Crysta J. Bloom

Educator, Artist, Activist

It all started when…

I read the biography of Maya Angelou. As a young girl she was the victim of poverty, dislocation, and sexual assault. The trauma she experienced caused Maya to retreat inward and grow silent. That was until she met an educator that lovingly guided Maya out of silence. This teacher encouraged and nurtured Maya's love of poetry and literature and she began to express herself through her love of art. Maya began to heal. 

I read this story and thought of my own childhood. A sensitive, soft spoken child with a love of books and day dreaming. My mother saw the potential in her youngest daughter and encouraged me to get into theater. It changed my life. Acting taught me how to be fearless, honestly in touch with my emotions, resourceful under pressure, and the beauty of connection and collaboration with others. I attended a performing arts high school and graduated with a 4.1 grade point average. After graduating I attended Howard University and later Clark Atlanta University with a major in education. I was an educator and child advocate for close to 10 years in public schools, private institutions, and the nonprofit sector before creating The Bloom Sisterhood Society. I continued to express myself through art and surround myself with women of color artists and creatives. 

TBSS was born out of a love for Black womanhood and a desire to protect it. During my time as a teacher I grew frustrated with the lack of opportunity for free expression, especially for children of color. I created The Bloom Sisterhood Society because girls of color deserve a place to feel nurtured, inspired, loved, and motivated. They deserve a place to heal and feel free. 

"Teachers can be healers. And so can other influential adults who shape the trajectories of young people. When Black girl energy is uncontainable, we can jump up and dance with them. When the world is painful, we can scream with our girls, not at them. If the world weighs heavy on them, we can teach them to write, and we can sit and write with them. We can have longer conversations and longer tempers. We can let them lead and question and thrive. As educators, there will be times we must push hard- push girls to fulfill their unique promise, their brilliance, and their capacity for greatness. But sometimes Black girls don't need a push at all. Sometimes, as any educator who genuinely engages the person behind the behavior can tell you, Black girls simply need to be embraced and loved just as they are." - Author, Monique Morris