This isn't just a storefront; it's an altar. Here, my personal raw testimony is laid bare.
I didn't come from support. I didn't grow up in safety. I didn't have the kind of family that cheered me on or held me when I broke. I was raised in emotional silence. In violence. In absence. I was medicated instead of nurtured. Punished instead of heard.
My parents did what they knew, and I’ll always acknowledge that. There were moments of provision, and I know they wanted good for me in their own way. Sadly... provision isn’t the same as presence and what I needed: emotional safety, spiritual guidance, and unconditional love, never came; Not from them.
People take healthy family love for granted. I just knew I had to survive without it.
And somehow, I still kept showing up.
I found my voice through the pain by my internal creative voice and wild imagination and came to murals by accident or certain circumstances. I kept returning to them, not because they were easy but because they became my sole source of survival and creating, using my artistic voice, healed me in ways people couldn't. Sadly, the more success I found, the more I realized that "success" is not often what we REALLY want, and it sure doesn't protect you from exploitation. I've had my work stolen, my spirit drained, and my voice ignored when I got vulnerable, which was A LOT with my generational trauma and the lack of vocabulary to even use my own voice; that's when people took the most.
There was a time when I lived in a beautiful house, thinking I would marry someone with status and wealth; that relationship brought trauma, too, being sexually assaulted more than once... subtly but clearly, by someone who didn't respect my body. It wasn't violent in the ways people expect, but it was violating. I stopped feeling like a person. I felt like an object.
So, I acted out. I became promiscuous with people in the art scene and people in positions of power. It wasn't about desire. It was about reclaiming control over my body and choices; even then, I was still being used, still being overlooked.
Then came another relationship with a person who was significantly older than me (I don't know who needs to hear this but AGE ≠ WISDOM), who drank with me constantly and hated everyone I worked with. I eventually also became an alcoholic, drinking and doing drugs daily just to just feel SOMETHING other than my own emotions and reality. I was carrying my trauma, my family's absence, my partner's resentment, and still trying to make art. He resented my gigs, resented my people... and it tore me down.
Then, the pandemic hit; I finally went full-time as an artist, and that's when everything got even louder. The performance of allyship in Austin, the fake support, the pressure to be visible, palatable, and profitable while being Black, queer, and SEVERELY hurting. I was doing big murals and getting big opportunities, but the real support never came from the community I really needed when it mattered the most.
Yet, I got sober. I left toxic relationships and the hard drugs and alcohol. I left the severe codependency, even if it was messy; even if those people helped me somehow, I finally saw the truth: they were not meant to stay.
I've walked away from major contracts, FAT checks, and the illusion of opportunity because what good is any of it if it costs your soul?
My car was repossessed, and my bills piled up. I had no family to call, no backup plan, no cushion, just me, my faith, and God's voice telling me, "It's time to go."
This isn't just me leaving Austin; this is me leaving exploitation and erasure and saying, "I remember who I am, why HE put me here, and my purpose to love and heal."
I've been abused, raped, lied to, gaslit, discarded, and still I create.
I don't do this out of vanity; I do it because God gave me a gift, and I've been called to use it for beauty, truth, and change.
HE helped me remember this.
There was a long time when I didn't know God was there. I grew up going to church, but it didn't feel real, not when I was hurting, not when I was being silenced and beaten down. How could I believe in a God who let that happen? So I only selfishly cried out to Him in crisis, like, "If you're real, save me." And every time? He did.
I never realized how many times He kept me until after more tough circumstances, I started getting sick, really sick... like trying to put me ON DISABILITY AT 30. I was losing jobs, my mind, my faith in ANYTHING, and struggling to keep going; something new opened up in that stillness. I found the great spiritual minds of Lewis Howes, Jay Shetty, Dr. Lisa Martin, and MY GUY, Dr. Joe Dispenza.
These brilliant, kind, spiritually awake beings blessed me, waking something up in me. They guided me to remember.
I remembered that God never left. I remembered He loved me even when I didn't know how to love myself. I remembered that He is love. That we are love. He made me strong so I could carry what I've taken, but He didn't make me bring it forever.
That remembering? That was my rebirth. That's when I became born again. That's when Creative Futurists for Equity & Accessibility came into full view as a vision and my calling.
Listen, I know this is gritty... I know this is raw, but this isn't a "woe is me" story. This is the why. When you live through this much and come out of that much fire, do you still have your heart, clarity, and compassion intact? That's not a weakness; that's the testimony; that's transformation. That's God.
If I hadn't lived through all of this, I wouldn't believe in what I know with the conviction I carry now. You don't reach unconditional love by reading about it. You get it by being forged in its absence and still choosing it anyway.
I pray for my enemies, I root for people who don't understand me, and I share this story because someone out there needs to know they're not crazy, they're not broken, and they're not alone.
Every piece in this shop was made with fire in my chest. Some were painted in grief, others in resistance. Every single one is a portal, and every dollar helps me fund this next chapter.
Because I'm not just trying to survive. I'm trying to build.
Creative Futurists for Equity & Accessibility is the ecosystem I wish existed: a space for artists to thrive, be paid, rest, and serve. It's a vision of a community where artists are valued for their work, have the resources they need, and can contribute to a more equitable and accessible artistic landscape while also honoring those that came before us AND the spaces we physically occupy in an everchanging world. I'm starting that vision now, and I'm doing it while I'm still healing, still processing, and still climbing.
Your support doesn't just help me eat. It helps me lead.
It helps me create a home base again. A studio. A future.
It helps me pour back into my community from a place of fullness, not burnout.
So, if you're reading this, thank you.
Your time and attention mean the world to me, and your potential support could help me bring my vision to life.
Thank you for witnessing me.
Thank you for believing in realness over polish.
Thank you for knowing that some of us are still here because
God wouldn't let us give up.
This is my Creative Exodus. Not everyone's supposed to understand it, but the ones who do?
You're part of it now, too.
-Sadé Channell