Robert Washington shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Hi Robert, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What do you think others are secretly struggling with—but never say?
Honestly? I think most people are silently struggling to feel seen — not for what they do, but for who they are. We live in a world that praises productivity and performance, but it rarely holds space for presence or pain.
A lot of folks smile while drowning. And they say, “It’s not that deep,” but that’s usually code for “I don’t feel safe enough to say what’s really going on.”
I know that feeling. I’ve been the strong one, the go-getter, the “you always got it together” person — while wrestling with fear, loss, and loneliness behind closed doors. That’s why I create. That’s why I lead. Because somebody’s gotta be real enough to say: “Hey, I see you. All of you. And you don’t have to hide here.”
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I go by many names, depending on the room I’m in — Bobbie D’Boss when I’m creating music, Rob The Photographer when I’m behind the lens, and Robert the PM when I’m leading strategy in the boardroom. But at the core, I’m a storyteller and a builder.
I’m the founder of BossImageStudios, where I capture and direct visuals that make people feel something. I’m also a music artist, blending soulful vocals and raw lyrics to reflect the truth in my experiences with relationships, ambition, heartbreak, and healing. And when I’m not doing either, I’m coaching others toward financial freedom or leading implementation projects that drive real impact.
What makes me unique is that I don’t just wear many hats — I wear them well. I don’t separate the artist from the executive, or the visionary from the strategist. I believe real impact comes from integration, not compartmentalization.
Right now, I’m working on a follow-up to my debut EP, “A New Perspective,” launching my financial services team for my brokerage, and scaling my photography brand with new education resources for creators.
The truth is, everything I do stems from the same place — purpose. From the music to the camera to the meetings, I’m telling stories, building legacy, and proving that even when it looks like “it’s not that deep”… it absolutely is.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
I’m releasing the part of me that prided himself on being cool with everybody.
I used to be a yes-man — letting things slide, staying quiet when I should’ve spoken up, avoiding conflict to “keep the peace.” But over time, I realized that wasn’t peace — it was me shrinking to make others comfortable. That version of me was built for survival, not self-respect.
And I get it — I thought if I stayed likable, I’d be safe. But the truth is, I was enabling behavior I never deserved. That mindset served its purpose… but I outgrew it.
Now? I speak up. I stand firm. I move with clarity. I don’t need to be cool with everybody — I need to be aligned with who I really am.
And I’m still a work in progress. Growth doesn’t stop just because the world claps for what they see. This process has shown me more gain than loss — because what I’m gaining is myself.
So when I say “It’s not that deep,” I’m not brushing it off — I’m owning it. I’ve done the inner work. I’ve set the tone. And at this point in my life, peace without self-respect isn’t peace at all.
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I started using my pain as power on April 8, 2024 — ironically, the day of the solar eclipse. It felt like an awakening.
I remember waking up angry. Mad at everybody… and honestly, mad at myself. I was carrying a lot — years of holding things in, saying “I’m good” when I wasn’t. That day, something cracked open. I told Alexa to play music, and two songs came on back-to-back that hit me hard. It took me straight back to my childhood — remembering how I used to dream about making my own music but never gave myself permission to try.
Moments later, I stepped outside and watched the eclipse unfold. And I just stood there, still. I prayed. Asked God to heal my heart and guide my steps. And when I went back inside, I picked up my phone, opened my notes… and started writing.
Words came effortlessly. A few days later, I recorded my very first single, FIRST 48. That was the moment music became therapy for me — a release, a mirror, and a voice all at once.
Since then, writing and recording has helped me process every layer of myself — the pain, the hope, the parts I didn’t even have language for before. It gave me back my power. Not because I had it all figured out, but because I finally had an outlet to be real.
And now? That little boy who used to daydream about recording music finally has a mic in his hand… and he’s not hiding anymore.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
One truth that’s become a quiet compass in my life is this: peace isn’t the absence of conflict — it’s the presence of alignment.
For a long time, I tried to be the one who kept the peace by staying silent, letting things slide, and making sure everyone around me felt comfortable. But over time, I realized I wasn’t protecting peace — I was avoiding discomfort, even at the cost of my own voice.
Now, I’m learning that it’s okay to speak up and still be kind. It’s okay to set boundaries and still lead with love. These are things I may not say often, but they shape how I show up — in my relationships, in my work, in my art.
I’m still growing, still unlearning, still choosing myself in small ways every day. And through it all, I remind myself that being grounded in truth — even quietly — is one of the most powerful things I can be.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
People might assume I was always calm, always unbothered — like nothing ever got to me. But that wasn’t strength, that was survival. I’ve had to master the art of keeping it together while carrying things I never spoke on. What may get misunderstood is how much depth was behind the silence.
The truth is, I’ve always been layered. There were storms I stood in without flinching — not because they didn’t affect me, but because I didn’t always feel safe enough to speak on them. That’s why my art, my music, and my presence hold so much weight now. Every word, every image, every move is rooted in something real.
I’m not building a legacy on perfection — I’m building it on emotional honesty, evolution, and the freedom to be all of who I am. That includes the healed version, the hurt version, and the version that’s still figuring it all out. Legacy, for me, isn’t what I leave behind — it’s how I live right now, intentionally.
So when I say “It’s not that deep,” it’s layered. Sometimes it’s me protecting my peace. Sometimes it’s me challenging the surface-level assumptions people make. And sometimes? It’s me holding space for the depth I’ve already processed.
Because no matter how I’m labeled, how I’m remembered, or how I’m misunderstood — one thing is certain:
It might not be that deep… but I am.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/BossImageStudios
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BossImageStudios
- Other: https://linktr.ee/RobbDaBoss
Image Credits
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