Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made Of

In 2022, I made the exciting move to New York City. Everything seemed to fall into place effortlessly: I secured a comfortable apartment and found myself immersed in a thriving freelance market. I even embarked on a new romantic relationship, a first for me. However, the tide began to turn by mid-2023. The once-abundant freelance opportunities dwindled as various platforms faced funding cuts and the media industry experienced a downturn.

Fast forward to 2024, and my mom, the woman who gave everything to raise me, is experiencing some health challenges. It felt as though the universe was pushing me towards a change. Around the same time, I began to question my career path as a fashion writer. The continual need to be "on" and present everywhere was exhausting, and the ups and downs of the job application process, including interviews and rejections, took a significant toll on my mental health.

The allure of New York City, with its bustling streets, towering skyscrapers, and the promise of endless possibilities, was beginning to fade.

The vibrant and exciting metropolis of the past now felt overwhelming and chaotic. The constant noise, the crowds, the fast-paced lifestyle – it all started to feel like a suffocating burden. The city that never sleeps had become a source of anxiety and restlessness, and the charm of the New York state of mind was slowly giving way to a sense of disarray and unease. There was always this sense of living in a dream coupled with overstimulation.

Given the current state of the world—rising costs of living, shifting career landscapes, and the emotional weight of supporting aging parents—it was time for me to be so real with myself. Did I really need to be in New York to be a fashion writer? Because opportunities have been presenting themselves that aren’t tied to location or a timeline.

The answer became so clear to me — it was time to go home.

Shifting the Narrative: Embracing the Return Home as an Empowered Woman

For generations, the concept of moving back home has been shrouded in negativity, often perceived as a regression, particularly for women who have strived for and achieved independence.

I want to challenge this outdated narrative and reframe the return home as a conscious, empowered choice. This exploration delves into the multifaceted emotions associated with moving back home, dismantling the guilt that often accompanies this decision, and embracing the evolving role of a daughter as a source of strength and support for my family.

From a cultural standpoint, returning home is also a radical act of preservation.

In a society that often devalues Black familial bonds and misrepresents our communities, choosing to be close to kin is an assertion of our values. It’s about honoring the aunties who raised us, the cousins who feel more like siblings, and the grandparents who built legacies from scratch. Our family structures are ever-evolving, stretching to support and uplift in ways traditional Western models don’t always understand.

When we come home, we’re not just coming back to a place—we’re coming back to a lineage of resilience and love.

In This Economy…

The economic realities of today make this decision even more practical. Skyrocketing rent, stagnant wages, and inflation have forced many of us to reconsider what independence really means. Living at home, or closer to home, can offer the breathing room to save, strategize, and build with intention. But beyond the numbers, there’s an emotional currency we gain too.

Home can be a sanctuary—a space where we don’t have to code-switch, perform, or constantly explain ourselves.

In a world that often demands our labor but rarely affirms our humanity, returning home can be the most freeing, grounded choice of all. And in full transparency, there’s a part of me that felt shame about going back home to Memphis out of concern for how others would see it. Memphis isn’t as bright and shiny as Denver and New York, these big cities where I had created a life and made a name for myself.

But why should I care? No one is paying these bills and dealing with the ups and downs of working in fashion with me. It’s just me. I’ve finally come to a point where I realize that I can no longer live for the cheers because if I do, I will die by the boos.

I am most concerned with the way my life feels instead of how it looks.

I Thought I Was Failing — But I Was Finally Healing

With that said, I am now rebranding myself as a "stay-at-home daughter."

More than ever, I want to highlight the ways in which women can contribute to their families while also pursuing personal growth and fulfillment. This exploration feels like a way to inspire and empower women to embrace their decision to return home, shedding societal expectations and redefining what it means to be a modern daughter.

I have the deepest feeling that this chapter is going to be healing for me and my mother, and we deserve.

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