What started as a creative celebration for Black Music Month evolved into something far more meaningful. It gave me a second wind at a company I’ve worked at for nearly 20 years, in a city I’ve wanted to leave since 2017.
As the North American lead for Kinfolk, the Black ERG at Warner Music Group, my role is to support the regional chapters in creating programming beyond one-off celebrations that check cultural boxes with little impact. While Toronto and New York are largely self-sufficient, I’ve been more hands-on with the LA and Nashville chapters.
In 2024, we planned the Kinfolk Writers Camp in Los Angeles, designed to offer Black songwriters, producers and artists a sacred space where collaboration, learning, and growth could truly thrive. We pulled it off despite corporate red tape and tight budgets, so we expanded the vision for 2025 with camps in LA, Toronto, and Nashville.
Full transparency: I’ve wanted to leave Nashville almost since I arrived in 2017 from Los Angeles.
It was a great professional move, yet a cultural purgatory. I’ve often felt out of place, missing my tribe back in California, all against the backdrop of a political climate where diversity, equity, and inclusion (terms that simply mean fairness) are being maliciously politicized. Still, I’ve stayed the course, sensing that, for whatever reason, I was called to be here.
Nashville is known globally for country music, yet its history often excludes the Black creators who helped build American music itself. So if I’m still here, I want to leave a mark rooted in purpose, creativity, and change.
This camp became exactly that.
The Kinfolk Nashville Writers Camp brought together 50+ Black songwriters, producers, and artists at Warner Chappell and Warner Music Nashville on Music Row, the historic street home to major and independent record labels and music publishers. What unfolded over the three days was amazing: collaborative writing rooms, honest conversations, spontaneous creativity, and educational panels that pulled back the curtain on publishing, sync, and the evolving Nashville scene. We even hand-selected a group of students from local HBCUs Fisk and TSU to participate, who rose to the occasion like the pros.
Some say it’s the first camp of its kind in Nashville, curated by and for Black creatives under a major music company. I can’t confirm that… but if it is, it’s bittersweet.
What I do know: it won’t be the last.
Behind the scenes, it wasn’t easy: budget challenges, a rapidly shifting political climate, and the unexpected loss of a company leader (RIP Ben Vaughn) brought real challenges. But the team (Jada Wilson, Benji Amaefule, Johnny Reynolds, Chandel Shanklin, Jalen Miller, and myself) pushed forward with passion and vision to create something bigger than us all.
And it mattered. The feedback from the participants was clear: this camp wasn’t just meaningful—it was necessary. One veteran exec was almost moved to tears, saying they’d never seen anything like it in Nashville. That moment affirmed what we knew: this camp wasn’t just meaningful, it was necessary, healing, and long overdue.
As long as I’m in Nashville, I’m committed to this work. The Kinfolk Writers Camp isn’t just a moment, it’s a declaration: that Black voices matter, and that our talents are worthy of being heard, valued, and preserved.
This was just the beginning.
