About Dr. Myeshia Babers
Filmmaker | Storyteller | Cultural Strategist
I come from farmers who turned Texas soil with hope heavier than their hands, and seamstresses who stitched safety into the seams of uncertain times.
I come from Cora Lee Woods, born in 1898 in Calvert, Texas — daughter of Nathan and Drucilla Woods, who coaxed freedom from red clay when possibility was rationed.
I come from grandmothers born in the 1930s --
one who baked, sewed, and stood watch as her children stepped through newly desegregated school doors,
and one who crossed oceans from colonial Trinidad, carrying survival in her bones and new beginnings in her hands.
I come from a grandfather who left Trinidad with his wife and children, landing in New York City --
where survival meant quiet, daily victories.
He later moved his family south to Texas to build again, without fanfare, but with purpose.
He lived long enough for me to witness his steadiness, and when he passed, his ashes returned to the waters that once carried him forward.
I come from a mother who made education her ministry,
and a father who, as a boy of seven, crossed oceans and cities --
becoming a craftsman of engines and endurance.
My path first mirrored theirs:
I walked the same school corridors my father once did,
drawn to Meteorology and Space Science, reaching for the stars with the belief that wonder lived above.
But not all motion leads away -- some rising is just the arc before return.
I found myself drawn back:
to the soil my mother’s people turned, and the waters that once bore my father’s name across oceans.
I came to understand: legacy is not a path we walk — it’s a current we learn to swim, a weight we learn to hold.
So I chose again.
Not the desk, but the page.
Not the constellation chart, but the archive.
Not the classroom alone, but the lens, the pen, the platform.
I carry forward my mother’s belief in the transformative power of education --
not only through teaching, but through preserving stories, honoring memory, and building frameworks for change through research, film, and advocacy.
I come from fields and shorelines, from stitched cloth and turning wrenches, from classroom walls and ocean crossings.
I carry their unfinished prayers into every story I tell — through research, through film, through the careful and urgent work of remembrance.
I am a bridge between first-generation dreams and generations-deep roots.
I am a storyteller shaped by soil, carried by water, and anchored in legacy.
I come from Cora Lee Woods, born in 1898 in Calvert, Texas — daughter of Nathan and Drucilla Woods, who coaxed freedom from red clay when possibility was rationed.
I come from grandmothers born in the 1930s --
one who baked, sewed, and stood watch as her children stepped through newly desegregated school doors,
and one who crossed oceans from colonial Trinidad, carrying survival in her bones and new beginnings in her hands.
I come from a grandfather who left Trinidad with his wife and children, landing in New York City --
where survival meant quiet, daily victories.
He later moved his family south to Texas to build again, without fanfare, but with purpose.
He lived long enough for me to witness his steadiness, and when he passed, his ashes returned to the waters that once carried him forward.
I come from a mother who made education her ministry,
and a father who, as a boy of seven, crossed oceans and cities --
becoming a craftsman of engines and endurance.
My path first mirrored theirs:
I walked the same school corridors my father once did,
drawn to Meteorology and Space Science, reaching for the stars with the belief that wonder lived above.
But not all motion leads away -- some rising is just the arc before return.
I found myself drawn back:
to the soil my mother’s people turned, and the waters that once bore my father’s name across oceans.
I came to understand: legacy is not a path we walk — it’s a current we learn to swim, a weight we learn to hold.
So I chose again.
Not the desk, but the page.
Not the constellation chart, but the archive.
Not the classroom alone, but the lens, the pen, the platform.
I carry forward my mother’s belief in the transformative power of education --
not only through teaching, but through preserving stories, honoring memory, and building frameworks for change through research, film, and advocacy.
I come from fields and shorelines, from stitched cloth and turning wrenches, from classroom walls and ocean crossings.
I carry their unfinished prayers into every story I tell — through research, through film, through the careful and urgent work of remembrance.
I am a bridge between first-generation dreams and generations-deep roots.
I am a storyteller shaped by soil, carried by water, and anchored in legacy.
