The Power of Black Tears: Kris Sims ’16

The Power of Black Tears: Kris Sims ’16

The Power of Black Tears: Kris Sims ’16

A black alumni channels his pain into a new form of protest art.

By Derek Herscovici ’14

Man looking into the distance with painted tears rolling down his face

Kris Sims didn’t wake up that day looking to take a stand. In fact, in the beginning he really wasn’t trying to get involved. But when the death of Ahmaud Arbery, an unarmed black man, became a flashpoint in the ongoing unrest over police violence in black communities, Sims felt compelled to act.

The photographer and videographer’s ongoing “Black Tears” portrait series is his symbolic—and literal—response to police brutality in 2020.

“[Ahmaud Arbery] was my age,” said Sims of the Brunswick, Ga. man who was murdered while jogging. “That could have been me. Then, almost right after, there was Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd set everything off.”

Inspired by the campus candlelight vigils he photographed while working for the Auburn Plainsman, he incorporated black wax to symbolize the tears shed by the black community. When he began pouring the hot (but harmless) wax beneath his eyes, the art project took on a new meaning. “I just feel like a superhero—it’s not my mask, but that vulnerability, just having it out for everyone to see, makes me feel powerful, because I’m not known for being too vulnerable in the past. These times call for us to just lay it up there.”

For someone so reticent to express their own emotions, Sims has no problem drawing it out of others.

After graduating from Auburn, he got an internship working for Coca-Cola in Atlanta and has remained with them ever since. He now works as a photographer and videographer for internal events, conferences and campus events, capturing behind-the-scenes moments for Coke’s corporate marketing operations, social media and more.

“I really like to look for just smiles and moments of excitement,” Sims said of his photographic subjects. “I’m not afraid to go up to people and ask them, ‘Hey, do you mind if I take your picture next to this big Coke bottle?’ I like to get group happiness. If 20 people are smiling in a photo, it makes me happy.”

One day, Sims wants work on Coke commercials, and is building up a portfolio of video projects to bolster his resume. In March 2020, he finished a four-year-long project with Electric Machine Media for WalMart starring former Auburn football player Derek Brown called “Raising A Giant”. Sims got to know Brown’s family well, visiting his childhood home and traveling with his family to a game in Tuscaloosa. Though he began on the project as an assistant, Sims earned their trust to progress as a behind-the-scenes photographer and, later, as an important part of the team.

He’s also helped produce a commercial for Lake Lanier Campgrounds and a speaker series at the Herndon House in Atlanta, where the leader of United Way interviewed community leaders.

two women and a man putting together care packages
One of the corporate events for Coca-Cola that Simms photographs

“I do have quite a few mentors who I just look up to, and they look out for me, which is always good to have. I just learned that you just got to be decisive and confident. Learning from the work that I’m doing, learning from every gig I got.” To Sims, imagery is nothing without symbolism. If he takes a thousand photos, only a hundred are useable. Of those, maybe only one captures the emotion of the moment, conveying the meaning he wants.

Symbolism was at the heart of the first “Black Tears” photos, which began as an art project. Particularly after his grandfather’s funeral, the normally reticent Sims understood the impact that tears can have.

“I kind of realized, most times I cried in the past, someone that’s close to me has died. I’m not just crying at every movie, It’s meaningful. I was losing it so bad [at the funeral], but afterwards, people came up to me and said that was powerful. ‘I wanted to cry when I saw you doing that.’ It impacted people to see me crying for my grandpa.”

The “Black Tears” images grew out of that emotion and allowed Sims to make a stand not only in public but online.

Sims had never experimented with the concept at a protest, but at a rally outside the Georgia capital, inspired by the group of speakers, he felt compelled to get up and speak. When he removed his mask, the ‘black tears’ quickly captivated the crowd’s attention.

“I go up there with my mask on, of course. No one can hear me. I don’t know what I was saying, but no one could hear me, so it didn’t matter. Everyone was like, ‘Take off your mask,’ and I kind of forgot I had the black tears on. I take off the mask, and I can see everyone’s eyes just look super surprised. If it’s going to shock people, maybe they’ll remember it.”

