Textures of Becoming: The Cradine Effect

one of the things I’ve always found fascinating is how certain people can build entire platforms just by being themselves. Not by chasing trends or doing what everyone else is doing, but simply by showing up as they are, unapologetically. That’s not easy. It takes a certain kind of self-awareness, an aura, an energy that pulls people in without trying too hard. It’s rare. When I came across Cradine’s page, I was first drawn in by the aesthetics. She had this soft but electric presence that made me pause and realize I wasn’t using my free will to its full potential. That thought stuck with me. So I kept scrolling. And what I found wasn’t just a vibe, it was a whole ecosystem of creativity. Rugs. Pole dancing. Crochet. Content. Wit. Grace. Vulnerability. She was doing it all, and doing it all while still being very much herself. That’s when I knew I wanted to have a conversation with her.

What I didn’t expect was just how grounded and sharp she is. Especially for her age, Cradine possesses a level of emotional intelligence and self-reflection that’s rare. Throughout our talk, she would catch herself ~ pointing out where her thoughts overlapped, where she might’ve rambled or contradicted herself. That kind of awareness made for one of the most refreshing, honest conversations I’ve had in a while.

This isn’t just a story about talent. It’s a story about resilience. About the kind of work that happens behind closed doors long before the recognition ever shows up. It’s about knowing yourself so well that the outside world can’t shake you. And now, as she continues to grow into new passions and expand her creative reach, she remains focused, intentional, and most of all | rooted.

I’m excited to share this conversation with you. Whether you’re here for the art, the insight, or just some good ol’ soul food for thought, take your time with it. I hope something here resonates.

Enjoy the interview below.

Let’s start with something light. If you could pick a theme song for your life right now, what would it be?

Oh my gosh… that’s a hard question. Lately I’ve had Bad Religion by Frank Ocean and Since I Fell For You by Lenny Welch on repeat. I know they’re both kind of about unrequited love, and I don’t want that to be my theme song right now because it’s not really where I’m at. But something about them resonates.

That’s real. So what is it about those songs that hits so hard for you?

I think it’s because even if I’m not going through that right now, that feeling of giving love and not getting it back has been a reoccurring theme in my life. Not just romantically, but even platonically. There was a time I felt unwanted. And maybe I’ve even felt that way about myself sometimes. Like, I can see the beauty in everyone else, root for them, pour into them, but not always into me. It’s not envy, it’s something deeper. A quiet yearning to love myself the way I love others.

I know that feeling too well. But you seem like you’ve really grown in that awareness.

Yeah. I think the reason those songs hit so much now is because I don’t feel that way anymore. I know how to walk away from people and situations that don’t serve me. I’ve learned how to show up for myself, and that’s powerful. I love R&B because it captures that depth, that ache, but now I listen from a place of strength, not longing.

Let’s talk about your current passions. What are you creating and loving most these days?

Right now? Pole dancing. Creating content. Documenting my life like a TV show. I actually have a tattoo inspired by Brent Faiyaz’s Sonder, the idea that everyone around you is living a full life just like you are. I try to live with that awareness. Like I’m a character in someone else’s background scene, and they’re in mine.

I try to live with that awareness. Like I’m a character in someone else’s background scene, and they’re in mine.

That’s poetic. So, how did pole dancing even begin for you?

I got my first apartment at 19 after being homeless. I told myself, when I get a space that’s mine, I’m putting up a pole. So I bought one off Amazon. It was too short. Bought another one, tried to combine them, didn’t work. I was just freestyling, didn’t know what I was doing. But I’d still walk around it looking cute, do a little twerk. That was my joy. It fell down a few times ~ I didn’t install it right. But I loved it anyway.

Then, I was about to start 75 Hard again. I’ve completed it twice now. And if you know that challenge, you know it’s no joke. But the gym just wasn’t cutting it for me. I’m not a gym person. Going alone felt isolating, and half the time, I didn’t even know what I was doing. I needed a workout I could look forward to.

I told a friend I wanted to take some pole classes, just to make things easier on myself while I’m doing the challenge. He told me about a homegirl of his who taught classes, and wasn’t far away. I booked four sessions with her right then. The next day, I met her in person and we clicked instantly. Her name’s Elena, but she goes by E. She owns the studio and she has a brand called Vertical Appeal. After just a few rounds of sessions, four or five sets of classes, she was like, we’re always together anyway, and you’ve got a platform. I want to offer you an ambassador opportunity.

That must’ve felt like a full-circle moment, getting back into your body and also being seen by someone who really believed in you.

