Safe, Sustainable, and Black-Owned: A Woman On A Mission

Dr. Kristian Edwards, founder of BLK + GRN, opens up about her purpose-driven work, a life-changing car accident and the resounding lesson of starting over and moving at her own pace.

By Dr. Kristian Edwards, as told to Ashley Simpo

Portraits by Travis Matthews

The Origins

I created BLK + GRN in 2017 out of pure necessity. I was a public health professor when I came across an article that changed everything for me. It stated that the products marketed to Black women are more toxic than those marketed to any other demographic.

At that very moment, I decided to commit to conscientious consumerism. So, true to my organized nature, I looked up product ingredients to see if they were on toxic watch lists from the Environmental Working Group. The research was laborious, so I found natural and sustainable marketplaces that did some of the work for me.

About six months into that journey, I read Our Black Year: ​​One Family's Quest to Buy Black in America's Racially Divided Economy by Maggie Anderson and started to think not only about what I was buying but who I was buying from. Anderson laid out the case that if we're conscientious consumers and we purchase Black-owned products, we’re voting with our dollars.

I never saw my purchasing habits that way before, as power in my hand that I wasn't using. So, I returned to my lists and took everything out that wasn’t all natural and Black-owned. Throughout testing, sorting and researching the products, I really needed one place to pull everything together — so I created BLK + GRN.

Overcoming Criticism

At its inception, the idea faced a lot of criticism. Mainly because there's a negative assumption that Black-owned things are not “as good as.” I wanted to change the narrative and prove that we can have Black, high-end, all-natural products.

People told me Black people would not spend money to buy clean and sustainable products. That if they could get one deodorant for a few dollars, why would they pay ten dollars for another one, even if it’s healthier? And the reality is that clean products do cost more to make and package.

But, when we have information about harm, we are empowered to make different decisions. We invest in things that support our minds and bodies.

My doctorate dissertation was on health disparities and understanding that Black people have worse outcomes than everyone else. I wanted people to know why their health is worth those extra nine dollars on deodorant. I knew that Black women are conscientious, and once we have the information, we make different choices.

Another critique that I fought against in the beginning was whether I wanted my marketplace to include businesses owned by all people of color. But my intention is to exclusively amplify products made for and by Black women, and I was very intentional about protecting and providing that space. I knew what work I was being drawn to do.

After George Floyd’s murder, there was this big collective push for supporting Black-owned brands. Whenever the police do something awful, the mass response is to give back and support Black brands. So in 2020, my sales quadrupled — and then went back down. The surge in sales was a moment, not a movement, that provided sustainable change for us. I want to see Black businesses thrive consistently, not just when Blackness is trending.

The Art of Adaptation

Since the launch of my business, a lot about my life has changed. For example, back in 2017, I didn’t have kids or a husband. So, navigating a business along with a marriage and two toddlers has been an interesting learning experience, especially around my own conditioned work habits.

When I first started BLK + GRN, my warehouse was in my closet. Every order that came through was packed and shipped out by me — and I just don't have the time to do that anymore.

So, I’ve learned to lean into my magic; the things that are worth spending my time and energy on. Now I have a fulfillment center that does it for me. And, of course, it’s a Black-woman-owned fulfillment center.

The Strong Black Woman

Learning to hire a team and ask for help was another hard-learned lesson for me; I think it’s difficult for a lot of Black women founders. American society has taught us to take everything upon ourselves. We don't know how to ask for help because, historically, we’ve had to do it ourselves.

Being so independent sounds appealing, but it's a gift and a curse. Once, an investor told me they love investing in Black women-owned businesses because “Black women are scrappy,” he said, “They’ll get it done no matter what.”

It’s a loaded compliment because, yes, they were right, Black women get it done. But what kind of trauma do we endure because of it? We get it done even if we kill ourselves, even if it affects our families, and even if we run ourselves into the ground. This investor was right, but it hurt.

The truth of the matter is we need help and we need support, which is why it’s imperative to have a strong circle. You'll have hard days and you’ll need someone to talk to, someone to unload what you’re feeling. Pursue your grind and hustle, but don’t do it alone.

I think we also feel the pressure to be perfect. Then when we aren't, we feel our worth diminish instead of remembering our humanity. We have to treat ourselves with better care. And we also have to make peace with our mistakes. Mistakes don’t make you dumb, they make you better.

Life After a Coma

Then, July 1, 2019, happened, and everything changed. I struggle now with memory, but that's one memory I haven’t lost.

