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Growing up in Tacoma, Washington, as the oldest of five children, my identity has always been shaped by a legacy larger than myself. My family’s history is rooted in community — in feeding it, serving it, and standing with it. My father owned Porters Place BBQ, a beacon in Tacoma until 2012. It wasn’t just a restaurant; it was a place where generations gathered, where people found comfort in food and in the warmth of our family. It was Black-owned, Black-built, and deeply rooted in the belief that community care is radical and revolutionary.

After my father passed, I returned from college to a Tacoma that had changed in many ways — gentrified, more polished on the surface, but still carrying the same spirit I knew as a child. It looked different, but it still felt like home. The echoes of my family’s legacy lived on, and I felt a responsibility to honor that legacy — not through BBQ, but through social work.

Today, I stand not behind a counter, but in community clinics, churches, meetings, and advocacy spaces — doing the same work my family taught me to do: to serve, to fight, to heal. I am a Black social worker, and I carry my parent’s voice in everything I do. They taught me that dignity matters. That showing up for people is the work. That feeding bodies and feeding souls are not so different after all.

But my path has not been easy. Being Black in the social work field — especially as a Black woman who also lives with a disability — has meant navigating a system that often tries to define me by what it misunderstands. During the height of COVID-19, I experienced racism in its most raw and violent forms: I had objects thrown at me. The police were called on me — not because I posed a threat, but because my presence in certain spaces as a disabled Black woman disrupted the narrow boxes people expect us to fit into.

​Instead, it became the fuel for a new chapter — one where I use my lived experience as expertise. Where I speak up for others who’ve been silenced or stereotyped. Where I create space for disabled, Black, educated professionals who are not anomalies, but part of a rich legacy of resilience. I do this work in a city that raised me, in memory of a father who poured love into ribs and cornbread, and in defiance of systems that once tried to erase me.
Now, I work for an agency that not only sees me but amplifies me. I'm part of programmatic and policy efforts that seek equity, not as a buzzword but as a practice. I get to help shape services that center clients' lived realities, advocate for anti-racist healthcare, and mentor the next generation of social workers — particularly those who’ve never seen themselves reflected in power before.

Now, I work for an agency that not only sees me but amplifies me. I'm part of programmatic and policy efforts that seek equity, not as a buzzword but as a practice. I get to help shape services that center clients' lived realities, advocate for anti-racist healthcare, and mentor the next generation of social workers — particularly those who’ve never seen themselves reflected in power before.
In many ways, I’ve learned that weaponizing memory is about more than remembering; it’s about using memory to build. It’s about reclaiming our family stories as roadmaps for the future. It’s about holding space for Black voices — past and present — so that we don’t just survive but lead.

Later, Woo had me laughing out loud and cheering for the couple when the slave catchers sent to return the Crafts to Georgia, and back to the bonds of slavery were thwarted by the courts, Craft's legal team, and a large crowd of protesters in the north disgusted with the institution in the south. Instead of apprehending the fugitive slaves, the slave catchers were themselves arrested, "Hughes and Knight were charged with slander for having called William Craft a slave and thus "causing damage to his business and character, and for carrying dangerous weapons with the intent to assault William." After they were let out on bail, "…new posters were made up to alert all of Boston. "SLAVE HUNTERS IN BOSTON!!!" the handbills screamed. They included unflattering physical descriptions of the Georgians, with the kinds of information about size and color usually found on public notices for escaped slaves." (pg. 230)
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Facing Uncertainty After a Stroke
When I emerged from a month-long hospital stay after I experienced a major stroke, I found myself uncertain of my new world and my place in it.
 
The world hadn’t changed, but I had. The uncertainty was about whether I could pick up the pieces and move on with my new brain injury-related disability.
 
You know that feeling when you walk into a room and realize you don’t remember why you walked in? After the massive stroke I experienced, I felt like I came to this planet, but couldn’t remember what for. It was very awkward and very unpleasant at times.
 
I wasn’t quite confident my new self could navigate through the old world where I had been quite comfortable with myself and my abilities. I was quite sure I could do it if I could just face the challenges to come with my old confidence and self-assurance.
 
