My [Former] Life as a Photographer

I probably get close to five calls per week from people asking about photography. And every time I have to remind them that I don't shoot anymore, I feel a little bit of guilt. I stopped shooting last spring and officially closed my business on it's 4th birthday in September. Yet, there are still moments that I feel like I did the wrong thing. 

I'm sure you're asking "But why did you stop shooting?" and "Why did you close your business?"

The simple answer: I didn't enjoy it anymore. 

My brother and sis-in-law on baby #2. New baby coming in 30 days! 

The not-so-simple answer below: 

I've wanted to be a photographer for as long as I can remember. In the 5th grade I was given the school's disposable camera and told to take photos of my classmates for the school newsletter of which I was also the "editor". I took that job seriously. By the end of the week I still had four pictures left on the roll and had decided to leave those for individual shots of myself and the other "writers". What kind of kid was I? Neurotic. 

Fast forward to high school and once again I was asked to become one of the photographers for my school. This time, it was for the yearbook of which I was Co-Editor. Same as before I took that job way too seriously; I even coaxed my parents into buying me a Canon SLR for my 16th birthday. I was hooked, but never considered it more than a hobby.

It wasn't until I'd graduated from Howard with a degree in broadcast journalism that I realized I had a real passion for both photography and film — one of the two things I should have majored in. 

So, with a degree in my hand and the looming start of law school before me, I made the choice to do the thing I loved. I canceled my law school plans, moved back to the "great" state of Alabama and used the money from a summer job to buy everything I needed to start a photography business. My parents, ever supportive, encouraged me every step of the way. 

I was happy. And within one month of starting my business I had booked two weddings. 

One of my all time favorite couples and friends.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking this is no indication of how things ended, but I need you to know how much I loved photography. 

Fast forward three years and there I was sitting at my computer working on budgets and returning emails thinking I hate this. People were booking me, but canceling the same day even though they knew they wouldn't get their deposit back. Others were showing up at their shoots, seeing their preview sites and raving about how much they loved the photos, but never purchasing a single one. Or worse, taking screenshots and posting those. Still, the best group were those who just wanted me to post their wedding photos on Facebook (and tag them, of course) in hopes that it would lessen the cost. 

It just didn't make sense. People said they loved my images, but told me that I charged too much? Don't you pay for things that you love?  I wouldn't budge on my prices. Sue Bryce, Sarah Petty and Amanda Holloway had all told me in one way or another that I shouldn't charge less than I deserve. Plus, they all lived in small towns, too. What was wrong with me?

I wanted to quit right then, but I read a few Sarah Petty blogs and watched a few Sue Bryce classes on Creative Live and decided to forge on. 

Then the BIG ONE happened; the moment that I knew this was becoming too much. Another local photographer started messaging people on Facebook who would comment on my photos asking about pricing, sessions, etc. and telling them pretty bad lies about myself and my business. I cancelled on people, didn't show up for sessions and never gave people back their money. None of these things ever  happened, but when you live in Small Town, USA reputation trumps facts any day. 

I had no clue this was happening, but I did notice that people who had reached out said nothing when I sent them my beautifully designed welcome guide and pricing menu. It wasn't until a friend of mine and a local business owner both had an encounter with one of these couples that I found out. I was exhausted and tired of it all. 

Gorgeous little model and actress who is headlining a bullying campaign now!

I decided to do one more round of senior session as a last effort to redeem my business. I even lowered my prices for the first time ever. This ended in a mom dropping her daughter off at the location and never returning because she didn't have the money to pay me the remainder of her balance, which usually meant that I wouldn't shoot. Yet, how do you look at a kid whose parent just drove off and tell them we're going to just stand here until she returns with my money? I shot that session. It took six months and another mutual friend intervening for me to even hear from this lady again. I really just wanted her daughter to have those pictures. I had already written it off at this point, so I declined her offer to pay. My business was closed. 

Local MUA and one of my cousins who is doing AMAZING things. 

