Dola Posh, a Nigerian-British photographer, recounts how motherhood triggered her struggle with postnatal depression. After the birth of her daughter, she felt an overwhelming loss of identity, exacerbated by isolation during the COVID lockdown. Sharing her journey through self-portrait photography allowed her to confront her feelings and advocate for better representation of black mothers in media. Awarded a grant to continue her project, Dola aims to shatter the stigma surrounding mental health issues faced by mothers, especially in the black community.
Exploring Identity Through Lens: A Mother's Battle with Postnatal Depression
Exploring Identity Through Lens: A Mother's Battle with Postnatal Depression
Dola Posh shares her journey navigating motherhood and identity loss after childbirth amidst a pandemic.
In the quiet aftermath of giving birth, Dola Posh found herself grappling with an unfamiliar and troubling silence. Known for her vibrant career in photography, she felt her identity slip away after welcoming her daughter into the world. Amidst the COVID lockdown of 2020, just days after her daughter’s birth, Dola lay in an English hospital bed, overwhelmed by profound changes in her life.
Relatives from Nigeria—her home—filled her phone with check-in calls, which only heightened her anxiety. Memories of Lagos, where her career flourished, collided with the stark reality of her new role as a mother. “I thought: ‘I’m me; the baby’s out, I’m still me.’ But no, I wasn’t me any more,” she reflected, revealing the inner turmoil that would spiral into postnatal depression.
The societal pressures around motherhood added to her distress. Dola faced a barrage of unsolicited parenting advice, which made her feel unqualified in her new role. “It made me feel like I didn’t know what I was doing,” she shared, emphasizing the emotional toll it took amidst an already challenging transition. Months of sleepless nights culminated in a dark moment one night when a dangerous thought crossed her mind.
Feeling lost and emotionally adrift, a moment of despair struck. Clinging to a blanket and her baby daughter Monioluwa—whose name means "I have God"—Dola sought comfort through familiar songs from her Nigerian childhood. Driven by desperation, she reached out to a health visitor who helped her navigate these heavy feelings. Therapy became a guiding light, steering her back to her passion for photography.
Throughout her artistic journey in Lagos, Dola had carved a niche in fashion photography, an industry often dominated by men. Yet, she found deeper meaning in portraiture, allowing her to tell stories beyond the surface. As she began photographing herself and Monioluwa, Dola unwittingly echoed the traditional representations of Madonna and child, a motif rooted in her upbringing.
Her childhood household was steeped in visual representations of motherhood. Growing up with biblical imagery and the comforting glow of warm colors became an unconscious model for her photographs. As she draped herself in a veil—a remnant of her religious upbringing—Dola felt a reconnection to her roots and a growing sense of self.
Through sharing her experiences, Dola opened avenues for conversation about postnatal depression, especially among black mothers, who are disproportionately affected. Winning a prestigious grant from camera manufacturer Leica earlier this year would allow her project to continue, helping more women find their voice.
“I want a world where black mothers don’t have to carry so much burden,” Dola expressed, highlighting the communal aspect of healing. Her mission transcends her personal struggles; it's about creating a supportive community that reflects the realities of being a mother.
“I'm still an artist, I’m still a woman, and I have something to say,” she affirmed, challenging societal stigmas around mental health. By capturing her journey, Dola hopes to inspire countless others to acknowledge their battles and reclaim their identities in the realm of motherhood.
Relatives from Nigeria—her home—filled her phone with check-in calls, which only heightened her anxiety. Memories of Lagos, where her career flourished, collided with the stark reality of her new role as a mother. “I thought: ‘I’m me; the baby’s out, I’m still me.’ But no, I wasn’t me any more,” she reflected, revealing the inner turmoil that would spiral into postnatal depression.
The societal pressures around motherhood added to her distress. Dola faced a barrage of unsolicited parenting advice, which made her feel unqualified in her new role. “It made me feel like I didn’t know what I was doing,” she shared, emphasizing the emotional toll it took amidst an already challenging transition. Months of sleepless nights culminated in a dark moment one night when a dangerous thought crossed her mind.
Feeling lost and emotionally adrift, a moment of despair struck. Clinging to a blanket and her baby daughter Monioluwa—whose name means "I have God"—Dola sought comfort through familiar songs from her Nigerian childhood. Driven by desperation, she reached out to a health visitor who helped her navigate these heavy feelings. Therapy became a guiding light, steering her back to her passion for photography.
Throughout her artistic journey in Lagos, Dola had carved a niche in fashion photography, an industry often dominated by men. Yet, she found deeper meaning in portraiture, allowing her to tell stories beyond the surface. As she began photographing herself and Monioluwa, Dola unwittingly echoed the traditional representations of Madonna and child, a motif rooted in her upbringing.
Her childhood household was steeped in visual representations of motherhood. Growing up with biblical imagery and the comforting glow of warm colors became an unconscious model for her photographs. As she draped herself in a veil—a remnant of her religious upbringing—Dola felt a reconnection to her roots and a growing sense of self.
Through sharing her experiences, Dola opened avenues for conversation about postnatal depression, especially among black mothers, who are disproportionately affected. Winning a prestigious grant from camera manufacturer Leica earlier this year would allow her project to continue, helping more women find their voice.
“I want a world where black mothers don’t have to carry so much burden,” Dola expressed, highlighting the communal aspect of healing. Her mission transcends her personal struggles; it's about creating a supportive community that reflects the realities of being a mother.
“I'm still an artist, I’m still a woman, and I have something to say,” she affirmed, challenging societal stigmas around mental health. By capturing her journey, Dola hopes to inspire countless others to acknowledge their battles and reclaim their identities in the realm of motherhood.
