Latoya Lovely: On the demands of single parenting, not apologizing for her child, and going big
Latoya Lovely: On the demands of single parenting, not apologizing for her child, and going big
Advice from a muralist
Meet our next creator, Latoya Lovely:
Latoya Lovely
Age: 41
Kid: James, 7
Location: Portland, Oregon
Vocations: Muralist, artist, educator, dancer
Link: Instagram
Perhaps you noticed that I did not publish last week. Frankly, I just needed a second to catch my breath. I’m a one-woman show, and The Creators Forum is my passion project that I do between and around freelance work and tending to children and cleaning up puppy piss (she gets SO excited when someone enters the room). But the beautiful thing about working for myself is that I can also be kind to myself once in a while. So I let myself have a week off. (Remember, if you enjoy reading TCF, the best way to help me keep it going is through a paid subscription and sharing.)
Now, rejuvenated, I’m thrilled to introduce you to my interviewee of the week, the muralist, artist, and dancer Latoya Lovely. A theme grew out of our chat that is akin to being kind to yourself. It’s about taking that mentality a step further and treating yourself as someone who is worthy—worthy of being where you are and who you are and taking up space and having a voice.
As women, we’re trained to be small (figuratively and literally) and not to make too much noise or fuss, all while being nice to look at, of course. But above all, we are not to be inconvenient. All of which, dare I say, is not all that different from how our culture treats children. Our society wants cute children who amuse us and love us but who don’t disturb anyone on a plane or in a restaurant or…anywhere, really.
This reminds me of a great interview that the musician Mitski did with Trevor Noah after the release of her album Be the Cowboy. She explains that the name of the album stems from her desire, as an Asian woman who feels like she has to apologize for her existence, to embrace the ethos of the stereotypical cowboy of old Westerns—the white, arrogant man who rides into town, breaks shit, and rides out a hero. If only we could all garner a touch of that sensibility in our day-to-day. It would make for a pretty great life mantra. Don’t take shit. Don’t apologize. And go big. Be the cowboy.
Latoya has gone on her own journey of finding her place and standing up for it. Early on, she didn’t take herself seriously as an artist; she didn’t call herself an artist. She jokes how she went to YouTube University to learn her craft. When she did go all in on being an artist, she started small. She started with work the size of a greeting card. She’s a single parent, and sometimes she would have to bring her son with her to projects, and she felt like she had to apologize for that.
But for her, like for so many, the pandemic exploded a lot of her previous perspectives. She’s now painting murals three times her size with her son hanging out, being part of the process. And she’s certainly not apologizing for any of it. She’s being the fucking cowboy.
Now, Latoya, in her own words…
On being told to get her shit together:
I frolicked around the campus of Western Oregon University, spending my parents’ money frivolously on an education that I had no idea what the hell I wanted to do with. I think I was at Western for six years. I really should be a doctor or something by now. I took only one art class, and my teacher’s name was Dr. Kim Hoffman. He got so frustrated with me one day. I was still trying to get my life together, and I would show up to class late. I would have assignments partially done. But one day, we were presenting this project, and I stumbled into class, the last person, with all my materials in hand and noisily slapped in my seat. And when it was my turn, it was just like this silence that was kind of reverent. He was just pissed. And he was like, and I’m paraphrasing, “You know, if you would just get it together, if you would just stop being lazy, you would be great.”
On the indirect, but creative, path to getting her shit together:
Western has yearly spring dance performances, and I went to an audition with my roommate. I was just there to watch, and then I decided to get up and kind of try it out. I was recruited by the dance company that is housed at Western, and then I became an apprentice. Then I became a member. We traveled nationally, internationally, and I did that for years.
When I had my son, I became an educator in special education because I knew I needed to have a job that worked with having a kid.
My last few years at Portland Public Schools, I worked primarily with a student who was nonverbal. And it was really hard for him to transition to different activities throughout the day. And my dance was what I really used with him. It was like a miracle that we discovered how much he loved to dance. And that would be a way to get him down the hall when he was stuck. No one else in the building could get him to where he was supposed to be. Just turning it into a song and a dance was a world changer for his little life.
On not letting fear dictate size:
I didn’t think about being an artist until years and years later. I would always paint. All that time working as an educator, I was drawing, making greeting cards. Trying to complete a painting was overwhelming, so I scaled it down to the greeting card. And I was like, this is it. This is how I’m going to have a business to take care of my son. But people told me, they were like, “These cards that you’re creating are masterpieces. They’re not going to sell for what they’re worth. You need to go bigger.” And I was just like, nope, that’s stupid, not doing it.
But during the pandemic, someone reached out to me after viewing my work on Instagram and asked me to paint one of the boarded-up windows. And from there, people started to see my art. And that’s how I got jobs.
I did a project for the new Multnomah County Courthouse, a collaboration with Alex Chiu and some other artists. And on my tour, which was part of my interview, Salvador, who works for Regional Arts and Culture Council, showed me the gates. There were these big, huge metal gates that are around the courthouse. And they’re just really beautiful designs. And he was like, “We actually had an artist who works with paper design these. And she just uses a piece of computer paper and just cut out designs with an X-Acto knife.” And I was just like, that is crazy. No matter what medium we work with and no matter how small it is, we sometimes don’t even know our own possibilities. And the fact that she started with just a simple piece of paper and a blade, and her creations are shepherding this building is just so incredible.
I think it’s amazing that I started with something small because I was fearful, and I’m now doing freaking murals taller than twice and thrice myself.
On rejecting capitalist parenting norms:
This society that we are in, that is ingrained in our souls and our blood, says that to be a valuable member of society, to be professional, to be respectable is to go to work. And your home life is your home life. You deal with that at home, outside of work. You have your breaks, you have your lunch, and that’s your personal time. And there are days where we are sending our kids to school when they’re not well, and even ourselves, because we are taught, by all means necessary, to make it to work.
As a single mom, it’s been really tough figuring life out with not having a partner there to stay home. You know, it’s always me. Whenever James had to be home, it was always me. Even though I now have a job where I get to make my hours and show up when I’m going to show up, I still had that mentality that I had to warn people or let people know if my son would be coming with me. Or I’d be asking for permission. And it would kind of be apologetic sometimes if I had to bring him.
But during the pandemic where everything shut down, you didn’t have a choice. Your kids were not at school. They were going to be there. And it really just freaking opened my eyes to the fact that it’s like, well, if I were working in the field as a slave, nobody would blink an eye if my son was there working with me, as long as I was being productive. But in this society, children are supposed to not be seen or heard. And I was just like, it’s not fair. It’s not how life is supposed to be. It’s not effective. It’s not healthy, and how does he feel about himself if he feels that he’s in the way or he has to be quiet during these times when Mommy’s talking to an adult.
I had no choice during the pandemic. I had to bring him. And he’s just so smart. All kids are. They’re so capable. I would give him little tasks, and I was surprised that he would be able to get these things done. And then when he was finished, or when he was bored, he’d go off and do his own little thing. I brought snacks, brought little activities. But he’s so social, he’d be more interested in talking to people than playing with a suitcase of things that I brought to keep him occupied. And it was a really beautiful process to rip from my body capitalism. And yeah, I don’t apologize. I don’t warn people any longer. I bring my freaking child because he’s an extension of me.
Thank you, Latoya, for sharing your story!
*Interview has been edited for length and clarity.