It wasn’t long before others were encouraged to adopt the “Black Tears” metaphor. At another protest, when someone was unsure of wearing the wax, he explained “it represents the cries on the streets. These tears represent cries of the oppressed.”  Even the application process — waiting for the wax and flame to cool — is symbolic. Though Sims readily professes to never being an ‘activist’ before, he can still recall the moment he saw, in person, President Obama hugging Civil Rights icon John Lewis in Selma, Ala. on the Edmund Pettis Bridge in 2015. It makes him contemplate his own role in this new Civil Rights movement.

“Compared to the days of Martin Luther King, our struggle hasn’t been quite as intense as that, but now it feels like it’s coming to that. As a black guy, not taking a public stance, or just going silent, it’s like, you know what? I’m not going to be that guy. I’m not going to be the guy who sits back and watches what happens. I’m just going to try to be involved. If I can make it a certain distance and hand it off to anyone, I would be okay with that. I just want to have some type of impact towards equality and having justice for everyone.”

Black lives matter protest
Angela Morton ’09

Angela Morton ’09

Within my business I provide nutrition counseling to patients that have chronic kidney disease.

Angela Morton ’09

Angela Morton ’09

Within my business I provide nutrition counseling to patients that have chronic kidney disease.

Oh Baby!

Oh Baby!

Oh Baby!

Courtney ’04 and Eric ’04 Waldrop wanted a fourth child, but got six more—and a TV show.

By Kate Asbury Larkin ’21

Parents with 10 children

BEFORE TRAVELING TO ALBERTVILLE to meet the Waldrop family, I spent weeks studying each of the faces of their nine children. I watched and re-watched The Learning Channel’s (TLC) “Sweet Home, Sextuplets,” a show that has followed the family since before the six babies were born. I took notes about every little thing that might help me distinguish one baby from another. Rivers has big brown eyes and long hair; Rawlings has blue eyes and curly hair and Rayne is the smallest, most petite of the girls. Tag has dark hair and dark eyes; Blu has blonde hair and green eyes and Layke has blonde hair with blue eyes. I had it. I was ready.

I arrived at the house and walked into pandemonium. There were toddlers everywhere. Courtney was in the kitchen trying to wrangle the girls to put matching orange bows in their hair. One of the toddler boys was climbing on the kitchen table, at least three were running through the house, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even keep up with whether the one who just ran by me was the same one who ran by seconds earlier. It didn’t take long to realize that all my preparation was worthless.

Waldrop children playing with each other and toys

It was constant motion and a lot of noise, yet Courtney and Eric were calm and cool; none of it seemed to faze them. It was almost like they didn’t even hear—or see—the chaos. They made it look easy. Really easy. The three older boys interacted seamlessly with their younger brothers and sisters. They didn’t have to be asked to help, they just did it. If a baby was crying, an older brother scooped them up.

A typical day—if there is such a thing at the Waldrops’— begins around 9 a.m. and goes full speed until well into the afternoon. “The babies take about a one-hour nap in the afternoon,” Courtney said. “The little boys are full speed when they are awake, running, climbing on literally everything. The girls are chatterboxes: they think bedtime is a spend-the-night party.

“There really are no words to describe our lives.”

They would talk all night if we let them.” Once the babies are asleep at night, the Waldrop household enjoys around 10 hours of peace and quiet—and then it starts over again the next day.

Courtney and Eric started dating in the eighth grade, graduated from Albertville High School and both attended and graduated from Auburn in 2004. Courtney earned a degree in early childhood education and Eric earned a horticulture degree. Eric co-owns the Robinson & Waldrop Landscape Group. The family lives on 40 acres, which includes 20 acres of cattle

The couple wanted a fourth child to complete their family, but after suffering the heartbreak of a miscarriage, Courtney took a low-dose fertility drug marketed to reduce the chance of multiple births, sextuplets being a one in 5 million chance. At her first appointment, her ultrasound indicated there were six (placental) sacs. A week later, before the couple could even comprehend six babies, the ultrasound showed eight. Courtney and Eric were terrified.

“That was the shock of our lives,” Courtney said. “We were distraught. We were worried and scared. We were anything but happy at that point.” At the next appointment, six heartbeats were detected (the other two sacs were empty). Their doctor in Huntsville, Ala. discussed the risks involved, not only for the babies, but for Courtney. He talked about the likelihood the babies would be delivered early and would face health challenges. It was a lot to take in and it was hard to let go of their fear and anxiety. So they turned to their Faith and found peace with their decision to keep all six babies. From then on, it was all excitement as the family prepared for the plan God had for their lives.

