We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Kamiah Vickers. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Kamiah below.

Kamiah, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

Contrary to what society and every self help book tells you, I hate routines. There’s something about repetition that quietly terrifies me. It’s like getting stuck in the backrooms and just when you thought you found your way out you have to go through the maze again. The idea of waking up and living the same day over and over again feels less like stability and more like slowly disappearing. For the past few weeks, my life has followed the same pattern. I wake up around 10. Scroll on TikTok until my brain feels numb enough to start the day. Get dressed. Head to my first job. Pass the hours doing small tasks, answering emails, making lists of all the things I swear I’ll do (but never end up doing because procrastination wins). Then I leave for my second job. By the time I get home around 11 p.m., I’m too exhausted to do anything except collapse into bed and prepare to do it all again the next morning. A few nights ago I was lying in bed when I looked up at my vision board hanging on my wall.

Ugh.

It felt almost ironic to look at it. Every photo, quote, and dream pinned onto that board felt so far away it almost seemed fictional. Which is funny because when I close my eyes and imagine the life I want to create for myself, it’s so clear. And then a thought crossed my mind. How much longer are you going to make your dreams wait for you?

I’ve always been someone with the audacity to dream. Even as a kid, I never imagined a small life for myself. I wanted to create things that moved people. I wanted to tell stories that made someone feel seen. I wanted a life overflowing with art and meaning and creativity. But somewhere along the way, I think the fear of being perceived started weighing on my artistry. There’s something deeply vulnerable about chasing a dream before there’s any evidence it’ll work. Before the applause. Before anyone else can see the vision besides you.

A few weeks ago, I found myself doom searching through YouTube looking for some kind of motivational speech to shake me out of my creative slump. I ended up watching an interview with Keke Palmer and Emma Grede, and somewhere in the middle of it I caught myself thinking: “Why aren’t there more people talking about their journey who are actively trying to pursue their dreams?” What does it look like to chase a dream before the success arrives?

So much of my life I’ve hidden myself away until I felt ready. But maybe being seen is the very thing needed in order to make my dreams a reality.
So I created Dream Loudly. A space where I’ll be documenting the pursuit of my dreams in real time. The wins and losses. The times where I want to give up. I want to encourage and inspire people through my posts and essays. Because if there’s one thing we need to do more of, it’s dream.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

Growing up, there were two things I wanted out of life: to tell stories and to inspire people.

The first stories I ever told came from my great-grandmother’s closet. I’d dig through her dresses and hats, putting together characters with entire lives of their own. Susanna wore an oversized church hat and talked real slow. Ella was a Southern woman who wanted nothing more than to get married. Her jewelry of choice was pearls. I was fascinated by the idea that my imagination could open the door to a whole new world.

That love of storytelling eventually led me to the stage, and later to New York University, where I earned my BFA. While studying acting, I realized I didn’t just want to perform in stories, but write them too. So I started doing both.

Today, I’m a playwright, actor, and creative whose work is rooted in connection. I’m drawn to stories about ordinary people navigating extraordinary moments—grief, love, friendship, faith, family, and the quiet choices that shape our lives. Whether I’m writing a play, an essay, or a piece of commentary, I want people to feel seen. I want someone to walk away thinking, “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

My work has been produced at festivals and theaters throughout New York, and I’ve had the opportunity to collaborate with incredible artists along the way. But more than any credit or accomplishment, what I’m most proud of is continuing to create. I’m continuing even with lack of resources. I’m continuing even though I’m not necessarily where I want to be career wise.

I think that’s what sets me apart. I’m not interested in creating work that simply entertains. I want to build community through storytelling. I want to ask difficult questions, celebrate joy, and make space for conversations people might not otherwise have. As a Black woman in theater and the arts, I know the power of seeing yourself reflected in a story, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly.

Right now, I’m in a season of choosing to dream without apology. I’m writing plays and essays, building a creative career, and documenting the process as honestly as I can. I don’t have every answer, and I don’t pretend to. But I believe there’s value in pursuing the life you’ve been called to even when it’s uncertain.

If there’s one thing I’d want people to know about me and my work, it’s this: I believe stories can change people. They can humor us, challenge us, comfort us, and remind us that we’re not alone. That’s the kind of work I hope to make, and the life I’m trying to build.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

I think the biggest thing driving my creative journey is the hope that someone feels a little less alone because of something I made.

I’ve always been fascinated by people. I love listening to conversations at coffee shops, watching strangers on the train, hearing family stories that get passed down over dinner. I think everyone has a story worth telling, and I think some of the most beautiful moments in life happen in places we don’t usually pay attention to.

A lot of my work comes back to connection. I write about grief, friendship, love, faith, family, and the weird, messy parts of being human because those are the things that connect all of us. I want people to sit in a theater and see a piece of themselves on stage.

I also think my mission has changed as I’ve gotten older. When I was younger, I wanted to create because I loved performing and telling stories. I still do. But now, I want my life to be an example of what happens when you decide to chase the thing that’s been sitting on your heart for years.

I’m in a season of my life where I’m choosing to dream really big and loud. Not because I know everything will work out exactly the way I planned, but because I’d rather try than spend my life wondering what would’ve happened if I had. I think a lot of people have dreams they’ve convinced themselves are too unrealistic or too late or too impossible. If my work or my story can encourage even one person to take a chance on themselves, that’s a pretty incredible thing.

I don’t know exactly where this creative journey is going to take me. I have big dreams, and I have a lot of work left to do. But I know that storytelling is what I was made to do, and I can’t imagine building a life around anything else.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

The best way to support artists is to support artists.

Read your friend’s book. Go see the play your coworker spent three years writing. Listen to your cousin’s new song. Share someone’s short film on social media. Buy a ticket, even if it’s for a tiny black box theater with folding chairs and a cast you’ve never heard of. Engagement matters more than people realize.

I think there’s a misconception that you have to be wealthy or influential to support the arts, but some of the most meaningful support I’ve received has been from people showing up. As someone working in theater, I’ve learned that audiences have more power than they realize. Every ticket purchased helps keep creative work alive. The projects that go on to change the world often start with a handful of people who believed in them early.

Show up. Engage with the work.

Artists spend so much of their lives making things in the hope that they’ll connect with another person. One of the greatest gifts you can give a creative is letting them know that they did.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.kamiahvickers.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kamiah.vickers/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kamiah-vickers-a98980242/?skipRedirect=true
• Other: Substack: https://kamiahvickers.substack.com/?utm_campaign=profile_chips

  Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@kamiahvickers?_t=8mcdalhmXO6&_r=1