There’s something precious about growing up black in the country. True living, true surviving, raw existence. The little, timeworn structures may not appear to be much to virgin urban eyes, but they are engulfed with soul, culture, and history that can’t be calculated.
In the last two years I have learned and accepted a lot about myself. While figuring out who I am, it was necessary for me to remember where I came from. I want to introduce the world to who I am. I grew up in a small village that’s part of a small parish in Louisiana. Many have no idea it exists among many others, and that’s a shame because the people there are something special and should be seen as such.
Wild Child is presented the great memories of my childhood growing up black in the country. This form of living is simple, but also liberating. It captures how my environment expanded the curiosity in me and nurtured my soul. As I found myself going back to what was at a certain time everything I once knew, I saw the drastic changes. The film reveals the inevitable truth that is change. Although many things changed and a lot of things that were connected to my memory were either gone or evolving into something else, the history remained. There’s luxury in the country.