Just three months into her pregnancy, Courtney had to give up her 13-year career as a first-grade teacher. By 26 weeks, she was on complete bedrest. On December 11, 2017, at 30 weeks, a team of 40 medical professionals at the Huntsville Hospital for Women and Children delivered—in this order—Rayne, Blu, Rawlings, Layke, Rivers and Tag. Now, Courtney (with the help of family and friends) prepares 33 meals every day, tackles 15 loads of laundry weekly and juggles schedules—and life—with a television crew following the family’s every move.

“There really are no words to describe our lives,” Courtney said. “We are so thankful to be raising our nine children, but it is definitely exhausting. Our three older boys are always on the go with sports and other activities and then there are six 2-yearolds to care for, not to mention the challenge of taking them anywhere. Eric and I just pray we survive it, but we also know one day, we’ll miss it.”

Children sitting on couch with Aubie
Children standing next to some windows
baby reading book to Aubie
The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.

The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.

Pat Dye: Auburn Man

Pat Dye: Auburn Man

Pat Dye: Auburn Man

Auburn sports legend Bo Jackson remembers Pat Dye.

By David Housel ’69

Coach Dye sacrificed his family to turn a bunch of young boys into responsible men, not just good football players. He spent more time with his players than he did with his own family, and what I came to realize later in my life was that the time he spent with his players really cost him in the end. But, just look at the lives he changed: thousands of lives. And not just the lives of his players, but the lives of the families of players, too. That’s why I say, besides my mother, he was the most influential person in my life. He gave me something I never had, which was a father figure. He became my daddy, my mentor

When I was playing at Auburn (and even in the pros), I would have a great game and I would go to the locker room at the end of the game and when I was finished talking to reporters, I would just sit and envy all my teammates who would be sitting around having conversations with their dads. One of the things I cherish the most is that, after all the media had left the locker room, Coach Dye would always come over and sit down and talk to me. So, my relationship with him is deeper for me. It’s almost like I stole him as a father figure from his kids and forced my way into their family, and they accepted me. I told Coach Dye’s grandkids I’m their Uncle Bo. They are my adopted family. Coach Dye and I often fished together on his farm and we could just talk for hours, like a father and son would do. One day, when he was still married to Sue, he told me the three most important things in her life were “them kids, Bo Jackson and her damn dogs.” Coach Dye will always mean the world to me and I treasure all the time I had with him.”

 

Preaching What You Practiced

Preaching What You Practiced

Coming back “home” has a new meaning in Auburn athletics these days. Eleven former Auburn players are back on the Plains as coaches (and many others who are in noncoaching roles).

Preaching What You Practiced

Preaching What You Practiced

Coming back “home” has a new meaning in Auburn athletics these days. Eleven former Auburn players are back on the Plains as coaches (and many others who are in noncoaching roles).

In Search of Evolution: Justin Havird ’14

In Search of Evolution: Justin Havird ’14

In Search of Evolution: Justin Havird ’14

Exploring how a volcano changes the environment—and the animals inside it.

By Derek Herscovici ’14

Shrimp in a circle formation
Variation in red coloration in the anchialine shrimp Halocaridina rubra; each shrimp represents a different genetic lineage

From overhead, you would think you were looking at the surface of the moon. Craggy, rock-strewn and pockmarked with craters, it’s inconceivable to think life could survive, let alone thrive out here.

Yet one alumnus not only found life here, but life found nowhere else in the world.

In November 2019 Justin Havird ’14, an assistant professor in the Department of Integrative Biology at the University of Texas at Austin, was exploring a part of Hawaii with a team of researchers that was recently formed by the eruption of the Kilauea volcano in 2018. The cooled magma from the volcano had created acres of new coastline — a rare type of habitat ideal for their work.

Called anchialine habitats, these ecosystems are pools, ponds and caves that are coastal — meaning they’re close to the sea — but without any surface connection to the ocean. Instead, porous volcanic rock creates underground connections between both salt and fresh water and the surface. Found in only a handful of places around the world, Hawaii has the largest concentration of anchialine habitats thanks to its high volcanic activity.

