A Conversation with Carmen Evelyn G. Nuyda

Jun 30

Carmen Evelyn G. Nuyda is an accomplished author, self-taught dressmaker and researcher dedicated to illuminating the life and legacy of Elizabeth Keckley, the visionary designer, activist, and author who freed herself from slavery and built a place in history through talent and determination.

With over a decade of immersive research, Carmen brings Keckley’s story to life in her debut novel, Lizzy: The Elizabeth Keckley Story, a rich tribute that blends historical depth with creative storytelling.

We are extremely honored to feature Carmen and her work, which so powerfully speaks to the importance of honoring our ancestors and keeping their stories alive for future generations.

Read Lizzy: The Elizabeth Keckley Story to discover this remarkable legacy, and learn more about the woman behind the work in our conversation below.

1. To start, can you share a bit about your background and how your personal journey led you to storytelling and fashion history?

I’ve always been drawn to stories that live beneath the surface; especially those of women whose creativity and strength defy the constraints of their time. As someone who taught myself to sew, I found liberation in fashion, as both an art form and a way to narrate identity. Over the years, that passion deepened into a study of how women, particularly women of color, have used clothing as a language of resistance, dignity, and self-expression.

Fifteen years ago, while running my bridal atelier, a bride walked in and requested a gown inspired by the Civil War era. At first, I was taken aback and declined. But something tugged at me, and I asked her for a few days to reconsider. In that space of hesitation, I began researching and that’s when I came across a violet velvet gown worn by First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln. It stopped me in my tracks. Unlike the ornate, overly embellished gowns typical of the period, this one was refined, almost minimalist. Yet it exuded quiet power. With its piped white detailing, mother-of-pearl buttons, lace trim, and a jacket that transformed into an off-the-shoulder silhouette, it felt like the power suit of its time.

Then I discovered the woman who had designed and sewn it: Elizabeth Keckley, born into slavery in 1818, who had become the First Lady’s modiste, confidante, and a figure of immense historical depth. From that moment on, I became devoted to learning more about her life, her craftsmanship, her struggles, and her triumphs.

Lizzy became a spiritual presence in my life, especially when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, just as my design career was reaching its peak. I had to close my shop, letting go of years of hard work and vision. In that grief, I found refuge in her story. She reminded me that even when the form changes, the purpose remains and endures. I began to believe that perhaps my love for fashion would find another way to manifest.

Then came the pandemic. With the world slowed down, I found myself in my living room, surrounded by years of research, books, printed articles, photographs, interviews with historians and fashion scholars, and handwritten notes. I sat down to organize it all, intending only to make sense of it for myself. But the project grew. What began as a private pursuit evolved into a novel. And now, I have the honor of sharing it with the world.

Storytelling, for me, has become an act of devotion. Much like dressmaking, it is a practice that is deeply personal, reflective, and restorative. I’m endlessly grateful to Lizzy, not only for the life she lived, but for the story she left behind in her own words. Her memoir opened the door for me to reimagine and honor a woman whose life was a tapestry of artistry, resilience, and historical brilliance.

2. What first drew you to Elizabeth Keckley’s story, and why did you feel it was important to share her life through your debut novel?

Lizzy’s name first appeared to me like a whisper- familiar yet distant. When I discovered she was not only the dressmaker to society’s elite and was officially appointed by Mary Todd Lincoln to be her couturiere, she was also a mother, an author, an entrepreneur, a professor, a thought leader, a philanthropist, and an activist. Knowing this gave me an immense sense of awe. Here was a woman who, after enduring the horrors of bondage, created beauty with her own hands and stood at the center of history. Yet I discovered that her story remained largely footnoted. I knew I had to bring her to life in a fuller, more human way, through fiction that honored her truth and allowed her voice to breathe beyond the margins.

3. You spent over a decade researching Keckley’s life, and your novel is now being adapted for the stage, congratulations! What has that journey been like, and what are your hopes or expectations for seeing your work come to life in this new format?

Thank you so much! It’s been both humbling and exhilarating. The research was often a solitary, spiritual pursuit. I only had myself to rely on. There were moments where I felt I was becoming too invested and obsessed. It was as if I could go on all day and not quit researching and learning about her.

