The Faith of the Dreamer: A Personal Story About Racism, Trauma, and Healing

Editors’ Note: This article was originally written for the Spring 2025 issue of Nonprofit Quarterly Magazine, “How Women of Color in the South Are Reclaiming Space.”

I recall a time, not long ago, when one of my children asked me, “Mom, why don’t you paint conceptual drawings like you did years ago?”

That question took me back to when I was a freshman art student at Mercer University in Macon, GA, a small Southern town about 80 miles southeast of Atlanta. I was pursuing a double major in studio art and biology. I was hopeful of becoming a medical illustrator.

More than 50 years ago, I was unjustly denied an art degree. I was the only Black woman in the Art Department at the time. My hopes and dreams of becoming a medical illustrator were derailed.

An Artist’s Dream Denied

I first attended classes on Mercer University’s campus as a high school student, a member of the first class of students in their Upward Bound program in 1965. Upward Bound (one of the federal TRIO programs) identifies high school sophomores who could become first-generation college students.

Then, in the fall of 1968, shortly after the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy, I began college at Mercer as a residential student.

During my first two years of college, I felt compelled by the tumultuous events of the time to paint what I felt about the world, the social climate, and my community. I created a drawing of my father and mother, holding a child, standing in front of an archery target. They were strong, Black, and proud but without any control of their destiny. It was called Target Practice.

There was another painting, an abstract that represented a young woman like me thrown into a world of “Whiteness,” only to realize even more acutely how we did not belong. It was called Purple you, Purple me.

Another abstract painting, The Rebirth of Colored Folk, was a passionate call for unity among all the different hues of Black folks who were being divided by social norms that pitted light-complexioned Blacks against those with stronger-melanin skin tones. I felt deeply about this subject because there were both in my immediate family. My fair-skinned, Black mother had blue eyes. I too have a fair-skinned Black child who has blue eyes.

It is hard to fight the external ills of a community when there’s internal conflict. My cry and my hope were for a rebirth of our community into an acute awareness that could dispel the all-too-familiar tactic of allowing outward appearances to determine a person’s worth.

Those of us of African descent must not forget the history of our ancestors who lived through the horrific sexual crimes that were a part of chattel slavery and how those crimes have manifested over the years.

That too is our heritage, not a choice. My heart and passion were to acknowledge the truth of our history and not follow the lead of those who would use skin color or hair texture to divide us.

My paintings raised cries for justice and equal treatment in the wider world. Meanwhile, on campus, I found myself fighting against those same forces of inequality.

Mercer was a private Baptist college that, until 1963 (a year before the laws against segregation were enforced) admitted White students only. In 1968, the chair of the Art Department was brutally racist. He not only called me a [n-word] to my face the first day I met him, but he also told me that I was not smart enough to earn a degree from his department.

In the era of desegregation of schools, racism was overt and routine both among my professors and peers on campus, and I bear the scars of that time. Nevertheless, I worked very hard to finish the requirements only to have him not recommend me as a candidate for the degree. Even though I knew he was against me, because he was an accomplished sculptor, I allowed his words and rejection of my work to dishearten me. I felt defeated. Eventually I stopped painting conceptual pieces.

Working Through Trauma

I had experienced overt racism during my time on campus—reading racist writings, being called racist slurs during classes, and ultimately being denied the art degree that I had earned. Still, I could not comprehend the impact this would have on my career as an artist and on my life as a wife and mother of four. I now know that encountering someone with the power to speak words and take actions to push me off my true path was devastating. I was no longer on a course determined by my skills and principles. My identity as an artist had been sabotaged.

After graduating with a degree in biology, I continued my education by earning a bachelor of science in medical technology from the Medical College of Georgia. I continued to draw and paint, but I steered clear of the conceptual art that had characterized my earlier work. I became known for representational artwork as a portrait artist. With portraiture, as long as I could get a good likeness, I was applauded as an artist.

For 30 years, I worked alongside my husband as a medical office manager in his pediatric practice. We made a conscious decision not to share some of the demeaning and humiliating experiences of our college days with our children. Being one of the first in my family to complete college, we knew it would take strategic planning to foster the desire for higher education in our children. We knew they had the ability, but we wanted to circumvent the underlying threat of a society of people who saw them as inferior.

While raising the children and working with my husband, I still coveted my art degree. From the time I graduated, it was always in my heart that I completed the requirements for my degree, but I could not verify that.

The current dean confirmed that I had completed the degree requirements in 1972…[and allowed me to march] with the graduating class of 2021.

Over the years, I reached out to the university to have my transcript reviewed, but my requests were rejected. I was told I could return to the university to complete additional coursework, even though I had completed all of the requirements for my degree to be conferred in 1972.

Redemption and Recovery

Thankfully, my story took an unusual twist. In 2019, through a chance airport meeting, I met Sarah Gardner, a professor of history currently teaching at Mercer University. She listened with care to my story and asked my permission to investigate the matter and take it up with the current academic dean.

After reviewing my transcript, the current dean confirmed that I had completed the degree requirements in 1972. In redress, the university offered me the opportunity to march with the graduating class of 2021. I was also given the honor of a one-woman exhibit, which included several pieces that were denied admission into Mercer’s senior student exhibit of 1972. The Lyndon House Arts Center in Athens, GA, also held an exhibit of my work.

Looking back over 50 years of racial and emotional trauma, there were times when I felt alone and afraid, but with the encouragement of my husband and family I kept moving forward. In 1989, I had a spiritual experience that lifted the weight of hatred and bitterness and replaced it with forgiveness and peace.

Reparations in the form of acknowledgment, validation, and redress on the part of the university were an integral part of starting to heal.

Now I have a newfound freedom from the chains of the past as a person and an artist. I am compelled to pursue art with clarity and a strong conviction of who I am and the legacy I will leave. Through reflection and sharing my story with racial reconciliation and healing groups, I have regained my passion for sharing my heart in my art as contentment and healing have come.

Reparations in the form of acknowledgment, validation, and redress on the part of the university were an integral part of starting to heal.

In 2023, I was offered the opportunity to share my story in the form of a documentary. Directed by my son, Khary Payton, the film is entitled The Faith of The Dreamer: One Woman’s Story of Racial Trauma and Healing.

The objective of the film is to use my story to illustrate the destructive, lingering legacies of chattel slavery and systemic and personal racism; to be a catalyst for other stories that reveal the truth of our nation’s history; to encourage those who have proximity and the commitment to take action; to underscore the value of perseverance and faith over decades; and to emphasize the importance of both groups, those of the minority cultures and those in the majority culture, to come together and have conversation for reconciliation, repair, and healing to happen.

My heart is compelled to paint mural-like paintings that tell the stories of people and communities who have reconciled their differences. 

The Faith of the Dreamer was selected to have its world premiere on August 24, 2025, in the Macon Film Festival (whose primary sponsor is Mercer University of Macon, GA) and its West Coast premiere in the Burbank International Film Festival in Burbank, CA, and the Catalina Film Festival in September 2025. We will continue to submit the film to festivals through 2026.

I am also committed to starting a foundation to explore different avenues of reconciliation of families and communities, in this country and around the world. My heart is compelled to paint mural-like paintings that tell the stories of people and communities who have reconciled their differences.