THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD LESS TRAVELED
I didn’t plan on receiving certain gifts from the universe this early, but there is always gold on the yellow brick road less traveled.
I've always been blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with the power of ambition. It seems a rite of passage to be asked the age-old question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” When it weaseled its way into my early youth, I couldn’t list my dreams fast enough. I wanted to be an astronaut (go figure), an attorney, an international singer, a pirate (only in the Disney sense), a conductor, and the owner of an upscale restaurant. I wanted everything my mind could dare to imagine.
Often, we feel that as we age out of the technicolor portraits of our youth and transition into the monochromatic canvas of adulthood, most of our dreams will remain just that—dreams. But I’ve never been one to conform or accept a fade into the monotony of stumbling survival and stability.
It took quite a long time for me to truly believe in my superpower. In September 2016, I was reluctantly adjusting to a new normal after returning from New York City, where I was a Viola Performance student at New York University. After a year of applying for scholarships amid culture shock, existential crises, and working through deep-rooted trauma, I couldn’t secure more funding for school and decided to stay home.
As a Black individual growing up in a society that is not as compassionate or forgiving to those with darker complexions, it was ingrained in me to be ten times better than my white peers. I wasn’t a 4.0 student, but my grade school resume was filled to the brim with AP classes, almost every honors and performing arts extracurricular you can think of, and numerous volunteer hours. To no longer have the opportunity to “keep up” with the friends (and maybe a few foes) around me was crushing. But I couldn’t allow the incredible gift of college debt to fall on my grandmother’s shoulders, which had already carried me through 12 years of grade school with love and encouragement. I had to push through.
Somehow, I managed to keep my dreams alive, little by little. I started researching articles and videos on sound engineering, production, and songwriting. I have been writing, recording, and releasing music professionally since I was 14. Maintaining relationships with former teachers provided opportunities to become a private teacher and collaborate with their students on their concerts throughout the school year. I kept my head down until my coffeehouse job grew into a restaurant job, which allowed me to upgrade and obtain equipment. I mastered my craft until I had art good enough to send to local venues. Many emails and follow-ups were sent—no responses back.
This period of my life spurred the adoption of my current motto: “If you don’t see a seat made for you, build a throne.” My 21st and 22nd birthdays saw me hosting parties across the street at my neighbor/boss’s home. I would take the day off to cook, bake, flatiron, or curl my hair, and rehearse. There was no better space to release the creative phoenix burning inside me than with the people teaching me to keep the flame lit. From there, one of my dreams began to come true.
Toward the end of 2020, I was exhausted with the feeling of stagnation and ready to accept that I wasn’t going to be the superstar I saw myself as. One evening, a friend sent me a link to the Amplify Fellowship, a new initiative launching in Southeast Michigan to uplift the voices of Black creatives in the area. I applied on a whim, thinking I had nothing left to lose. Not only was I accepted into the first cohort, but I also met people who saw music the same way I did. A few months later, my new album, The Black Satin Sessions, was reverberating through multiple stages and speakers in my city. I managed to earn Current Magazine’s Best New Artist award of 2021.
But before I could thoroughly enjoy the new high and plan out my next era, the rollercoaster of life took me back down into the dark. The following year, my grandmother, who had been fighting the progression of dementia, passed away. Shortly after, I began losing my voice. Singing had been the one instrument that got me through some of the hardest times of my life, and now I had lost the one thing that kept me safe and protected. All I could do was cry, pray, breathe, and keep going. To my surprise, this was the key to unlocking the creative block I’d been experiencing. I began writing, producing, and composing every day. I recorded voice memos as much as my voice would allow, hoping to bring them to life one day.
During this time, I decided that I could still use my gifts to uplift and inspire others. I had it in my mind to launch a music production entity because there aren’t enough safe spaces for artists to be vulnerable and focus solely on their art. It seems as though everything these days is performative marketing. As 2023 came to a close, I began hatching a plan to change this. Thus, Renivere Recording was officially born by the end of January 2024.
Building this company has not been without its bumps, but it has been the most rewarding accomplishment of my life to date. Through the bonds and relationships I’ve cultivated, I’ve been able to jump headfirst into producing, engineering, and coaching for local artists and venues. In less than six months, we’ve already worked on a few shows, a web series, and are sponsoring artists through an initiative I’ll formally announce later this year at a super secret surprise event. These achievements are beyond what I could have imagined for myself at this stage, and I’m grateful for all of them.
Taking the road less traveled has been a journey of unexpected gifts, relentless ambition, and unwavering perseverance. It has taught me that dreams, no matter how wild or seemingly unattainable, can be kept alive with determination and creativity. The path may be filled with challenges and setbacks, but it is also where we find the true gold—our unique purpose and the fulfillment of our deepest aspirations. So, if there are times when the yellow bricks don’t seem to be leading you where you want them to, take a deep breath and trust that what is for you is already yours to behold.
