Ujima Cultural Solutions

25/06/2026

Artists do not burn out because we lose passion.

Many of us are burning out because the systems around us ask too much and support too little.

I’ve been sitting with The Choreographic Condition, a new report from the Creators in Dance Summit. It focuses on choreographers, but so much of it applies across the arts.

Artists are expected to create the work, fund the work, promote the work, document the work, explain the work, and keep finding the next opportunity before we’ve recovered from the last one.

And so much of this labor is invisible or undervalued. The hours spent building relationships, navigating applications, and holding communities together rarely show up in budgets or recognition, even though they are essential to making the work possible.

Then, when people are exhausted, we call it a boundary issue.

But sometimes burnout is a sign that the conditions are not sustainable.

That’s part of why I’m building Taproot: a space for artists, cultural workers, and creative leaders to feel less alone, share real-world strategies, and talk honestly about how we keep going without losing ourselves.

Because we do not just need more opportunities.

We need stronger roots!

Join Taproot!: https://discord.gg/wrwKFyYjQb

Choreographic Condition Report:https://static1.squarespace.com/static/683a5d822301250ba829907c/t/6a0da53a435dda79b9733475/1779279162734/The%2BChoreographic%2BCondition%2B-%2BFindings%2Bfrom%2Bthe%2BCreators%2Bin%2BDance%2BSummit%2B2026%2B-%2BMay%2B2026.pdf

Taproot is a digital community for creatives building connected, sustainable lives together. Rooted in care, curiosity, and collective possibility, it’s a space for conversation, co-working, mutual support, and real connection. | 26 members

05/06/2026

I’m forming the “We Don’t Trust Qifrey” campaign. He’s shady af!

05/06/2026

Going to the TCG conference in San Juan? Don’t conference alone.

I made a small group chat on Discord for folks heading to the conference who want a lower-pressure way to connect before and during the week.

Join here: https://discord.gg/hasdFjZmZ4

You can use it to find someone to attend a session with, grab coffee or lunch, share practical updates, debrief after programming, or just know a few friendly names before you arrive.

I’ll also be speaking as part of the 2026 Advocacy Intensive. The frame for both sessions is simple:

Your Story Is Your Power.

You don’t have to attend my sessions to join the group chat. If you’re going to TCG and want a softer way to connect, you’re welcome.

Hope to see some of y’all in San Juan!

01/01/2026

Where have you been taught to underestimate your power?

Thanks to for inviting me to their Governance Forum late month.

31/12/2025

What regenerative systems have you built into your business?

Ujima is changing — because I am.

Being a solopreneur means accepting that your work can’t be static if your life isn’t. It means operating fluidly and creatively, while staying within the ethical and professional boundaries you set for yourself—without contorting into someone you’re not in service of a business that’s supposed to serve you.

Do you work for the business,
or does the business work for you?

Over the past year, my life shifted in ways that asked me to slow down and take a deeper look at who I am and how I want to show up. When I tried to return to Ujima in the same form it once had, it no longer felt aligned—and that dissonance mattered.

I was still deeply committed to supporting creatives.

I was still drawn to coaching.

But the consulting work I’d been doing around community engagement wasn’t where my energy—or the moment—was pointing anymore.

Creatives already excel at engaging community.

What’s often missing is infrastructure:
the systems, containers, and supports that make sustainable creative lives possible.

At the same time, I was beginning my master’s in social work, which gave me a new lens on how systems shape our lives—especially work, burnout, and survival within an extractive economy. I was also revisiting my earlier research and asking what it had really been pointing toward.

The answer kept returning to the same place:
Creatives are being asked to navigate a brutal economic landscape largely on their own.
Gig work.
Global competition.
Rising costs of living.
No safety nets.

And yet—so much brilliance, care, and cultural value emerges anyway.

Offline, many artists thrive because of local ecosystems that hold them.

Online, that kind of support is fragmented—or missing entirely.

I believe transformation requires honesty—about ourselves and about the systems we build. And I don’t believe we should deprive the world of its transformation just because we’re afraid to let our businesses change.

So Ujima is evolving to meet that reality.

31/12/2025

Ujima is changing — because I am.
Being a solopreneur means accepting that your work can’t be static if your life isn’t. It means operating fluidly and creatively, while staying within the ethical and professional boundaries you set for yourself—without contorting into someone you’re not in service of a business that’s supposed to serve you.
Do you work for the business,
or does the business work for you?
Over the past year, my life shifted in ways that asked me to slow down and take a deeper look at who I am and how I want to show up. When I tried to return to Ujima in the same form it once had, it no longer felt aligned—and that dissonance mattered.
I was still deeply committed to supporting creatives.
I was still drawn to coaching.
But the consulting work I’d been doing around community engagement wasn’t where my energy—or the moment—was pointing anymore.
Creatives already excel at engaging community.
What’s often missing is infrastructure:
the systems, containers, and supports that make sustainable creative lives possible.
At the same time, I was beginning my master’s in social work, which gave me a new lens on how systems shape our lives—especially work, burnout, and survival within an extractive economy. I was also revisiting my earlier research and asking what it had really been pointing toward.
The answer kept returning to the same place:
Creatives are being asked to navigate a brutal economic landscape largely on their own.
Gig work.
Global competition.
Rising costs of living.
No safety nets.
And yet—so much brilliance, care, and cultural value emerges anyway.
Offline, many artists thrive because of local ecosystems that hold them.
Online, that kind of support is fragmented—or missing entirely.
I believe transformation requires honesty—about ourselves and about the systems we build. And I don’t believe we should deprive the world of its transformation just because we’re afraid to let our businesses change.
So Ujima is evolving to meet that reality.






What regenerative systems have you built into your business?

31/12/2025

Ujima is changing — because I am.

Being a solopreneur means accepting that your work can’t be static because your life isn’t. It means operating fluidly and creatively, while staying within the ethical and professional boundaries you set for yourself—without contorting into someone you’re not in service of a business that’s supposed to serve you.

Do you work for the business,
or does the business work for you?

Over the past year, my life shifted in ways that asked me to slow down and take a deeper look at who I am and how I want to show up. When I tried to return to Ujima in the same form it once had, it no longer felt aligned—and that dissonance mattered.

I was still deeply committed to supporting creatives.

I was still drawn to coaching.

But the consulting work I’d been doing around community engagement wasn’t where my energy—or the moment—was pointing anymore.

Creatives already excel at engaging community.

What’s often missing is infrastructure:
the systems, containers, and supports that make regenerative creative lives possible.

At the same time, I was beginning my master’s in social work, which gave me a new lens on how systems shape our lives—especially work, burnout, and survival within an extractive economy. I was also revisiting my earlier research and asking what it had really been pointing toward.

The answer kept returning to the same place:
Creatives are being asked to navigate a brutal economic landscape largely on their own.
Gig work.
Global competition.
Rising costs of living.
No safety nets.

And yet—so much brilliance, care, and cultural value emerges anyway.

Offline, many artists thrive because of local ecosystems that hold them.
Online, that kind of support is fragmented—or missing entirely.

I believe transformation requires honesty—about ourselves and about the systems we build. And I don’t believe we should deprive the world of its transformation just because we’re afraid to let our businesses change.

So Ujima is evolving to meet that reality.







What regenerative practices have you built into your business?