance. Radical doesn’t mean “anything goes”; it means embracing our quirks, our mistakes, and our idiosyncrasies as the very things that make us unique. When I approach my work—and my life— with this mindset, I create space for others to do the same. I’ve found that self-acceptance is contagious; when I let go of unrealistic standards, it encourages my clients to be kinder to themselves, too. The Power of Looking “Stupid”
This one’s personal. I’ve found that some of my most enlightening experiences have come from times I felt out of my depth or even downright goofy. You know, like that time I signed up for a hip-hop heels dance class, fully convinced I’d be giving fierce, effortless, baddie vibes—only to end up tripping over my own feet and laughing so hard I forgot to actually dance. Or when I decided I’d master a new crochet-braiding technique in one night, only to wake up the next morning with half the braids chilling peacefully on the pillow next to me, mocking my ambition. Turns out, my journey to “leveling up” looks more like a blooper reel than a highlight reel, but hey, growth doesn’t happen on the easy road, right?
Looking “stupid” in these moments taught me something priceless: we’re all learners in this life. Embracing that gives me the courage to keep exploring, both professionally and personally. I’ve found that my clients are drawn to this authenticity. They’re not
looking for someone who has it all together; they’re looking for someone who understands the journey and respects the struggle.
Creating a Safe Space for SelfExpression
As an image consultant, I’ve seen
that embracing imperfection is a practice in empathy. When I’m open about my own journey, the challenges I’ve faced, and the silly missteps I’ve taken, I create a safe space for clients to express themselves authentically. In this space, they feel encouraged to explore styles that are genuinely “them,” not just what’s trending. They feel empowered to take a risk on a look that expresses their unique personality, knowing that style is about discovering who they are—not just presenting who they think they should be.
Moving Forward with Radical SelfAcceptance
So, where does this leave me? Embracing imperfection has guided me toward a philosophy of radical self-acceptance. It’s about showing up, flaws and all, and encouraging others to do the same. It’s about stepping into new opportunities—personally, professionally, or stylistically— with a spirit of curiosity and courage. And ultimately, it’s about rejecting the myth of perfection in favor of something far more real, meaningful, and human.
If I could leave one message, it’s this: don’t be afraid to look silly in pursuit of something great. The world doesn’t need more perfect facades; it needs people who are willing to be real, to try, to fall, and to keep getting back up. Because in the end, it’s not about what we look like—it’s about how bravely we live.
“YOU’RE ONE OF US NOW”:
BUYING MY FIRST GUN & BECOMING “AMERICAN”
By Darnell Lamont Walker
Buying my first gun felt like a collision of identity, fear, and history. Guns had always been distant, abstract symbols of something that didn’t belong to me, but rather to others — their way of navigating the world, not mine. It wasn’t just about the weapon itself; it was about what it represented.
Especially for someone like me, raised in Charlottesville, Virginia, a place that pretends it’s not as racist as it is but consistently showed me a side of itself others refused to believe existed until 2017 when some of America’s greatest racists showed up to a mass cry fest about the statues the city planned
to remove, buying a gun felt like stepping into a version of America that had always seemed wary of me.
Charlottesville was a peculiar place to grow up Black. It’s the kind of place that wears civility like a mask, hiding the ugliness underneath.
People often talked about progress, unity and equality. But there was a dissonance between the rhetoric and the reality. On the one hand, it wanted to be perceived as this liberal Southern town, but on the other, it continually showed me just how conditional that warmth was. I’d been followed in more stores than I can count, stopped by police while riding my bike through the University of Virginia because they couldn’t understand how my folks were able to afford it, I had a teacher in High School ask me if I was sure I was in the right place when I walked confidently into his honors course and been told by well-meaning
rally when my white friends started using the #NotMyCharlottesville hashtag to publicly defend the town they love while my Black friends sat back thinking, “Hasn’t Charlottesville always been like this?”
Charlottesville was mild. Daytona Beach, Florida, where I went to college, was far more blatant in its embrace of intolerance. Daytona didn’t bother with the polite veil of progressive values that Charlottesville had. It wasn’t subtle. The racism there was in your face, proud, and unapologetic. I felt it when the racists showed up in the city to attend a neo-Nazi music festival and yelled “nigger”
Back then, I thought I knew what fear was, thought I had built enough armor to protect myself from the violence that could erupt at any moment. And because I didn’t handle racism well then, that armor was necessary for when I’d black out in rage. In some ways, that rage kept me from ever thinking I’d should own a gun. I’ve seen what I could do with my bare hands. I didn’t want to take it any further than that.
The years between college and recent years were sometimes wild, but mostly mild. The world is still the world, people are still people, and my rage has filtered itself into creativity
Then came 2020, a year that reshaped the country in ways none of us saw coming. The pandemic, the election, the protests — it felt like the country was boiling over, every fault line exposed. That November, I left New York City, a place where I had felt relatively safe, and moved to a cabin in the Chattahoochee National Forest in North Georgia. It was supposed to be a retreat from the noise, from the chaos. It was supposed to be peaceful.
