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 was a quiet, daily victory --
before journeying south to Texas to build another beginning,
and whose life stretched long enough for me to know his strength,
and whose ashes returned to the waters of Trinidad after he passed on my birthday, when I was in the third grade.
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.
I chose their paths with my own hands:
I chose my father's schools --
walking the same middle and high school halls he once did,
studying Meteorology and Space Science, my early gaze pulled upward toward the stars.
And I chose my mother's calling --
carrying forward her belief in the transformative power of education,
not from a classroom desk, but through preserving stories, honoring memory, and building frameworks for change through research, film, and advocacy.
Purpose, however, has its own gravity.
I found my true calling not among constellations above,
but in the soil that anchored my mother’s side, and the waters that carried my father’s --
shaped across generations by memory, migration, and hope.
I come from fields and shorelines, from stitched cloth and turning wrenches, from classroom walls and ocean crossings --
from books carried across oceans and dreams planted deep into stubborn ground.
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 was a quiet, daily victory --
before journeying south to Texas to build another beginning,
and whose life stretched long enough for me to know his strength,
and whose ashes returned to the waters of Trinidad after he passed on my birthday, when I was in the third grade.
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.
I chose their paths with my own hands:
I chose my father's schools --
walking the same middle and high school halls he once did,
studying Meteorology and Space Science, my early gaze pulled upward toward the stars.
And I chose my mother's calling --
carrying forward her belief in the transformative power of education,
not from a classroom desk, but through preserving stories, honoring memory, and building frameworks for change through research, film, and advocacy.
Purpose, however, has its own gravity.
I found my true calling not among constellations above,
but in the soil that anchored my mother’s side, and the waters that carried my father’s --
shaped across generations by memory, migration, and hope.
I come from fields and shorelines, from stitched cloth and turning wrenches, from classroom walls and ocean crossings --
from books carried across oceans and dreams planted deep into stubborn ground.
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.