She’s everything to me in this space. She’s like my sister and my biggest inspiration. She really helped me understand what this discipline is about. Because pole is not easy. It’s not just twirling around looking cute. You need strength, breath control, flexibility, coordination, and confidence. It’s serious work. It’s a full-body thing, and it humbles you. I’m short, so I had some extra challenges starting out, but I stuck with it.

It sounds like it did more for you than just give you a new workout.

Oh, for sure. It gave me a sense of self. Like, I was remembering who I was while I was learning how to hold myself up. I started teaching classes, going to workshops, showing up at showcases. I’m not performing yet, but it’s coming. Pole helped me own my presence. Even just walking around the pole ~ there’s power in that. It’s not even about the moves. It’s about how I carry myself now.

I know you mentioned it also opened doors in unexpected ways, like your crochet work.

Yeah. That’s the beautiful part. Through pole, I’ve met people who ended up supporting my crochet business too. It’s like the universe was showing me how everything I love could work together if I stayed open. Pole connected me to people who respected my craft, my style, my voice. It all kind of started clicking.

And now you’re looking at expanding even further with your own dancewear line?

Yes. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Most of the outfits available are made for strippers—which I have nothing but love and respect for—but they’re not always practical for teaching or content creation. I usually end up dancing in swimsuits or fitness sets. But I want more. I want outfits that feel like magic. That let you feel like a fairy without feeling exposed. Something cute, functional, expressive. Something that makes you feel like yourself without compromising what you’re comfortable sharing.

That’s so needed. Now that you mention it, I can see a real gap in that space.

Right. And I think it combines the best of what I love. Movement and making. It feels like the next natural step. And I want to do it in a way that honors all the parts of me. Creative, sensual, strong, soft, and grounded.

That’s fire. Do you feel like pole dancing helped you reclaim something?

Absolutely. There’s so much stigma. People want to separate pole from stripping like the roots don’t matter. I don’t strip, but I respect the hell out of strippers. This whole art form came from them. And a lot of the moves people teach now were born in the clubs. It’s frustrating when people want the aesthetic without respecting the source.

Alright, I have to ask, what’s the deal with tacos? I heard you love them.

Tacos are my happy place. But not in a cute, quirky way. It’s deeper than that. They were one of the only things I could look forward to during a time in my life when I didn’t have much control or comfort. When I was younger, my mom passed away. I was just three. I spent a lot of time being raised by my grandma, my village in Jamaica, and the women who loved and looked after me. But things shifted when I went to live with my dad.

How was that?

Well, I lost the people that I spent the most of my life with. Living with him felt like prison. My dad worked a lot and he just wasn’t concerned or considerate. The only time we really had food in the house was when he had a girlfriend. From the outside, people saw one version of him. But what I got was… different. He was more of a presence than a parent. Some days he’d come home, and yeah, maybe I’d get tacos. Taco Bell was just down the street, and it became a thing. I knew if he did show up, maybe that’s what I’d get. Chicken chalupa combo. It wasn’t a bonding ritual. It was something to cling to. A pattern. Something that felt a little bit like care, even if everything else felt cold or inconsistent

Do you think that’s why tacos stuck with you for so long? Like they became something more than just a meal?

It sounds so silly out loud, but it was one of the only things that felt consistent. Even now, people gift me taco blankets, taco slippers, taco plushies. It became part of my identity because it symbolized a rare moment of familiarity in a world that was always shifting underneath me. So yeah, tacos are a joy for me. But that joy was carved out of misery. It’s something I claimed. Something that’s mine.

Let’s jump back to crochet. I know that was your first love.

It was. I started because I couldn’t find clothes that fit me right. Everything was made for small bodies. I had a bigger chest, and it felt like I didn’t exist in the design world. So I made my own stuff. It became a business. A passion. A way to express myself.

Do you still love it?

I do. But I was burning out. Making custom orders back to back. Doing the same patterns over and over. It started to feel like I wasn’t creating anymore, I was just producing. That was hard. Because I thought I fell out of love with crochet. But really, I was just exhausted. Now I want to pivot. I’m working on tutorials, DIY kits, a line of designs people can make themselves. I want to make space for my ideas to breathe. I want to feel joy again when I pick up my hook.

If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be?

I’d tell her she’s gorgeous. That she’s smart, kind, important. That she’s going to hold herself up one day even when no one else does. And that she’s gonna have a cat named Salem. And she’s going to be loved.

What’s your personal philosophy?

A quote from The Alchemist: “When you want something, the universe conspires to help you achieve it.” And I really believe that. Also: “Happiness is temporary, but joy is everlasting.” That one stuck with me for years.

What would you change about how the world sees women creators, especially Black women?

I’d want people to see us as full humans. Not just bodies or trends or aesthetics. There’s brilliance behind this beauty. We are the blueprint. Always have been. And we deserve the same grace and pedestal anyone else gets.