My dad, though, didn’t see it that way. The moment I told him about the cabin, he immediately offered me the shotgun he kept in plain sight in case of emergencies. As I passed through my hometown on the way to Georgia, driving a van filled with everything I owned, he pressed it on me, out of fear. He had done his research on the politics of the area and wasn’t reassured by what he found. Just days before the cabin purchase went through, I learned that 78% of the county I was moving to had voted for Donald Trump, a man who publicly stated there were “good people” among the white supremacists who’d walked with tiki torches through the areas I played as a kid.
I don’t believe that supporting Trump automatically makes someone racist. I’ve always believed that nuance exists, and that people are complex. But what I do believe is that to support Trump, you have to be okay with racism. That was hard for me to swallow as I drove further south, moving into an area where people clearly didn’t view racism as a dealbreaker.
My dad, knowing this, was scared for me, and I was a little scared for myself. But I forgot the shotgun, leaving it behind as I made my way to my new home. Part of me didn’t want to think about what it meant to bring a weapon into a place that I hoped would be a refuge. Some other parts of me joked with friends, telling them the thing that would probably make me safest in the area could be something as simple as a MAGA sign in my yard. They’d see me as a non-threat.
Not so surprisingly, the first few years at the cabin were peaceful. I settled in I even made friends. Some are locals — incredible folks who welcomed me with smiles and phrases like, “if you ever need anything, you just holler.” I had conversations about politics, about the world, about where we stood on certain issues. It was important to me to know where they stood, but also let them know, as Robert Jones Jr. once said, “We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity.” They saw me, and I saw them and the quiet of the forest allowed me to breathe, to forget the chaos I had left behind.
Owning
a gun
never
felt necessary. Even after I made a documentary in 2015 called Seeking Asylum, which told my story of America — my story of racism and fear — I still didn’t feel the need to own one. That film was my way of processing the trauma, of understanding the world I lived in, but it didn’t compel me to arm myself. To that point, I wonder how the film would have been different if I had an inkling of who the Electoral College would
choose to run the country the following year.
But recently, something shifted. I don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but the thought of owning a gun started to take root. It wasn’t like a switch flipped; it was more like a slow burn, a realization that maybe the world wasn’t as safe as I wanted to believe. I must note here that I truly believe the world is a beautiful place. There happens to be some ugly people occupying some of the spaces.
When a friend I was hosting during his escape from Hurricane Milton mentioned, offhand, that I should consider buying a gun for safety, my immediate thought was, “You’re right.” And that’s how it started — the journey that led me to a gun shop.
The store was a pharmacy and gun shop combined, a strange juxtaposition of healing and harm. When my friend and I first walked in, the place was empty — just us and a couple of workers behind the counter. But as we browsed the glass cases filled with pistols, revolvers, and rifles, more people started filing in. Some had their kids with them, little boys trailing behind their dads, helping to pick out a gun — even pretending to fire them at the wall. It felt surreal. I had never been in a space like this before, where guns were discussed as casually as groceries. Where owning a gun seemed like an everyday, expected part of life.
I spent about an hour learning about every gun in the case. Some looked familiar — like the ones I’d seen in Clint Eastwood or John Singleton
films — but I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. The worker was patient, and I could hear joy climbing out of his voice as he went on explaining the differences between each one, telling me stories about how reliable each model was, how it felt in the hand. I asked questions, trying to sound knowledgeable, but deep down, I wasn’t sure why I was there. Was it fear? Was it just the feeling that I needed to fit into this version of America that seemed to be crumbling?
After much deliberation, I settled on a Magnum 357. It just felt right in my hand, heavy and solid, like it could offer protection. Like it could be trusted.
The worker ran the background check, sliding my information into the system. I slid my card through the machine, feeling the weight of what I was doing but trying to ignore it. Then, the worker handed me the gun.
In that moment, something shifted inside me. I felt more American than I was comfortable with. It was a strange, unsettling feeling, like I had just stepped into a new identity, one that I wasn’t sure I wanted. “Now you’re one of us,” the worker said, his tone light but the meaning heavy. I was conflicted. What did that mean?
I grew up hearing phrases like “You’re not like the rest of them” from white people who thought I was somehow closer to them than to my own folks. It always felt like a backhanded compliment because that’s what it was — them telling me I was okay for a Black boy. Was that what this man meant?
Did owning a gun make me more American, more acceptable in the eyes of people who had always seen me as an outsider? I didn’t know. I grabbed the box and left.
The gun sat on the counter, in that box for a little over a week. On October 17, 2024, I went to the gun range and shot my gun for the first time. I’m still trying to make sense of it, of what it means to own a gun in a country that has always made me feel like I needed protection from it. I’m still figuring out who I am in a world where violence is so often the answer, and where owning a gun feels like both a necessity and a betrayal of the peace I’ve fought so hard to find.
In the meantime, I’m learning how to use it, making it a part of my life. Before I pulled the trigger the first time, I thought maybe it should have stayed in the box, a symbol of a decision I made in a moment of uncertainty, a moment where I wasn’t sure if I was protecting myself from the world or becoming a part of it in a way I never wanted to be.
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