That day, as my husband drove us home from my parents’ house with our four-month-old son in the back, a car hit us. When my airbag didn't deploy, I was immediately knocked into a coma and our baby boy was injured. The police came and my husband jumped in the ambulance with my son while I was airlifted to a different hospital.

My son, who was being treated an hour away, had a broken rib and a hematoma so my husband had to run back and forth to see both of us. I suffered a traumatic brain injury and a part of my skull had to be removed. For about six months, I had to wear a helmet until my skull could be restored.

After being in a coma for two weeks, all I wanted to do was get out of the hospital. When it was time to transfer to a rehab center, they pushed a wheelchair to the door of my room to roll me to my car. I refused. They insisted and told me it was hospital policy. I said, “No, I'm just not doing it.” They had to leave and find someone in management to talk to me, and as soon as they did, I walked out.

Now I live with a disability, and I’m still trying to adjust to what that means. I had to learn everything all over again — how to bathe, how to eat, how to walk and how to talk. In the beginning, my husband even had to wipe me because I didn’t know how to do it myself. During that time, it was really hard to see myself on the other side of my injury. I felt like everything was over and that I would essentially be a vegetable and remain dependent for the rest of my life.

My neurosurgeon, who told my family that while my body would come back, my mind would be much harder to recover, also said something that changed everything for me. He pulled me aside and said, “I usually don't tell people this, but I also had a brain injury.” He explained that something told him to tell me that after his injury, he went on to attend medical school and became a surgeon.

I’m so thankful that he shared his story with me because his words woke something up inside. It gave me more grit to keep fighting the same way I fought to walk out of that hospital on my own feet.

On the other side of my injury is a lesson in slowing down. I process things slower and it takes me longer to get things done. My memory is also challenged, so I developed new ways of operating in the world. For example, now I write everything down and ask people to send me emails summarizing our calls so I don’t forget anything. Before bed, I do something I call “the brain dump,” and write down everything I want to do the next day so I can't forget.

Rebirth

But living with a new disability hasn’t only been about restrictions; I’ve also gained a new superpower. My husband, who was by my side the entire time, described what happened during my coma in this beautiful way. He said, “You were kind like a child. You were reborn again.” Being so close to death has given me an entirely new perspective on life and on the things that used to bother me. Now, I say, “Kristian, that shit doesn’t matter.” If it’s not life or death, it’s not worth losing my peace over.

I’m more patient and understanding; I take things less personally. I find that it’s easier to jump to empathy instead of defensiveness because I relate to people differently now.

Partnership in Practice

My husband and I make this joke with each other all the time about how we got about a decade's worth of marriage within a couple of years. It’s been incredibly hard, but it’s also been beautiful. We’ve learned a lot about partnership and marriage.

And we've learned how to communicate with each other better. We've learned to express our needs instead of expecting the other person to read our minds. As a Black woman who never asks for help, I learned to ask my partner for what I need. But first, you have to know what you need, then you can articulate it. I think many people want a relationship where someone understands them intrinsically when they don't understand themselves. How can someone else know more about you than you know about yourself?

I feel like this trickles down into parenthood as well. Kids force you to be the best version of yourself because now you have little mirrors. Everything you say, everything you do, they're going to absorb and embody. We're not going to do it all perfectly, but we try to do it consciously and thoughtfully because we’re trying to raise thoughtful kids, and raising thoughtful kids is challenging. A thoughtful child will ask you “why” even when you're not in the mood, and that’s okay. I don’t want to have to appear perfect to my kids. Some days I have to be patient and answer a million questions; other days, I can’t do that. I can tell my child that I’m not in the mood, and he’ll accept that mommy is human.

Superpower

Whether I’m building a business to solve a problem or building myself back up after an enormous setback, I have proven that determination is my superpower. My determination is why I stay so curious, always looking for a solution to the things that perplex me. I know that even when we find solutions to problems, those problems can change. BLK + GRN solved the challenge of finding Black women creators in beauty and wellness, but what else can we do? What other problems need to be addressed?

In slowing down and realizing what matters most to me, I know it’s my family and the legacy of joy I want to create. If BLK + GRN were a multimillion-dollar company and I had to choose between my company and the happiness of my boys and my husband, I would choose my family every day of the week.

I can’t do it all overnight, but I can do my best every day. I always say that my daily goal is being one percent better than I was yesterday. I’m constantly growing. If I can be a little better each day, I think that’s an enormous victory.

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