When I first started this journey in music, I believed my main job would provide the platform I needed. Cue Young Thug. I thought I was being smart, and in many ways I was. Working was the smart decision. I started working at 16. It was not really a choice. It was something I had to do. At the same time, I was attending the BRIT School. Travelling from Southend to Croydon every day meant waking up at 5 AM just to make it in. It was exhausting. There were times I accidentally fell asleep in class and got punished for it, but my body was simply worn out. Those £20 train tickets, plus Oyster money, were not going to pay themselves. I was constantly putting money toward travel, lunch, and basic survival. I did not earn enough to buy proper music equipment, sometimes not even any equipment at all. I was studying media, something I originally did not want to do. I wanted to study music. However, I was advised that media would make me stand out and make me different. I believed having a job would create opportunities for me. Unfortunately it only gave me just enough to survive. Just enough. Being surrounded by kids, and even adults because I have been in the art scene for so long, breeds a certain kind of insecurity and jealousy. Especially when you are a Black Caribbean British woman with no contacts and no one willing to simply point you in the right direction. Meanwhile you are surrounded by people who cosplay the very struggles you are actually living through. I have poured a lot into my music financially, emotionally, and spiritually. But the reality is that my finances were still not enough. I do not have flashy music videos. I cannot afford to go to the studio every week. It is simply not financially possible. So I record from home. I am stuck in a cycle where I need to work extra hours to fund my dreams, but those same extra hours rob me of the time I need to actually live them. The list of suggestions people give me keeps growing, but no one asks where the money is supposed to come from. I have children. My time and finances go toward them first, and barely toward myself. I look at my Pinterest and say "this is cool BUT WHERE'S THE MONEY COMING FROM BOO?". I just hope my art can just be felt and so can the intention. I feel like giving up. Been trying since 18. The dream is starting to feel like what it is. A dream. Art is for the elite and those who are smart enough to lick the right asses.
