We Are The Stories We Tell by Vanessa Thomas-Wilson

I believe we are the stories we tell. If we tell a victim’s story we are the victim, likewise the hero. Life has shown me that when we allow others to tell us what our story is we abdicate our power. Through crafting story I have made several discoveries about myself, my family, my place in my professional and social circles and in the world - and I’ve only just begun - again.

I grew up in a household of artists. My mother was a classical pianist and a milliness, her mother was a clothes designer, and my grandfather was a gifted gardener and baker. My grandmother’s older brother was a master storyteller. Only he didn’t tell stories - he told epics. His tales could last an entire weekend. He could break for a meal and pick up right where he’d left off. His tall tales were all about life on his farm - stubborn crops, sick or unruly animals which always yielded to his whispered magical incantations. All were told in his South Carolina drawl which made them even more fantastic and eyeglazingly interminable.

Growing up as a young Black girl in New York City attending private schools far from my neighborhood during the climate of the mid-1960s Civil Rights Movement in America was an epic in itself. I was Blessed knowing I was loved and safe even though the world didn’t seem like a very safe place for anyone I knew. I was the well-groomed product of Strivers and Determination. But those who grow up as I did are often challenged to find their place in the world. The world seems surprised we exist demonstrated by phrases such as, “I don’t think of you as Black” or “You’re Black, but you’re not Black-Black” and “You’re so articulate” or “You’re one of those Uppity Negroes” (the last being accusatory rather than false praise).

I’ve painted and refined my self-portrait along life’s journey and have been comfortable standing in my truth most of my life. I share my stories to express my multifaceted being and invite others to find commonailty and difference while standing in their own truth.

The picture at the top is Vanessa's mother, Barbara Thomas, circa 1963.

Comments

[Marilee Lasch]

I don't think of you as a colored..negro..African American...I see you and think of you as a beautiful lady with the gift of telling a story in the most elegant ways. I am so proud to have met you and heard your stories.

[Karen Burns]

Beautifully said Vanessa.Thank you for sharing your story, it does bring commonality and understanding. Thank you for your openness!