Inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement, we at Adobe Create have taken a close look at the content we’ve put out over the past several years, and we feel that we’ve done our readers, and the creative community as a whole, a disservice: we have failed to properly represent the diversity of that community, specifically in terms of showcasing Black creatives and their work. To remedy this, we launched a new program in July. Each month, we will hire a notable Black creative and welcome them onto our editorial board, to help us curate and showcase stories and social-media content about other Black artists they admire. 

Alejandro Chavetta: Thank you so much for being a part of this effort—we’re excited to work with you. So I guess a first question for you would be how you came to photography as your medium. 

Cheriss May: It was very organic—I always was interested in it. As a little girl, I was really interested in all things creative—whether I was drawing, coloring, painting, or whatever—but I always remember having a camera, always taking pictures. My parents saw my interest and invested in it: I can remember getting better cameras each Christmas. I started out with film cameras, and I would just show up to family events and things and take pictures. And I loved getting them printed and seeing how they came back. Then in high school I took a photography class, and I learned how to develop my own film, which turned on another layer of my love for photography. And it just kept going. 

But I started out as a graphic designer—I pursued advertising, thinking that I would go the studio route. After college, I started my graphic design career in newspapers, but I was always taking pictures on the side. Where it really flipped is when I got laid off from USA Today. At that time, I was teaching as an adjunct at Howard University, and I just decided, “You know what? I really love photography; I’m going to step out on faith, and pursue this while I continue teaching.” And that has been my life since 2005. 

AC: When did you start as an educator? 

CM: This is my 21st year. I was at the Washington Post when I started teaching at the University of Maryland College Park—I taught a newspaper production and design class in the School of Communications. And now I’ve been at Howard in the School of Communications for 19 years.

I was the graphic designer for features there. There were a couple other Black staffers, journalists. But I remember on my first day, one of the senior writers for features wanted to take me to lunch. We went to a Subway and she said: “I don’t really need to work…I just work here because I want to make sure that the Yankees don’t come and change our way of life.”… So that’s what I was working with. That was the start. And like you said, there weren’t many people of color doing that work. So there were micro-aggressions, and a feeling that I always had to be on, like ten thousand percent. The thought was always present that I’m representing everybody Black—knowing that what I do and how I perform will affect others who come after me. That’s the reality of how that felt for me. 

AC: That’s related to something I think about a lot: If we don’t see people like us in positions of creativity or power, we’re never going to get there. I feel like a lot of people don’t see themselves. A lot of kids don’t see themselves. In your opinion, what will it take to get more Black women represented in your field? How can we get to a place where we have more Black creatives and storytellers—which is who we need to tell that community’s stories? 

CM: It’s going to take some time to get there…. One thing I can say is that during this moment, there has been more of a push to amplify Black voices, which is a good start. People are in their feelings. But what happens once that fades, what happens when people no longer are thinking about George Floyd, or when we’re past this moment in time? I think it’s up to myself and other Black photographers to continue the push to tell our stories. We can’t just relax on what’s being done at this time. A lot of it will take decision-makers in the industry—art directors and editors—being more thoughtful and inclusive in who they commission for shoots and assignments. I think it can happen with attentive decision-making.

AC: What has been your experience with the current Black Lives Matter movement and uprising—as part of the Black community and as a storyteller. How were you able to navigate that—being out there taking photos while also participating? 

CM: Yes, there are levels and layers to that…. When I go out there, I’m not going out just as a photographer. I’m a Black woman first. This is my community, my life. I feel the pain. I feel the hurt. I feel the anger. I see myself in the protesters who are out there. So going out there was hard initially. Sometimes afterward, I would just go to my car and cry. Sometimes it’s still hard—but I also feel like I have a responsibility to be out there to tell the story. I feel like I’m in a unique position because of the intersectionality of what I cover: Sometimes I’m at the White House, the U.S. Capitol, and then sometimes I’m on the street. And these worlds are really connected. What happens in one affects the other. 

AC: How do you prepare to go out when you’re doing your photojournalism work?

There was a moment of connection: I felt a shift when she was talking—I knew that there was going to be a powerful moment; I could just feel it. She was talking about the hidden figures that had built the White House. And at that moment, she dropped her head. And I don’t know whether it was to hold in some emotion or it was just a really powerful moment for her. But she dropped her head, and that’s when I released my shutter. It was that quick of a moment. But it was so powerful, not only because of what she was talking about, but also I felt how strongly she was connected to the idea of “I’m here as a Black woman, the First Lady of the United States, and I’m here because of those that helped build this White House.” For me, as a Black woman, I connected to all of that. How powerful is that? So that’s what that portrait speaks to. And I call it Hidden Figures. 

