Katie Jett Walls is a mighty force
“Sometimes the Heroine needs rest and reflection, and there is no shame in ending a chapter."
My husband, Jordan, and I have a saying: “I went all Katie Jett on them.” This is shorthand for, “I spoke my unabashed truth to them,” and is based on the countless times we’ve seen our friend, Katie (now a Jett Walls, not just a Jett), do just that, both in person and through her work.
I met Katie through the Washington, DC, improv scene, and we bonded as fellow business-owner-slash-artists; I remember our long walks in Rock Creek Park and that one time we spontaneously met for a beer in the middle of the day (side note: make a point of making spontaneous plans with someone you love in the middle of a weekday…it’s wonderful). Later, when I was hired as a storytelling advisor to Melinda French Gates’s Pivotal Ventures, one thing I advised them was to hire Katie; brilliant as they are, they agreed. She curated a photo essay around the theme of caregiving in the pandemic; unsurprisingly, she knocked it out of the goddamn park.
Katie is an astute, heart-centered storyteller, and the founder of Confluence Magazine, “the place where our smaller stream of documentary work meets and mixes with the river of stories being made and shared with the world” … and yet, that’s not why I chose to interview her. Instead, I invited her to share her voice on this platform because more than anyone I know, she lives bravely in the space of allowing herself to morph and change as life unfolds. And I think her example is one we all need right now.
Amanda: If your own story — the Story of Katie — was published or produced right now, what medium and/or genre would feel like the right fit, and why? A moody detective film? An irreverent graphic novel? A sassy gif? There are nowrong answers.
Katie Jett: Wow, I never would have thought of a graphic novel (even though my ten-year-old’s room is littered with them) but I kind of love that idea! I love it because a lot of my memories are visuals — scenes and frames. I think that a graphic novel would do a really good job moving through all the phases of my life, honoring the disconnects but also finding the unbroken thread of me in all those phases. Then again, I love the idea of summing everything up in a half-page, bell hooks-esque poem. That would be pretty good, too.
Amanda: Imagine you're at a super-chill backyard gathering. The friend whose house you're at goes to introduce you to someone who just showed up. What could they say that would light you up?
Katie: Let me think back to what it was like to be at backyard gatherings with people I’ve not met yet…lol… I’d love to hear, “Katie is an artist who has used her whole crazy life and all her various jobs to propel her along the way. She’s currently plotting about how to paint from a camper in the desert.”
Amanda: Tell us a bit of your own story. Where did you grow up?
Katie: There are a lot really complicated aspects to my childhood that aren’t easily encapsulated. It can be hard for me to separate the easy-to-talk about stuff from the kinds of things that, well, get deep real fast.
But I did grow up in the Midwest (Oklahoma) and in the South (Alabama), and I find that the sensibilities of those two regions are well-rooted in me. I lived in small towns and rural settings — there was a lot of church and big families and chore charts and home cooking and visits with grandparents.
Amanda: Looking in the rear view mirror — what narratives were core to your childhood?
Katie: Interesting question. Core narratives — I had to think about this for a while. I’d have to say some of those core narratives are that I’m important and have influence, that I’m capable and intelligent. I don’t think I always wielded those traits well (and the adults around me didn’t give the kind of guidance that Adult Me would agree with), and it took a lot of growing up and some therapy to land in a place where those traits feel well-honed and truly useful. But I am very grateful that I’ve always been able to trust my gut and sit in the driver’s seat of my life.
Amanda: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Katie: Oh it changed a lot! Much the same that what I actually AM as a grown up changes a lot! Teacher, astronaut, lawyer, writer — I think one of the common threads there was that I wanted to be someone important to others, making a positive impact, and also being respected for the work that I did. That desire to make a positive impact and be respected hasn’t changed, although it has mellowed a bit with age — and also with the enforced introversion of a global pandemic. I’ve gotten much more comfortable with doing work for my own satisfaction, with less hustle and more ease.
As an adult I’ve been a community relations manager for a major bookseller, a fundraiser for charter schools and cancer research, a self-employed photographer, founder of an online magazine, and a painter. A lot of those roles have overlapped and flowed one into another without hard transition. Only the last one — painter — has been a solitary, inward-looking role. That’s a change to my personality that I find intriguing and am curious to see where it leads.
Amanda: What was your own journey to realizing the power of story?
Katie: Hmmm… I almost think I’ve always known the power of a story. I’ve always been a reader — stories of all kinds have always accompanied me in life as far back as I can remember: Fiction and nonfiction, a few classics, and countless novels.
But I’m pretty sure the connection between the power of a lifetime of stories and my own story probably arose through a cocktail of Brene Brown, therapy, and the weird cultural changes of the Trump years. I have touched on my complicated upbringing —long story short: I grew up largely in an evangelical homeschooling environment that included a few years in what’s now widely acknowledged to be a cult; no college; and mostly-loving but flawed adults in my life. Brene Brown’s work on overcoming shame in favor of vulnerability and authenticity paired well with a few years of therapy in helping me come to terms with my own past experiences. The “Trump years” actually offered an opportunity to speak with insight on the types of folks drawn to his ideas — I grew up in that world, and also made my way out of it. Having that insight made it easier to talk about my own story, which ultimately made me less embarrassed to have it known. I also came to better appreciate the paths I took from there to where I am now, and to feel a sense of accomplishment in building a life that’s true to who I am.
