Rap Dreams
Hip-hop music has always been a source of inspiration and admiration for me. There's something about the art's unapologetic arrogance that I find liberating. It's the ultimate platform for your story, and rap artists do this with unparalleled rawness and authenticity. They speak of pain and suffering, resilience, and hope, and they do so with confidence and bravado that is socially accepted in the genre. It's no wonder that so many people use rap lyrics as captions under their social media posts; they want to hide their arrogance behind the lyrics of others. My rap dreams started early on in life—I used to always rap with my cousin Craig—who is exceptionally talented but, like many Virgos, gets in his own way. We would always sit in the car, listening and rapping to instrumentals—it felt good talking shit—and identifying with our favorite artists.
While the lyrics of money and fame were always inspiring, the lyrics that drew me in the most were those of profound vulnerability. I remember listening to J Cole's Classic Mixtape, "Friday Night Lights," and instantly relating. He told stories about his childhood trauma—his struggles as a young adult trying to make a way—and the grind it took for him to make it into the rap game. "Keep grinding, boy—your life can change in one year, and even if it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere." That lyric still sticks with me to this day. We as humans desire to connect—to relate to one another. It's an innate feeling that draws us into these artists. Just like those lyrics of arrogance, I wanted to express myself. Express my struggles, heartaches, fears, and insecurities, and the only way I thought this could be done was through the voice of rappers. Coming from where I'm from, this was the only form of expression socially accepted for Black boys.
The acceptable practice of sharing your feelings over 808s spoke to hip-hop's influence on the culture. I remember my mother, a third-grade teacher, repeatedly played "I Know I Can" by Nas for her class before they took their end-of-grade tests. The song detailed how black people could do and be anything that they wanted to be. Influence and motivation by someone with a microphone—it was powerful. My rap dreams had me grappling with the chance of influencing a generation of people while dying to express my feelings—to tell the world how I felt without being judged.
If you have ever worked with an artist, be it a rapper, designer, painter, or photographer, you will undoubtedly notice the vulnerability that permeates their art. Despite their talent, artists often reveal their insecurities through their work, allowing us to see them as raw and unfiltered. In my case, I had the opportunity to witness this firsthand while working with my cousin Craig during the creation of his first album, "Indecisive Nature," back in 2017. As I followed him with my camera, I captured photos, videos, and raw conversations surrounding the content of his album. Through this process, I saw Craig in a way I had never seen before - vulnerable, exposed, and fully immersed in pursuing his rap dreams.
We spent countless hours in the studio together as he recorded, performed, and engaged in radio freestyle battles, which he won. We even traveled to other states for shows where he would perform and give audiences a glimpse into his fears, anxieties, insecurities, and unwavering desire to succeed. Through the lens of my Nikon, I was able to witness greatness in the making. However, as any artist will tell you, sharing your insecurities is one thing, but overcoming them is another.
As a photographer myself, I have experienced this struggle firsthand. When I started, I often downplayed my work by saying things like "I do photography" or "I do it on the side." Looking back, I realize this was a sign of my insecurity. It was not until I began capturing vulnerable and intimate moments of people that I fell in love with photography. My favorite shoots involve maternity, engagement, and modeling, as they allow me to capture my subjects' raw emotions and beauty.
However, like many artists, I struggled with self-doubt and a constant need for validation. I would often compare my work to others on social media, and the fear of not being good enough sometimes paralyzes me for weeks, if not months. I could not break free from this cycle only when I discovered the power of intrinsic motivation.
Intrinsic motivation is the driving force behind our passion for something. As a photographer, I've learned that relying solely on compliments and likes on social media is a recipe for disappointment. Instead, I focus on finding joy and fulfillment by capturing beautiful moments and creating art that speaks to me.
Despite my own unfulfilled rap dreams, I have found great satisfaction in becoming a licensed psychotherapist specializing in trauma-informed care. I also serve as an assistant professor of counseling—along with some public speaking. I often speak to and train individuals on trauma and mental health. Providing therapy to adults, children, and adolescents is a gratifying experience, and I firmly believe it is much needed in the Black community. In many ways, I am not too far from my rap dreams as I continue to use my voice to inspire and uplift those around me—or at least, that's what I tell myself. I saw the parallels between the rap game and me as a mental health therapist. Before becoming a therapist, I only saw rappers as clients—individuals hurt by the community and families from which they've come or abandoned by a justice system that has let so many of us down. The lyrics from storytellers like Tupac, Meek Mill, Lil Durk, and Kendrick Lamar gave us insight into their lives or the lives of many of my clients—me even. I never saw the parallel between a rapper and a therapist until now.
Think about it—a therapist like rap artists have the ability and power to influence—they don't necessarily give advice but, through their own experiences, can provide direction—offer tools and techniques that help with the pain. Again, how many captions do we see under our posts from rap lyrics that remind us to put ourselves first—chase our dreams—and rid ourselves of negative energy? Their willingness to share what, in fact, makes them human allows us to connect to both our favorite artists and our therapist. No tool is greater than the use of Self Disclosure.
