Porsha Williams - The Pursuit of Porsha: How I Grew Into My Power and Purpose

HIIIII, welcome to Porshas World! I said cheerily while staring into a black camcorder.

At twelve years old, I already knew there was something to discover through that lens that didnt seem attainable in the confines of my childhood bedroom. My reality felt extraordinary through that lens.

During pre-production for my faux Home Shopping Network show, I had walked around my mothers house on Cameron Close, about thirty minutes outside of Decatur, Georgia, carefully examining and hand-selecting the items I deemed worthy to be sold later to my millions of fictional viewers. While I sat in my chair for my first-ever series, my mothers beautiful items, perched on different shelves, shone behind me while my dolls and stuffed animals served as my studio audience.

We have this beautiful candle, I said, picking up my mommas smell goods while wearing the shoulder-padded jacket Id swiped from her closet earlier. We only have a hundred left! Oh my God, hurry up and buy them!

At the time, I was living with my mom, whom everyone else called Ms. Diane, during the week and visiting my dad, Hosea, on the weekends. My parents had split by the time I was two or three years old. In my room, though, with its bay windows and vaulted ceilings, I felt like I had created my own safe haven.

It felt like the only space where I could dream a little bit bigger than those white walls. It felt like the only place where I felt comfortable to ask for more of myself and see more for myself, rather than the flat-chested, skinny, big-eyed stickhateful words I had heard the other kids call me at school that I somehow believed to be true. I wanted to be more than the girl other kids called ugly. The one they called lame.

At that time, I couldve never imagined some two decades later, millions would be watching me through similar black lenses, falling in love with me through my triumphs, my heartbreaks, my mistakes, and my overcome.

Back then, my twelve-year-old self found no relief at Chapel Hill Middle School in Decatur. I dont remember much about middle school, and its probably because I didnt care much about it. I didnt really excel there because I didnt really pay attention. I just wanted to get through the day so I could run back to my room and be by myself. I used to sit there in my classroom staring out the windows, waiting to go home and return to my safe haven.

While other kids hung out with one another, played sports, or tore up the playground, I spent a lot of time in my room. Id even tie a scarf around the doorknob just to be sure no one would unexpectedly come in and ruin my introverted fun. It would be full-blown bliss. Once I turned on that Jodeci from my pile of CDs, slow love songs would fill up any emptiness in my room oh, you couldnt tell me nothing. I wasnt in love with anyone then, but babyyyy did I love to sing a good sad love song to pass the time.

When I wasnt chilling in my bedroom, I was running around with my older brother, Hosea, who was named after my dad and his dad. Believe it or not, I was a tomboy who wanted to run around the neighborhood until the streetlights came on instead of playing inside with dolls.

Hosea was only two years older than me but instead of that natural sibling rivalry, I was obsessed with my big brother. Our entire family was. At my mommas house, Hosea was her most cherished son, and at my fathers house, he seemed to rule over everything. There was something about Hoseahe had this ability to be exactly who he was every second of the day. I was not only enamored with him, but also inspired by him.