Amanda: Tell me about Confluence Magazine. Why did you start it?
Katie: I started Confluence Magazine as a platform for emerging photographic storytellers to bring their stories into the world in hopes of helping those stories reach a wider audience. The established media outlets don’t have a lot of room for new voices — though I’m thrilled to say that I’ve seen significant change in the last few years! In the past, available photographic storytelling space has been largely occupied by white male photographers, because the pathways into the field cater to them. I created Confluence Magazine to provide space for photographers whose lived experience doesn't “match up” to the white male norm, in hopes of seeing more stories by non-traditional voices: women, minorities, parents, older emerging artists, etc.
I also ended Confluence Magazine when my own lived experience couldn’t sustain the work of keeping it going — a heartbreaking choice but one made in a time of massive upheaval (pandemic) and personal adjustment. It’s very hard when your own story takes a turn you’d prefer to write differently — I’d much rather that my Heroine push through, find collaborators, keep that light burning and come out stronger on the other side. But sometimes the Heroine needs rest and reflection, and there is no shame in ending a chapter, no shame in mourning a miscarried brainchild, and moving on.
Amanda: What has been your most rewarding experience as a storyteller?
Katie: In 2018 and 2019 I worked on a photo documentary project about a particularly challenging phase of life that a friend of mine was going through. He was the only caregiver to his partner who has severe bipolar disorder, and was himself facing significant health issues. During the course of that project, his marriage ended and he navigated an eviction and search for a new place to live. Through each phase he also addressed a seemingly endless tunnel of bureaucracy from the agencies and organizations whose role it was to provide assistance and help. Bearing witness to his strength through that gauntlet of life events was probably the most powerful experience I’ve had as a storyteller. Making photographs that successfully conveyed his state of mind, the state of our social safety net in America, and doing justice to his perseverance was an immensely rewarding challenge.
Here are a few photos from the documentary project Katie just described:
Amanda: If someone reading this thinks they don’t have a story to tell — what would you say to them?
Katie: Not having a story is very different from deciding when and to whom you will tell your story. We do all have a story, but also most of us benefit from a helper in figuring that story out. Great writers start out with coaches or writing groups… and really great writers always have editors. Storytelling photographers and photojournalists also work with editors because it can be hard to find the narrative thread when you’re living through the events as they unfold. Don’t be afraid to find your “editor” — a trusted friend, a therapist, a consultant. Finding that thread is really powerful, and human beings connect through stories. And we thrive on connection. Also, you’re in control of your story and you can choose to share it on your own terms; don’t neglect owning your story just because you’re not yet ready to tell your story.
“It’s great to become a well-known name and get that recognition for your work — it really is. But it’s also great to keep telling stories when you never get well-known, to keep giving those tales even when your sphere of influence remains small.”
- Katie Jett Walls
Amanda: Tell me about some storytellers you admire and why.
Katie: I’m fucking surrounded by storytellers I admire. Tana French, who writes books that I can’t put down. Trevor Noah, who makes me laugh at even the most frustrating news topics through the way he tells the story. Lynsey Addario, who’s a conflict photographer and mostly focuses on the impact of conflict on women and children. Friends too many to name — but let me say Chelsea Silberies and Angela Douglas and Margaret Albaugh and Neil Kramer — who are photographers of their everyday lives — documenting the uncompensated work of caregiving and the lives of children and old people and their own interactions in world that is full of joy and pain and valor and injustice, every damn day.
It’s great to become a well-known name and get that recognition for your work — it really is. But it’s also great to keep telling stories when you never get well-known, to keep giving those tales even when your sphere of influence remains small.
Amanda: Why does the world need more women’s stories?
Katie: Because for far too long men have curated the whole narrative of human life on this planet. They’ve had the time and the societal permission to do that. Half the world is women so a solid 50% of human experience is from the female perspective: half the stories should also be. We’re behind (and there’s been a lot of effort put into keeping us behind).
Our stories are needed because we hold half the world’s experience in our souls. Keeping those stories under wraps keeps half the world in the dark about their own experiences — other women think they are alone or atypical or unimportant because they’ve never heard from the rest of us to know that they’re actually connected and necessary.
I recently read and loved Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey. She’s the first female translator of the epic poem and she has challenged many of the notions of male-dominated translations through history — and it makes for a richer story, because a woman bothered to dig deep into what those words mean and brings a different perspective on each character in the story.
Powerful stuff.
Links you might want to click on:
Check out the photo essay Katie curated, What I See: What taking care of each other looks like in a pandemic
Read my conversation with Cindy Gallop, feminist disrupter and founder of Make Love Not Porn
❣️ 🙏 If you enjoyed this interview, it would mean a lot to me if you’d encourage other women to become paid subscribers of Mighty Forces Express. You can also give a paid subscription as a gift. Content like this takes a lot of time and care to create, and your support helps me do more. Thank you.