AC: There’s so much power in it. What else are you thinking about in this moment in history, as far as being a storyteller? 

CM: It’s so important for Black creatives, creatives of color, to tell the stories of our communities. I would just encourage Black creatives to keep creating, keep telling the stories, keep representing—because people are open to it. It’s imperative, and we have a captive audience now. People are paying more attention, they’re more receptive because they saw what happened to George Floyd. They’re a little more open to hearing different stories and voices because of this moment. 

AC: Storytelling goes a long way, and I think being represented and good storytelling make us see ourselves. And that’s something that has been missing. I feel like that was missing for me when I moved to the U.S.—seeing myself in creative roles, in leadership roles. And that is something we’re trying to do—let’s help people see themselves. Let's help kids see themselves as a photographer, as an educator, as a designer. That's one way to make a change.

CM: This is the power of being a Black educator. You don’t know how many students have told me how powerful it was for them to have and to see an instructor like me in this area. To see someone that looks them doing the work that I do that is heavily white male.

May had photographed civil rights leader Congressman John Lewis multiple times. About the color photograph, she says, “There was a vigil happening at the Capitol, and there was a Black Lives Matter group of young people there. And when John Lewis finished speaking at the podium, he came down the stairs and went right over to that group of young people and just imparted all of his wisdom—his lifetime of fighting for civil rights and the importance of what they were doing. And what I saw was he was passing the torch. He encouraged them to keep doing what they were doing and that they were on the right path…. If you don’t speak up and if you don’t do these things, then change is not going to happen. He would always say, ‘Get in to good trouble.’ I definitely want to make sure to honor Congressman John Lewis, and his legacy.” May captured a portrait of Congressman Lewis during a press conference about voting rights at the U.S. Capitol.

AC: What advice would you give to young Black kids who are trying to figure out what to do with their lives, who maybe think that creativity is their thing? How should they approach that? 

CM: I would say think about those things that you love to do and do them. Even if you don’t initially get paid for it. It’s those things that you are passionate about, that you’re driven to do freely, where you will find your purpose. And to me, that is key as a creative: once you realize your purpose, then everything else falls into place. Study the work of those you admire—find those people who are doing work that inspires you. Find those things that keep your thirst and your inspiration going, so you can continue to create. The more you create, the more you’ll refine your style and become more confident in your work.

May’s first pick is Tokie Rome-Taylor (@tokietstudio), a fine-art photographer, visual artist, and educator based in Atlanta. She describes herself as a Southern girl—her work focuses on exploring race, history, spirit, memory, and material culture as a means of connecting to her past. In her images, the creolization of common western symbolic elements of wealth and status—jewels, lace, velvet, and so on—psychologically shift the internal narrative of the viewer toward elevation of the subjects, acceptance, and expanded perception and expectation. May says, “I love how she brings this elegance to Black youth. Her art is transformative and experimental; it’s multi-layered and textural. When I look at her subjects, there’s so much wisdom in their eyes. I think for Black kids to see themselves elevated like that is empowering.” You can explore her work on her website.

Cheriss May chose to feature Michael McCoy (@michaelamccoyphotography) as her second pick. May says, “McCoy is a two-time Iraq veteran, and what first drew me to Mike was his veteran portraits, which give dignity to the often-forgotten veterans who have returned home from service. I don’t think they always get the respect they deserve when they come back. I really love how Mike honors veterans in his work.” McCoy, who has a portfolio full of striking photojournalism, shared some of his most recent work with us. He describes his body of work this way: “I like to think of myself as a storyteller through photography, and my camera lens offers a concrete expression that will transcend time. My passion for photography came in my early years and has allowed me to identify and navigate the subtle nuances that make each person unique. Catching them at just the right moment produces exquisite works of art that will be cherished forever. My photographs have been described as engaging, affectionate, insightful and alluring.” See more of his work on his portfolio site. 

May’s third choice was artist Laylah Amatullah Barrayn (@laylahb) — an award-winning documentary and portrait photographer born and based in Brooklyn. She is a frequent contributor to the “New York Times,” and her work has also been published in “Vogue,” “National Geographic,” the “Washington Post,” and many other publications. She has exhibited nationally and internationally with solo exhibitions at the Museum of the African Diaspora San Francisco, the Taubman Museum of Art (in Virginia), and MAK Gallery (in London), among others. And she is a co-author of “MFON: Women Photographers of the African Diaspora,” the first anthology in nearly 30 years that highlights photography produced by women of African descent. Barrayn turns her lens on a wide range of subjects—the photo shown here is from a series of photos of daily life in Senegal. Find more of her work at her portfolio site.