Hello.

My name is Jess Watson.

I am a graphic designer, I am a writer, a business owner, a traveler, and a volunteer. I like to take scenic photos with my iPhone in my home city of Baltimore, and also when I travel.  This website is a home for my writing.

I’m a woman of color, sometimes lost in a sea of shades, constantly refining my identity, searching for where I fit in, and sometimes coming up short. I get lost to find myself.

In 2013 I road-tripped around the country, living like a local a month at a time in a different city. That year changed my life, allowing me to cross paths with people from all walks of life, and share in some mesmerizing experiences.

My travel memoir (in progress) details stories from that year, and the self I found on the open road. Trying to write a book is one of the most challenging projects I’ve taken on to date. It feels like a one in a million shot, and it comes with a lot of rejection. But I’m committed, so this is me, chasing pavements and chasing a dream. 

FLIGHT PLANS

I stopped by my storage unit this weekend. I’m in a short term rental until this shelter-in-place is lifted and I can properly search for a new apartment in Baltimore. This rental is okay and my needs are met. I’m in Fells Point and I can walk and bike most places. But I can’t begin to describe the unsettled feeling that comes from being advised to stay home and yet not be home. I thought if I grabbed some things from storage, like scented candles, books, and a blanket, that I could bring some comfort inside these walls.

I typed in my code to enter the building and the sliding door squeaked open. Before stepping over the threshold I looked down. There was a clump of feathers just sitting there by the entryway. I peered closer and oh no! It’s a little baby bird.

I can’t see its face, it looks still. “Please don’t be dead” I whispered. I looked up to see if there were any nests under the pergola, but there was nothing. Seeing an injured baby animal makes me long for my mother to be within arms reach, just like back in the day with me in the backyard and mom in the kitchen humming a tune while peering out the window. But she's miles away and also sheltered in place. We are separate for survival. She would know what to do.

STRAY BULLETS IN BALTIMORE

Stray bullets are no accident. Whizzing by, separating air and ripping through surface layers until they are stopped or they stop. They disrupt everyday life in the worst way imaginable, taking with them that which was never theirs to take.

“Ain’t nowhere to run to,” sings Nina Simone soulfully in her song Baltimore, “there ain’t nothing here for free.”

I remember when I first announced I was moving into Baltimore back in 2010: the worried concerns of friends and family who have watched The Wire; the references to local and national news putting the city’s shortcomings on repeat. For as long as I can recall, I have likened Baltimore to a tale of two cities...

A FLAT TIRE, A MOUNTAIN ROAD

“Dad, guess what I did.” I say holding back excitement into the phone.

“You bought a house.”

“What? No!” He does this every time, and every time I forget that he does this. My dad has been hinting at me buying a house since I graduated college in 2005.

“Dad, I changed my car tire today.”

MASS SHOOTINGS REMIND ME OF MY TERRIFYING TRIP TO THE GUN RANGE

Fifty people gone. Families, friend circles, communities — broken beyond repair, viciously torn apart, totally destroyed. Forever. We cannot get back what we’ve lost, and in a nation where mass shootings and crimes of hate are becoming the norm, we are constantly losing. I am out of prayers and well wishes, my confidence depleted by a system that is supposed to protect me. I’m familiar with the pony show that occurs after a mass shooting and it provides no comfort: We will collectively discuss gun policy for a few weeks, but ultimately we will see no change. Coverage of the mass shooting will eventually fade to the second page of newspapers while new topics surface — until another mass shooting shakes us all again.

I am numb. I am not safe...

...

Published by The Establishment

MY SURPRISING DINNER WITH A TRUMP SUPPORTER

Many of us have been distancing ourselves from those who have strong views in favor of Trump and his plan for America. Two days after the election, I unknowingly welcomed one into my home.

My home is my refuge, my haven, and my escape from the rest of the world. It’s a space that brings me comfort and joy. It has also always been a place where people feel safe enough to be themselves. There is no need for armor behind my brick walls. My friends have always been welcome; they are an eclectic group from many backgrounds, representing a plethora of races, religions, ways of life, and points of view...

...

Published by: The Establishment