Bound To: A Story of Connection, Division, Legacy
This artwork is a love letter from Black women to Black men and from Black men to Black women. It carries both tenderness and truth. It is not just fabric connecting two heads, it is a meditation on the invisible string that binds us together even as we are pulled in opposite directions.
The Durag as Invisible String
When I created Bound To, I used a single durag tail to connect a Black man and a Black woman. They face away from one another, but the fabric insists on their bond. That durag tail represents what I call the invisible string, the connection between us as Black people that has survived centuries of attempts to cut it.
It is history. It is memory. It is inheritance. It is the thread of survival that remains even when division is marketed to us as progress.
The Narratives That Pull Us Apart
Turn on the TV, scroll through social media, listen to popular conversations, and you will find a steady stream of messages designed to pit us against each other. Black men are constantly told that success means leaving Black women behind. How many times do we see it? The successful athlete, entertainer, or businessman paired with someone outside his race, while the Black woman who supported, nurtured, or raised him becomes invisible.
On the other side, Black women are bombarded with messages that they are unprotected, unloved, and better off seeking love elsewhere. Talk shows, podcasts, and viral clips spread the narrative that Black men do not value their women, while others encourage Black women to give up on Black men altogether.
This is not accidental. It is part of a long tradition of media stereotypes and subliminal messaging that fracture our unity. The Strong Black Woman trope tells Black women to be everything without needing anyone. The absent or hypermasculine Black man stereotype robs men of vulnerability and responsibility. These are not just “roles,” they are wedges, keeping us suspicious of one another instead of invested in one another.
A History of Unity in Adversity
And yet, if we look back, our history tells a different story. During the Jim Crow era, when the law itself tried to strip us of dignity, it was the unity between Black men and women that sustained us. Families found ways to endure under terror. Black-owned businesses flourished in communities like Tulsa’s Greenwood District. Black women’s clubs and mutual aid societies provided education, healthcare, and political advocacy when no one else would. Black men organized, built, and defended these communities with them.
In times when we had every reason to collapse, we built. We created legacies in the face of adversity. Even in separation and enforced division, we chose each other, and out of that choosing came excellence.
The Question of Bound To
So I return to the image. A Black man. A Black woman. Turning away, yet tied together. This is the tension I wanted to capture. Because right now, we are at a crossroads. The invisible string is still here, but will we follow it, or ignore it?
Bound To asks: are we bound to love, or bound to separation? Are we bound to legacy, or bound to repeating the narratives that pull us apart?
The Power of Choosing Each Other
When we choose one another, when we resist division, we build beauty. Not just art, but families, communities, movements, and futures. The invisible string does not only tether us, it guides us back to each other. That is where excellence begins, where legacy is built, and where inheritance continues.
This art piece is not just about a durag, not just about two heads, not just about fabric. It is about the larger story of us. About remembering that what is better than one durag is two. What is better than walking apart is building together.
This is a story of connection, of division, and ultimately, of legacy.
Bound To is my offering, my reminder, my challenge. That we return to the work of choosing each other again.