Today: 

I miss shooting. I miss branding. I miss watching Creative Live like a crazy lady so that I can get better at my craft. But I think I made the right decision. And all's not lost. I still get to shoot thanks to my brother and sister-in-laws ever growing family and my little church sisters forcing me to shoot their weddings this year. So, for now, that will have to do.

And honestly, I think it all worked out for the best. I have great new projects that I'm working on and I'm really very grateful for all of my former clients. Good, not so good and everything in-between.

Have you ever had to quit something you loved a lot? Was it worth it? Do you regret it?

Always in love, 

Whit

What I Think: OWN's Light Girls

Last night, I rushed home from the annual Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. event I always sing at to watch the follow-up to Bill Duke's Dark Girls –aptly titled Light Girls. Of course, I'd heard mixed opinions about the documentary from "why are we still talking about this?" to "light skinned women don't have problems". I, however, share neither of these sentiments.

Colorism is a problem, not just in the Black community, but definitely in the Black community. And as a woman who has experienced the perils of colorism and who has seen its effects firsthand, I never shy away from the topic. I grew up in Alabama; the heart of the Civil Rights movement and probably one of the most racially divided places in the nation. It, also, is a place where the ideals and practices of colorism still linger in the Black community.

Even in my own family, I have heard twisted compliments of being pretty for a dark skinned girl and watched the subtle mistreatment of myself and my mother while my aunts and cousins with lighter skin were praised. And unfortunately, I noticed it early as my sister and all three of my childhood best friends were light skinned. I can't count the amount of boys who told me my lighter friends were prettier or who would flirt with me but date them instead. And even teachers who would spend time holding said girls while playing in their hair as I watched on confused. Did I cry as a result? No. But did I notice that there was trend? Absolutely.

Even my lighter friends themselves made comments or sly remarks about me being darker. Even they were convinced they were prettier than, not just me, but definitely me. And unfortunately, I would bow to their idea of truth for most of my life. YET, I still don't think they weren't met with their own set of challenges or that any of this was my young friends' faults. People constantly hating them for perceived arrogance or girls trying to fight them for hair that would swing is just as wrong as people ignoring or taunting me for the exact opposite reasons.

Thus I think Light Girls was needed.

But here's my problem with Light Girls versus Dark Girls: the story was told from a very superficial standpoint. Their only problem can't JUST be that people were calling them pretty or stuck up. That cannot be the extent of their experience with colorism. In fact, I know it isn't. Which is why I'm glad they also talked about the feelings of inadequacies and not being Black enough and the constant asking of "what are you?".  But I felt like these moments were so limited.

When I watched Dark Girls, even the moments that didn't relate exactly to my experience struck me. As I watched Light Girls, I struggled to see the connection between their comments and my perceived purpose of the documentary. And maybe that was the real problem. Maybe the purpose was never made clear. Was it just to inform me that Light Girls have problems, too? If so, great. Or was it to show me that there was a commonality in our experiences? Or what? I get it was a conversation starter and I'm all here for that. Let's talk about it. Let's get over it. Let's heal. But, don't skim over the real issues if you want to produce a documentary. Give us some help in starting the conversation. Don't make us feel more polarized than when we began.

And why were there so many men? Where were the mental health professionals? Why didn't we talk about the privileges? And why was there no talk of white supremacy?  Also, I love bloggers (hello!), but I wanted to hear more from people who are out here doing the work and studying the topic. This can't just be opinion based. There has to be some knowledge and ideas about real solutions.

Perhaps this is where the conversation begins. Maybe this is where we pick up; where our kitchen tables, church pews and classrooms come into play.

All in all, I appreciate that the discussion on colorism has a platform. I appreciate the fact that we are finally brave enough to speak about those old wounds that have, unfortunately, held us back. I don't know if people will erase #teamlightskin or #teamdarkskin from the bios of their Twitter profiles just yet, but at least we're talking about it.

What were your thoughts? How did you feel about #LightGirls? Let me know in the comments below or Tweet me @whitandlove!