Havird and his team were ostensibly out collecting a species of small red shrimp commonly found in these habitats in order to establish a research colony at the University of Texas. His team included Ryan Weaver ’18, an alumnus currently working as an NSF postdoctoral fellow with Havird. After collecting on Oahu and Maui, they were finishing up on the big island at a site they had gone to many times before.

Just south of Hilo, a black-sand beach contains an anchialine pool that used to be an excellent collection site, but since the volcanic eruption, the shrimp have disappeared. A lot else has also changed, said Havird.

“It was really remarkable, because the pond we usually sampled was spitting distance from the ocean, but when we went there this time, that same pond is a football field’s length away from the ocean.” Amidst the black rubble sand, they noticed new ponds that had formed close to the coastline. They found the shrimp in these new ponds, but, more excitingly, they also found a thin, microbial mat growing around its rim.

The discovery of these alien-like growths, and the effect they have on the shrimp who graze on them, was what drove Havird to apply for and receive a grant from the National Science Foundation.

“Some ponds have really thick, almost fluorescent orange mats made up of algae and bacteria; those communities are found nowhere else in the world, and we were the first to characterize what microbes are there using molecular techniques. I thought it was a great opportunity to study how these communities come into being and how they change over time, which is a process called ‘ecological succession.’”

Part of Havird’s grant money will be used to determine where the shrimp in the new ponds come from. Across the Hawaiian Islands, the shrimp is described as a single species, but they’re actually incredibly genetically diverse. Havird believes they could be classified as seven or eight different cryptic species.

“It’s unclear whether the shrimp in these new habitats are from the same lineage that used to be in the old habitat right next door, or if they’ve colonized these new habitats from somewhere else.”

Havird is building on the research first established at Auburn University 15 years ago by professor Scott Santos, Havird’s onetime Ph.D. advisor and now collaborator. As a child growing up in Hawaii, Santos was intimately familiar with the shallow ponds and the shrimp who inhabited them. Later, as a scientist, he theorized that, given enough time and isolation from each other, the shrimp would begin to take on divergent characteristics.

Man standing in front of the ocean
Justin Havird ’14

“[Santos] initially collected shrimp from all these different aquifers all over the islands, then used molecular mitochondrial barcoding techniques to show that, sure enough, these shrimp are wildly different from each other, even though at the surface they look to be pretty similar. The genes betray that they’ve been diverged for really long amounts of time.”

Published on the cover of the Biological Bulletin is a picture from Havird’s work showing the color diversity of the shrimp from near-translucent to bright, blood red.

Theories about the shrimp’s genetic divergence range from “neutral evolution,” where their natural isolation brings about new traits or behaviors, to adaptation for specific temperatures and salinities, which can vary among ponds.

Another theory lies within the microbial “mat,” which has been shown to be composed of at least 1,500 microbial species. The mat is also composed of distinct layers, each having a signature-like color: orange, pink and green.

“We’re doing work to see if shrimp grazing on the microbial community changes its species composition. We’re also looking into what microbes are found in the guts of these shrimp to see exactly what they’re eating.”

Havird and his team were supposed to return to Hawaii in May, but the COVID-19 Pandemic put a stop to it. While much of their work is conducted in the field, Havird and his team have been able to work remotely by analyzing data sets they have already collected. For the time being, they are relying on collaborators still on the islands to provide samples, hoping to find the secrets to this one-of-a-kind ecosystem.

“I’d be really excited if this thin, kind of drab-looking microbial community we’re seeing in these new habitats becomes the bright-orange crust characteristic of other habitats,” said Havird. “If that happens, it’ll only be the third time this community has ever formed, and it would also show that these habitats are a lot more complex than we thought they were.

A piece of the earth's crust showing the orange, pink and green layers
A piece of the crust showing the orange, pink and green layers
The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.

The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.

Helping Harlem in Critical Hours: Karen Sodomick ’93

Helping Harlem in Critical Hours: Karen Sodomick ’93

Helping Harlem in Critical Hours: Karen Sodomick ’93

An Auburn graduate and the Harlem Children’s Zone fight for Central Harlem’s citizens during COVID-19 pandemic and civil unrest.

