30 January 2025 2 minute read
The wind roared, bending palm trees until they snapped, shaking the very foundation of her home and sending waves crashing into neighborhoods that were never meant to hold the ocean. Inside her home in St. Thomas, Savannah Woodson (Class of 2026) held her breath as the sound of destruction came from every direction.“The winds were 200 miles per hour. Doors flew open. Water was rushing in. The ceilings were leaking. And then—just darkness. No power. No running water,” she recalls.
Four days, her family carefully stretched the remaining food, relying on gas stoves, and watching as supplies dwindled. “There were five of us, plus our pitbull, plus our cat. The freezer wasn’t working. We had non-perishables, but everything was running out.”Eventually, the situation forced them to evacuate on an emergency cruise ship to Maryland, leaving behind the only home she had ever known.
For two years, she navigated life in a home that wasn’t hers, in a city that seemed unfamiliar. The weight of displacement weighed heavy on her chest. “I had to sit with a counselor, but honestly? Art was my therapy,” she says. “That was the one thing that got me through.”
But Woodson’s journey started long before the storm. It began much earlier, before the wind displacement before art became a refuge. She was always immersed in creativity, even in the most unexpected places. “I started when I was little—like, I’d be at home vacuuming and then I’d get distracted and just start drawing,” she laughs. “My parents bought me some art supplies, and that was it. I took off.”
In middle school, she joined an after school art program at a local studio, a space that nurtured her creativity and encouraged her to experiment with different materials each week. “That studio was everything. It pushed me to imagine, to create without limits,” she says. By high school, her work evolved beyond personal expression– it was award-winning. She won the U.S. Congressional Art Competition, earning the honor of having her piece displayed in the U.S. Capitol. “I got to fly to D.C. to see it in person. That was the moment I realized—this is serious. This isn’t just a hobby.”
Arriving at Spelman College, she had no doubts about her path. “I came in knowing I wanted to major in Art History. I love fine arts, but I also wanted to study the movements, the culture, the meaning behind art,” she explains. That choice became the gateway to a wealth of unreal opportunities. She never could’ve imagined.
Through the AUC Art Collective, Woodson’s world expanded beyond what she ever anticipated. “I’ve already had three internships. I’ve traveled for exhibitions. I’ve been to Los Angeles, New Orleans, Arkansas, Switzerland. And next month, I’m going back to L.A.,” she says, still amazed at how far she’s come. “I never knew opportunities like this existed for people like me.”
But her impact extends beyond her accomplishments—it lies in the legacy she’s building. “I want to show that it’s okay to be your most authentic, unapologetic self,” she says. “You don’t have to fit into a mold. You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone else. Your journey is yours. God has a plan for you, and only you.”
At Spelman, there’s often an unspoken expectation of what a Spelman woman is supposed to be—polished, poised, involved in specific organizations and pursuing traditional paths of excellence. While Woodson honors that legacy, she knows there’s room for those who carve their own way. “I used to feel imposter syndrome, like maybe I wasn’t doing enough or doing the ‘right’ things. But once I started fully embracing art, the doors just started opening. I’ve met amazing people, worked with incredible changemakers, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
She is more than an artist—she is a visionary, a storyteller, and a woman who turns pain into beauty, and survival into legacy. As she continues to paint, explore and travel, one thing remains clear: Woodson’s story is still being written and with each breaststroke, she is crafting a story that’s still unfolding.