But how was I ever going to do it in my new disabled state? After a short readjustment phase, I found the answer.
 
The Power of Acting Confident
I remembered the advice from my younger years that had served me well throughout my previous life, from a (then) well-known actor.
 
In an interview he was asked about overcoming stage fright and what he did to get over it. His answer was to just act like someone with confidence.
 
It sounded kind of simplistic, but that really struck a chord; it sounded right to me. I took that bit of wisdom to heart and ran with it. It got me through a lot of awkward situations.
 
And now here I was in one heck of an awkward situation, being a stroke survivor with an acquired traumatic brain injury.
 
Visualization and Self-Programming
I can tell you what I did, and that it worked for me (again). I can’t guarantee the same result for anybody else, but if I could do it, anybody should be able to.
 
I would lie in bed at night with my eyes closed and tell myself I would face the world with complete confidence, in all situations, and no matter what.
 
I would also visualize myself in different situations acting with complete confidence. I picked someone I admired and kind of “programmed” myself to behave in the manner he modeled. I couldn’t be him, so I had to come up with my version of how he behaved. I visualized carrying myself with confidence, poise, and self-deprecating humor.
 
I also visualized people telling me they had noticed how I approached situations with calm and poise. In my head I “overheard” people making comments about me in that vein.
 
I formed a kind of image in my head of coming off as smart, funny, approachable and fun to be around. I could do that, I thought; I could see a mental image of myself being that way. But I knew deep inside I would always basically be an introvert and still be living in my head.
 
Visualization and Self-Programming
I try to strike a balance between being bashful and socially confident: I learned all over again to be an extroverted introvert (psychologists call a person like this an ambivert).
 
In other words, though I was still often painfully introverted, I could be extroverted when the situation required it.
 
Before long, it was common for people to tell me that if they hadn’t already known I’d experienced a massive stroke, they would never have guessed it.
 
I would say that one of the most important things to remember about acting confidently is don’t overdo it; don’t overcompensate. And keep it realistic. Outwardly become the person that lives inside you—don’t try to be something you could never realistically hope to be.
 
Psychological Concepts on Confidence
That leads to two more concepts, both from psychology. They’re known as the Dunning-Kruger effect and impostor syndrome.
 
The Dunning-Kruger effect concerns how people rate their own competence. People with lower levels of competence often overestimate their competence, while highly competent people often  underestimate theirs. In my mind, the ones who overestimate themselves are likely more on the obnoxious end of the scale, while those who underestimate themselves tend to be more likely to lack confidence and hold themselves back.
 
The Dunning-Kruger effect has its critics, but I pretty much agree with the simplified interpretation I just laid down here. It just intuitively feels right to me.
 
The other concept is called the impostor syndrome.
 

My Thoughts on Black History Month: A reflection on the journey in Washington State Black History Month serves as an essential reminder of the rich heritage, struggles, and resilience of African Americans throughout history.  Living in Washington state, I have either witnessed first-hand the progression and complications of the African American experience from the 1930s to the present day, or have had stories passed down to us for protection.  As my family celebrates nearly 100 years of residency in this remarkable state, I can’t help but reflect on how far we have come, while recognizing that the journey is far from over.

In the 1930s, the landscape for Black Americans in Washington was laden with systemic racism and social inequities.  Despite the state’s physical beauty and the promise of opportunity, Black individuals often faced discrimination in housing, employment, and education.

​Communities were segregated, and those who dared to challenge the established order frequently encountered violence and hostility.  The 1940s onwards saw some progress with the contributions of Black soldiers in World War II, as well as the early Civil Rights Movement’s slow, yet impactful, advances.  Yet, the inequalities persisted, creating a paradox of apparent progress alongside the tenacious grip of discrimination.

With over 20 years of experience in vocational coaching, mentoring, and leadership, he exemplifies dedication and resilience. Growing up during extreme segregation, his journey is one of perseverance and purpose. Born to incredible parents who were also sharecroppers in the South, Terry and his family traveled to WA., where he was determined to transform the world with his labor of love. He has never stopped moving- working tirelessly to impact the lives of those he serves positively. Terry is not as well known as MLK, but he makes just as powerful an impact by serving and uplifting marginalized voices.