A headshot of Karen Sodomick

This year has presented its fair share of struggles for the world. While some have found defeat in the struggles, others have found strength. One particular group that has honed in on its available resources is Harlem Children’s Zone, a nonprofit organization spanning 97 blocks in Central Harlem, New York City. And playing a part in the organization’s success is Auburn graduate Karen Sodomick ‘93.

When Sodomick joined Harlem Children’s Zone (HCZ) a year ago, she was thrilled and humbled to partner with an organization known to educators and policymakers all over the world. In the 1990s, HCZ’s founder and former CEO, Geoffrey Canada had a grand vision. He imagined an organization that offered a breadth of services to its vulnerable citizens to break the cycle of poverty in a long-challenged community. From education, after-school programs and food delivery services to facilitated access, healthcare and more, over twenty years later HCZ is considered the pioneer of “place-based services” with a generation of proof.

Hired as HCZ’s first-ever chief communications officer, Sodomick uses her background of contributing and leading communications departments for nonprofits to build and develop a strategy that raises HCZ’s profile.

Sodomick took the lessons she learned during her time on the Plains and began the next step in her career. One class in particular that she recalls as being instrumental to her career was a public relations case study class that examined organizational crises and the role and impact of communications.

“That class taught me how critically important it is to be intentional and thoughtful in your communications,” said Sodomick. “An organization needs to anticipate issues and opportunities that may exist. A strategic, purposeful approach to communications is required — whether you’re sharing good news or bad news with stakeholders.”

But then, in March, all plans came to a halt. When New York State announced shelter-at-home quarantine requirements as a result of COVID-19, Sodomick said HCZ was immediately affected. With two charter schools in its purview, the organization had to create and implement a remote learning plan — fast. Given the community’s challenges, the HCZ team had to troubleshoot a range of issues, such as lack of WiFi and technology in students’ homes.

“We had to provide laptops, headsets and WiFi hotspots for our students to ensure they had access to remote learning,” Sodomick said, adding that some families had as many as four kids sharing one device to complete their schooling.

As one of the most vulnerable communities in the United States, food scarcity also became a significant issue. After sending out a survey to 3,300 Central Harlem residents to assess their most urgent needs, it was apparent that many were struggling to feed themselves and their families.

Each day seemed to present another pressing community need. Sodomick and her colleagues were constantly reacting and seeking creative solutions to problems, from bridging the digital divide for students to addressing food insecurity.

One effort was to assemble and distribute 4,000 food packages to HCZ families and senior citizens in the community. In an effort to provide economic relief for families, HCZ created an emergency relief fund to raise money for essential needs such as electricity, health care and income loss.

Another important operation was “Stay Covered Harlem,” a public health campaign that began as a way to distribute masks, but quickly turned into a massive push to raise awareness about the importance of wearing masks and practicing social distancing. This campaign was supported via various communication channels, including 40 kiosks in Central Harlem, and now six other cities across the United States are replicating the campaign.

two students at a book fair
Students from the Promise Academy at a book fair hosted by the TODAY Show

Sodomick said that the effects of COVID-19 on the community have been challenging, but the HCZ team knew what to do after working as crisis responders for years. The teams from across the organization worked together around the clock to take care of their students, families and community in Harlem. “Daytime blurred into nighttime,” she said.

As the community steadily found its footing amid the pandemic, the death of George Floyd reopened fresh wounds in Harlem and across the country. HCZ again sprang into action and established a “Call to Action” committee.

“It became not about what we do publicly, but what we do to support and engage our students, families and the Harlem community.” Sodomick said.

HCZ planned and oversaw a day-long program called the “Day of Action,” which acted as a call to reimagine America. Highlighting Black excellence and sharing resources about Black history, the day also provided useful safety information related to protesting peacefully amid the pandemic, and posed constructive questions for reflection.

Harlem Children’s Zone also shifted to a new CEO at the end of June; during the leadership changes and the COVID pandemic, Sodomick decided to step back and take on the role of a full-time consultant working remotely for the organization. She’s currently leading an extensive rebranding program at HCZ that builds upon their established identity, influence and reputation, creating a multi-pronged communications plan for the Stay Covered Harlem campaign and spearheading a new website that will help advance HCZ’s top priorities.

While all of this trauma seemed to hit at once, Sodomick said the takeaways have been extremely important. “It’s been incredible to see how HCZ as an organization shifts from crisis to crisis,” she said.

