We were lucky to catch up with Ty Thompson recently and have shared our conversation below.

Ty, appreciate you joining us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

The very first event I ever produced was a Barbershop Link-Up hosted at the exact shop I grew up in, right in the heart of Crown Heights, Brooklyn. As a barbershop kid, I spent countless hours surrounded by my grandparents, the rhythm of adult conversations, and the warmth of community. That space always felt like a safe haven to me, and I wanted to pay homage to that experience by turning it into something intentional for others.

We kept it intimate—only about 30–40 people—but I was able to secure sponsors, curate goodie bags, and gift anyone who got a cut that day with a little something extra. We had a photographer and videographer on site to capture it all. One of the most powerful moments? Rome, the owner of the shop, later used those very photos and videos to apply for a grant—and got approved. That outcome was the spark that made me realize: this is what I want to do. Create meaningful, community-rooted experiences that give back and leave a lasting impact.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

My name is Tyanna Thompson, but most people know me as Ty T—a Brooklyn-bred creative, community builder, and cultural strategist with deep roots in storytelling and space-making.

I started with a passion for fashion. Growing up, style was my first language—it was how I expressed myself when words didn’t always come easy. Between my adolescence and going to Art & Design high school for fashion design, I was known for putting looks together, playing with aesthetics, and using clothing as a form of self-definition. But as I grew, I realized I wanted to do more than just serve looks—I wanted to create impact. That desire pushed me to explore new creative lanes—from event planning and digital storytelling to youth mentorship, brand strategy, and community organizing.

Today, my work lives at the intersection of culture, creativity, and community. I build experiences, manage programs, produce content, and develop platforms that center purpose-driven narratives—especially for young people, Black and brown creatives, and overlooked communities. I’m the behind-the-scenes glue: the timeline builder, the deck crafter, the strategy whisperer, the vibe curator. Whether I’m coordinating a youth ambassador program, organizing a wellness event, pitching a brand partnership, or launching The Hoods Hub—my goal is always the same: to make sure people feel seen, supported, and inspired.

What sets me apart is that I move from the inside out. I don’t just create to impress—I create to connect. My work is thoughtful, intentional, and rooted in the lived experiences of myself and my community. I understand how to move between the boardroom and the block, and I take pride in being both creative and strategic, spiritual and organized, grounded and aspirational.

I’m most proud of how I’ve learned to pivot with purpose—bouncing back from injury, navigating burnout, setting boundaries, and still showing up for the people and projects that matter. I turn lessons into activations, and I help others do the same—whether through journaling workshops, creative pitch nights, or community panels.

For anyone just getting to know me, know this: I build legacy in real time. My brand and my work are not about chasing trends—they’re about honoring culture, sparking joy, and carving out space for folks to thrive unapologetically.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

Yes—there’s a very clear mission driving my creative journey: to build legacy through culture, community, and creativity. Everything I do is rooted in the belief that the hood isn’t just a place—it’s a source of genius, resilience, and untapped potential. My goal is to make sure that talent, stories, and energy from our neighborhoods are not only seen but celebrated, funded, and sustained.

That mission is what led me to build The Hoods Hub—a reimagined community platform dedicated to curating safe, vibrant spaces for creativity and connection within the hood. What started as a simple idea has grown into a bigger vision: a membership-based club that supports public events, intentional gatherings, and long-term cultural preservation. From Hoods.Function parties and youth-centered activations to barbershop link-ups, women’s dinners, and legacy-building workshops—The Hoods Hub is about designing joy, healing, and innovation for us, by us.

The Hoods Hub is how I bring my values to life in a tangible way. It’s scrappy, soulful, and strategic—just like me. I want to show that you don’t need a million-dollar budget to create meaningful change. You need intention, community, and the courage to start where you are. Through this platform, I aim to build something that lasts beyond the moment—something that speaks to the power of neighborhood culture and the possibility of what happens when we invest in our own.

So whether I’m producing an event, mentoring young creatives, or designing decks to pitch the next big partnership—The Hoods Hub keeps me grounded in why I started: to amplify the hood’s brilliance and help others turn their stories into strategy.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Absolutely. One thing I think non-creatives often struggle to understand is that the work doesn’t stop when the event ends, the post goes up, or the deck gets sent. As a creative, especially one building from the ground up with community at the center, so much of the work is invisible. It’s the late nights troubleshooting, the emotional energy it takes to stay inspired, and the constant mental juggling between survival and storytelling, especially when you’re not backed by big budgets or teams.

People often romanticize creativity—they see the polished photos, the packed-out rooms, the moments that look good online. But what they don’t always see is the pressure of wearing 5+ hats, making it make sense financially, or constantly having to prove the value of your work in spaces that don’t always get it. Creative work—especially community-centered creative work—is labor. Emotional labor. Spiritual labor. Logistical labor. Strategic labor.

And still, I wouldn’t trade it. Because what we create as creatives—especially those of us from the hood—is often what keeps people inspired, connected, and hopeful. We build bridges where there were none. We make joy feel accessible. We archive culture in real time. And even when it feels like no one is watching, we keep going. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary.

So to the non-creatives: understand that what we do is work. It’s valid. It’s valuable. And it deserves both recognition and rest. And to my fellow creatives: you’re not crazy for caring this much. Keep building. You’re shifting the culture even on the days it feels quiet.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://popl.co/card/Airw9y1r/1/preview
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/whosthatflygirltyty?igsh=MWI4MTQ4dmYyOGY3bQ==
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ty-thompson-7254b1160?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=ios_app