About me
After 8 years in the advertising industry as a human resources professional, I’ve returned to my first love — writing and editing. While I enjoy creating, I’m enthralled with the editing process; I love making things better. I’m a mom, a Realtor®, daughter to a veteran, and a police survivor.
Experience
Freelance, writer, Editor & CONSULTANT Atlanta
September 2012 - Present
Notable Clients: Huge, The Connector, Synergy Entertainment, Urban Music Tours, Equifax, The Coca-Cola Company, DeKalb Community Service Board, Wren’s Nest
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Mother USA, Director, People Team // Atlanta
January 2023 - January 2024
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COde & Theory, Associate Director, Talent acquisition // New York
January 2022 - January 2023
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Huge, Manager Creative Talent & Operations // Brooklyn
May 2019 - January 2022
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Digitas, Senior Creative Recruiter // New York
January 2018 - May 2019
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Barkley, Recruiter // Kansas City
November 2016 - October 2017
Interests
Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion
Career Development
Personal Development
Parenthood
Real Estate
Law & Policy
Education
Savannah College of Art & Design, ATLANTA
M.F.A WRITING
Graduated June 2016
Georgia State University, ATLANTA
B.A. PHILOSOPHY (PRE-LAW)
Graduated December 2012
Contact
Email: melody.m.benjamin@gmail.com
Phone: 404.831.4155
Address: Atlanta, ga
ESSAYS
Becoming a Good Ancestor
An interview with Darien LaBeach, the diversity, equity, and inclusion strategy director at Huge.
Grassroots efforts toward organizational and systemic change too often go unnoticed, uncelebrated. We quote Martin. We revere Malcolm. We adore Barack. Black history is an endless revolution with no small actors. We all have a part in Black history. Whether you contribute directly as a Black person, play a supporting role as an ally, stand by idly as an indifferent party, or as an active detractor of the Black community, your involvement or lack thereof matters.
After interviewing Darien LaBeach, it became clear to me that his brilliance far exceeds repartee. He is a scholar of questions, a true strategist. When posed with a question, he first dissects it. His elegant responses to my inquiries were telling. His dissection of certain questions revealed my unconscious resignation to Black history, my penchant for icons. I’d resigned to relying on Black Lives Matter, Mr. Obama, and the residual efforts of our forefathers to lead the charge. I have dreams. I have a sense of purpose, but it wasn’t until this conversation that I realized that history, my history, Black history demands that I consciously do my part.
Knowing Is Not Enough
An essay on allyship.
It isn’t enough to know that Black lives matter. It isn’t enough to march and protest. It isn’t enough that you educate yourself on the oppression of the Black community. The Black community deserves more than politics. It deserves your commitment when #BlackLivesMatter stops trending. It deserves the same adoration you have of Black culture. It deserves your heart. Your mind simply isn’t enough. Facts and figures serve as poor tinder when you grow tired of this conversation. Knowledge has not and will not save America.
Whitesplaining racism isn’t helpful. Explaining trauma you’ve never experienced, that you can’t experience, is insulting. We’ve lived this trauma. We are tired of talking about racism. We are tired of being triggered to appease your curiosity and entitlement. We are tired of spoon-feeding you the truth. We are tired of witnessing white tears and catering to white guilt. We are tired of watching snuff starring our brothers and sisters. We are tired of treading the Middle Passage.
“This isn’t work you will find gratifying; winning will feel like losing because privilege is all you’ve ever known.”
Making Money Moves
An Interview with Amanda George, Senior Visual Design Lead at Huge
Women can do anything, and that includes pivoting from one successful career to the next. Being able to walk away from everything you know and begin again, to not only learn a new skill but to become proficient and highly sought after. Amanda George did just that. She went from being a media planning powerhouse to a deeply talented designer.
After breaking it to her parents that she wasn’t pursuing law, she decided on a business degree in Advertising and Media Communications. In search of direction, she bought a book on careers in advertising and landed on media planning. A few years into her career, she realized she was bored. She wanted to be a part of something that was more fulfilling and creative. At the time, she didn’t know that being a full-time designer was something that people “really did.” She chatted with a couple guys who were designers, and then it clicked.