Taking public health to new heights: Alysa Moore ’14

Taking public health to new heights: Alysa Moore ’14

Taking public health to new heights: Alysa Moore ’14

One alumna helps bring healthy food choices to underserved communities.

By Auburn Alumni Association

Woman smiling standing in front of yellow trees

Alysa Moore ‘14 was in the midst of rigorous studies at Emory University when she learned that over 1.4 million people in Georgia are considered food insecure and receive federal nutrition assistance.

When she began volunteering at Wholesome Wave Georgia, a nonprofit organization in Atlanta that helps Georgians gain access to “fresh, wholesome and locally grown food,” her passion for the health of humanity, which first blossomed as a student in an Auburn University lab, found its niche in food access.

After graduating from Emory University in 2016 with a Master’s in Public Health, that passion for helping others got her a job with the Atlanta non-profit Captain Planet Foundation, where she managed a program that puts school gardens all over metro-Atlanta and the country.

“I was able to work with teachers to help them understand how to use the gardens as an outdoor learning laboratory in a really active way,” said the 28-year-old Atlanta resident. “It was a really cool gig.”

Practical and impactful, Moore could see the changes up close.

In Summer 2018, Moore returned to Wholesome Wave Georgia, this time as a full-time employee. In her current role, Moore works with a program called Georgia Fresh for Less that “promotes healthy and affordable eating habits” by matching SNAP/EBT dollars — dollar for dollar — at farmers markets around the state.

“It’s a dream job,” said Moore. Her work with both non-profits taught her how important the public health field is to society. “Public health is helping people at scale; if a doctor helps individuals, a public health practitioner helps entire populations [avoid having] to go to the doctor’s office. It encompasses so many different areas.”

While working for Wholesome Wave, she met her wife, bought a house in metro-Atlanta — a feat, nowadays — and built the life she knows now in the city. And her time at Auburn had a lot to do with that. “When I arrived at Auburn, I was a pretty straight-laced kid,” she said. “I was a square. I didn’t know how to cut loose, have fun, have conversations with strangers and be a part of a community. I learned how to do that at Auburn.”

She attributes the “fun lessons” to her freshman year, 2011, being a championship-winning year — a time for anyone and everyone to celebrate.

But, like for many Auburn students, her four years were also chock-full of studies and challenges. She worked in an Auburn lab studying water-borne diseases for three years and after graduation, she was ready to continue working in a lab. She thought she might want to work for the Center for Disease Control, specifically studying water-borne infectious diseases and illnesses, but life took her in another direction.

“I didn’t end up in infectious disease research like I had thought, and I landed in food access, but that’s the beauty of the field,” she said. “It’s everywhere. It’s more an approach to addressing health problems. That’s what I like about it.”

A woman teaching kids science
One of Wholesome Wave Georgia’s in-school events

Once again, she’s landing in a new space in her field. In the fall, Moore will leave Wholesome Wave Georgia and head to Maxwell Air Force Base for Public Health Officer training in Montgomery.

“It’s a new way to serve in a way I have never tried,” she said.

Public Health officers are “responsible for preventing and controlling the spread of diseases,” and assist in “caring for the health of [US] Airmen,” according to the Airforce website. Moore had considered joining the service earlier in life, but revisited the idea recently. With the support of her wife, she decided it was time.

Working for the federal government will be different than anything Moore has known before, and she expects there to be some necessary acclimation. In her non-profit work, she was able to see immediate impact from her work — she could go out and speak with the people she was working to serve, she said. The work she’s moving into with government service will have a different shape and feel to it. It won’t be completely foreign though, as her father served in the US Air Force when she was growing up.

After a few months in training, she will move to her first duty station. Moore said she’s feeling the nerves of the switch, but the excitement is there too.

“I’m preparing mentally and physically to go to officer training,” she said. “I know it’s going to be difficult, but also really fun. As much as I love the work I’ve done, I see an opportunity for me to have a huge impact working with the Air Force,” she said.

The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.

The Shot Maker

The Shot Maker

Viral video maker goes from trick shots to slow-motion masterpieces.

Living the Creed

Living the Creed

Alumni around the world live The Auburn Creed in remarkable ways. Meet three who have dedicated their lives to making an impact on others by serving the underserved and giving hope to the hopeless.