Artist Statement
For years, I avoided addressing race directly in my art. Growing up in the late nineties and early 2000s, before movements like Black Lives Matter and DEI, race wasn’t openly discussed, especially in the art world. I inherited an internalized colorblindness—common in my generation—but over time, I realized it was a deeply flawed mindset. As a biracial person navigating between two worlds, confronting race became complicated and painful.
Being biracial meant facing the harsh realities of white supremacy. My Mom was disowned by her father for marrying my Dad and having me. I encountered both subtle and overt rejection, seen as a living reminder of a forbidden union. Alongside this rejection, I felt a pull to affirm my Black identity, to connect with that part of myself.
This tension between Black and White heritage reflects a broader historical dilemma. Mixed-race people have always occupied a contradictory space within America’s racial hierarchy. Light-skinned biracial people, often seen as privileged, were still never equal to their White counterparts. “Light-skin privilege” speaks to this, but no amount of privilege changes the underlying inequality.
A turning point came in 2017 when I attended a panel at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History. Former members of the Detroit Black Panther Party discussed race relations, and I first learned about the White Panther Party. Founded in 1968, they allied with the Black Panthers to combat fascism and support racial justice. Their interracial allyship left a lasting impression on me, sparking a shift in my art and my thoughts about racial equity.
That same year, the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville occurred. White nationalists marched with tiki torches, and a white protester, Heather Heyer, was killed. This event, alongside the ongoing police killings of unarmed Black men, forced me to confront racial inequality. I could no longer remain silent.
I immersed myself in Civil Rights history, focusing on debates between armed and nonviolent resistance. I also studied Black gun ownership, from slavery through Reconstruction, Jim Crow, and mass incarceration. This exploration was deeply personal. I understood how systemic oppression had shaped my identity and the world, and I realized my art had to confront these truths head-on.
In 2018, I unveiled Troublemaker, my first solo exhibition on racial inequality and police violence. Later that year, I presented Racism Sweet Racism, marking a shift in my work. I could no longer just comment on racial issues—I needed to confront the root causes of inequality that had shaped me and my family.
As I reflected on my life and experimented with new approaches, the trauma of police violence weighed heavily on me. I found inspiration in the Black Panther Party’s pride and power. Incorporating Panther imagery into my work, I created zebra-striped Panthers as symbols of self-love, empowerment, and resistance, culminating in Zebra Mane (2022).
Today, I paint almost exclusively in black and white. This palette speaks to racial polarization and the emotional toll of “black-and-white” thinking. It’s a form of rebellion—rooted in the painful history of race relations. As society moves toward integration, the need for antiracist allyship is greater than ever.
My work is an ongoing process of personal and collective reckoning. Through art, I confront inequality, healing, and reflection. Each piece I create is both a personal exploration and a call to action for racial justice. The journey is far from over, but through my work, I seek to carve out space for change.