What the witch hunts taught me about protecting my energy in grad school
- Taino
- Jun 30
- 2 min read
By Justin Williams; Owner of Taino Studios
There’s a strange calm that comes before the gaze. A silence before scrutiny. You can feel it in institutions, the slow creep of eyes waiting to test your brilliance, not witness it.
Reading On the Demon-Mania of Witches by Jean Bodin while beginning my MFA at MICA has me sitting with that history. Not just the literal hunt for witches, but the haunting echo of what happens when society tries to extinguish what it doesn’t understand. Bodin’s text is both a grotesque archive and an unintentional mirror.
Today, it isn’t witches being burned;it’s ideas. It’s Black innovation. It’s rest. It’s intuition. And often, it’s us.
Still of me in my new studio during the low residency program at Maryland Institute College of Art
My modern day witch hunt:
Being the only Black or Afro-Latino artist in the room and being asked to explain your “cultural relevance.”
Seeing your work labeled “too niche,” “too emotional,” “too political.”
Constantly defending why joy, slowness, or softness are valid artistic practices.
Feeling unseen when you choose community care over constant production.
In grad school, the surveillance doesn’t always come from others. Sometimes, it’s internalized. You question your worth when you’re not making enough. You push through exhaustion because invisibility is familiar. You grind like your creativity is a debt you owe the institution.
But this is where we protect our fire.
Practical Ways I’m Protecting My Energy
Ritual Over Routine:I start my studio sessions with ancestral grounding—burning sage, placing water by the window, reciting affirmations that remind me: I create from legacy, not urgency.
Say Less, Mean More:Not every critique session deserves my full explanation. Sometimes the work speaks. Sometimes silence is resistance.
Micro-Moments of Joy:I schedule joy like deadlines. Tea breaks. 90s R&B. Shadowboxing with bees in the park. (Yes, that happened.)
Creative Boundaries:I’m learning to say, “This isn’t a good time to give feedback,” or “Can we circle back when I’ve rested?” The sacred no creates space for deeper yeses.
Community Check-ins:I stay in touch with other Black and Brown creatives who remind me: We are not here to survive institutions. We are here to shape them
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