I don’t know my body anymore. Actually, through ongoing research and countless failed visits to the doctor I know it better than I ever have and yet it doesn’t feel like mine. Its equilibrium is out of my reach. Basic pleasures like eating and touch, are oftentimes painful. Many women (especially Black women) are affected by endometriosis, including generations on my mom’s side. In fact, Black women and femmes experience a myriad of reproductive issues at higher rates than non-Black people. And given that gynecology was created through the exploitation of non-consenting enslaved African women, seeking care as a Black woman is inherently difficult. 

 27 is a site-specific installation that combines sound, painting, drawing, and photography. This work embodies my process of understanding my experience in the context and intersection of science, Black people, and exploitation. It is an ode to the women who raised me. It is grace. Self-portraiture, an important cultural moment, and family archives are interwoven to contemplate the intersections between the body, mothering, and the lasting legacies institutionalized oppression.