The Why Behind the What: Cameras, Community, and the Stewardship of Memory
Recently, I found myself deep down rabbit hole comparing cameras, gimbals, flying cameras, drones, batteries, storage drives, and enough accessories to make my Amazon cart question all my life choices.
I was preparing myself for Amazon prime day and the competing sales that pop up (I did find something good before and it ended up even better later but that’s another post for laterš¤š).
At first glance, it could have looked like I was trying to decide what new thing to buy next just buy somethingš« .
But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t really thinking about the cameras at all.
As a whole, I was contemplating about stewardship.
Growing up, my Mommy has always told me:
“Know the why behind the what.”
That lesson has stayed with me my entire life.
Not only did I grow up in the church, my Daddy was faithful in his service to his church until right before he passed. It’s wasn’t lost on me what leadership and stewardship meant from a young age so I have been around that word a long time.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that many of our decisions become clearer when we understand the reasoning behind them. That purchase. Those goals. The dream you have. That project. The journey. The what is easy to see. That why usually takes a little more digging.
For a while, I thought I was simply becoming a content creator.
But that’s not exactly all of it.
What actually excites me isn’t the cameras themselves. It’s the vessel that allows me to capture and preserve Us.
The laughter.
The conversations.
The rides.
The gatherings.
The everyday moments that seem ordinary today but become a part of history tomorrow.
As a Black woman born and raised in and around the Washington, DC area, I’ve watched neighborhoods shift and change; people come and go; traditions evolve or evaporate; and communities continue to create joy in spite of every challenge placed before them.
I have also seen communties uprooted and eradicated and only the memories and photographies in someone’s grandmother’s home hold what used to be but will never be no more.
So much of our story gets told by other people.
So much of our history gets reduced to headlines.
So much of our humanity gets flattened into stereotypes.
But when you document your own community from the inside, something different happens.
You preserve the feelings.
Not just what happened.
But what it felt like to be there.
What it felt like to laugh with friends.
What it felt like to ride through the city.
What it felt like to gather, celebrate, and simply exist. Just be.
That’s why I became excited about documenting Stunt Sundays, community events, DC culture, family moments, and everyday regular boring life.
Not because every moment is extraordinary.
But because ordinary moments become extraordinary with time.
One day, my children and their children may watch these videos.
I want them to see how we lived.
How we spoke.
How we dressed.
How we gathered.
How we loved.
How we built community.
All this thinking made me realize that documentation itself can be another form of stewardship.
Not just stewardship of money.
Or property.
But stewardship of memory.
Stewardship of culture.
Stewardship of connection.
Stewardship of legacy.
The cameras are simply the vehicle for the feelings.
The real goal is preserving our presence and our essence.
And that’s my whys behind my what.