JOURNALISM
Time Stands Still for Every Man
Just before I reach the “Welcome to Inman Park” sign, to the left, stands an unassuming building–a converted school. There’s plenty of space to park. I gather myself and head for the sign that reads: Entrance. I enter. The signage is quite clear, prompting me to make a right. I head up the stairs, and I’m greeted by smiling faces. I take notice of the variant demographic that lingers.
Soon after, we’re released to the house, where I select my seat–high and center. The set is beautiful. The makings of an old studio apartment, a rusted steel door with a city latch, worldly furniture that features the characters’ taste and a panoramic view for the audience to enjoy.
Dare to Bare: “Insecurities Collection” by Tai Williams
Rori-TAI Williams, second-year MFA photography student, is currently presenting her thesis exhibition, “Insecurities Collection.” Her exhibit highlights insecurities from stretch marks, to issues of pregnancy, birthmarks and pubic hair. Each of her subjects appear to be naked. She capitalizes on the vulnerability of nakedness. Williams goes there. She takes us to the brink of our own insecurities by zooming in on the very thing that many photographers try to hide.
Instead of correcting blemishes, she brings attention to them. She admits that the lighting used dares to even enhance the depth of these imperfections. The photographs are raw and intimate. When I share my reaction to the exhibit, Williams said, “Intimate and raw. Yes, that’s exactly how I would describe it.”
All the insecurities are faceless, which allow for the viewer to see themselves and not someone else. That’s the point: to call the viewer to remember their flaws and convince them that they’re actually beautiful. All the photos are also in black and white, which also help to mask race. In some instances, you have no idea who you are looking at, but their flaws are evident.
Scattered about the gallery, Williams strategically places various items related to insecurities. Makeup is broken and smeared. Cocoa-butter lip balm, a dress fitted to a mannequin, a measuring tape and hair clips are among the things she uses to further harp her point.
KontraBand Muzik Serves Up a Hot Plate:
The Dish on Travis Barker and the Industry
The Atlanta music scene is as varied as it is unique and KontraBand Muzik, the “mash-up” prototype of musical configuration, is cleverly eccentric. After leaving their home state of Indiana and embossing their mark on the Midwest, they’ve now ventured to Atlanta, where the Georgia peaches are being wowed and wooed by their talent and beatnik swagger. This band is the non-conformist’s dream come true and meeting the members of this crafty ensemble was definitely refreshing—like that first gulp of a frosty Coke. At first glance, it doesn’t make sense: hip-hop, rock, and pop. Amazingly, these ingredients serve up a mighty fine dish!
The band entails five, fine members: “out the box” DJ Unorthodox, Leon Kittrell (the wicked drummer), Davey Ab Heritier (the giddy, gritty guitarist), Jeremy Taylor (the bigger than life bassist), and “big mic” Nate Davis. Each member brings their own flavor to this gumbo, which makes for a spicy performance. The proof is definitely in the pudding, and after witnessing KontraBand perform at Buckhead Saloon, I’m sold. This band brought the head-banger out of me. My neck was sore for days, after dancing front stage, in four and a half inch heels—non-stop. This band committed itself to the audience, and I was left no choice but to rock out the entire night.
FICTION
“Summer of 1973”
The first time I heard Goodbye Yellow Brick Road I was crossing the Alabama-Georgia state lines, hair shifting wildly in the wind. Exasperated, the clunky Chevy huffed through the ground of pine and red clay. My blonde strands catching the edge of my sunglasses and left foot kissing the driver-side mirror. I lifted the dusty aviators from my face and stared hard at the bruises. At the very least, I wouldn’t have to explain to my mother why I was back. The blues, greens and purples were clear indicators of failure. She wouldn’t want to say, “I told you so.”
The day I left my lungs were ablaze, my face furious with tears and my body rattled like that old coupe’s engine. She wrestled me to the ground, convinced that her strength would be enough. She pinned me to that floor, staring at me, devoid all hope. At some point, she’d have to let me go. After awhile, she rolled over on the floor, lying next to me. I fiddled with my ring, the signifier of her madness. Her whisper crackled: “Go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back.”