And now, with other creatives breathe life into Elizabeth’s world, is a kind of alchemy. It feels as if the stage will invite a different kind of intimacy. My hope is that the audience feels her presence, that they see her not as a relic, or a hero, but as a woman who dared to dream and create in a world that tried to erase her. And I hope Black women in particular feel seen, because Lizzy’s story lives in every one of them.

4. What was your approach to researching Elizabeth’s life, especially the lesser-known or overlooked parts? Were there any discoveries that particularly moved or surprised you?

Much of the work was archival- reading her autobiography, cross-referencing with letters, census data, historical fashion records, studying the Civil War, the life of the Lincoln family, and even walking the streets she once walked, tracing her steps, finding myself asking the question, “How did she do it?”

But what moved me most was the emotional labor she endured- grieving the loss of her only son who fought in the Civil war as a Union soldier, while sewing her way through political and personal upheaval. The threat she felt for their lives on a daily basis. The ways by which she found the guts to survive. I was also surprised by how polarizing she became after publishing her memoir. She was punished for telling the truth, and that tension between loyalty and liberation continues to resonate.

5. As someone who developed your sewing skills independently, how has your experience shaped your perspective on Elizabeth Keckley’s legacy and influenced your storytelling?

I know all too well about the quiet power of sewing- the way a needle becomes a compass and a thread a lifeline. Sewing taught me patience, vision, discipline, and how to listen with my hands. It taught me to shapeshift into the soul of the woman I was making a dress for. In Lizzy’s legacy, I saw not just skill but intention. She used her hands to create space for herself and for others.

That embodied knowledge helped me write her not as an idea or symbol, but as a woman with deep traumas, hands that labored, and a heart so fierce it followed only one trajectory: forward, and with unwavering accuracy and purpose.

6. What creative challenges or unexpected moments did you encounter while writing about Keckley’s story?

A deep dive question and I appreciate that. One of the challenges was walking the line between historical fidelity and narrative freedom. I wanted to honor the truth of Elizabeth Keckley’s life without being shackled by the limitations of the archive. It was especially important to me to portray the trauma she endured (enslavement, physical abuse, sexual violence, and loss), without reducing her to those experiences. I didn’t want her story to be solely about pain. I wanted to preserve the fullness of her humanity, her ambition, her artistry, her wit, her self-determination.

An unexpected and deeply emotional moment came when I traveled to Hillsborough, North Carolina, the town where she was enslaved. I had the opportunity to deliver a reading of my novel inside the very home where she had once been held in bondage. To stand in that space- on the same ground where she once suffered- and speak her name with love and reverence was overwhelming. The act of reading aloud her story, in her former place of captivity, became an act of spiritual reckoning and release. I wept. The air felt heavy with memory, but also alive with a sense of restoration.

What moved me just as much was how the people of Hillsborough embraced her legacy. The Mayor, Jenn Weaver, Hillsborough’s Commissioner, Kathleen Ferguson, the Burwell Museum’s staff, the local newspaper’s writer, Dale Edwards, and all of Hillsborough’s lovely citizens honored her not as a distant historical figure but as a daughter of their town, someone whose life continues to matter. The reverence they held for her, and the way they welcomed me and my work, reminded me that healing can happen across generations, across centuries. It affirmed why I was called to write this book, not just to resurrect a forgotten figure, but to actively and consciously participate in the restoration of her dignity.

7. Your work plays an important role in preserving and honoring Black fashion history. What do you hope young readers, especially Black teens, take away from Keckley’s story and your book?

I want them to know that their ancestors were not only survivors but innovators of not just style but of resiliency. I want them to recognize that they were creators who revolutionized the world through their craft and practice. That fashion isn’t frivolous, but that it is cultural memory stitched into their hearts. I hope they see Lizzy as proof that their imagination, ideas, and artistry matter. That they too, can shape history not just by enduring, but by designing, crafting, writing, and building on their own terms. I want them to know that Lizzy left them a great inheritance and that they are the beneficiaries of a priceless and rich legacy that no one can ever take away from them. It is theirs forever.

8. How do you see storytelling, particularly through historical fiction, as a way to reclaim and celebrate Black contributions to fashion and culture?

Historical fiction lets us time-travel with purpose. It fills in the gaps that history left behind, especially when it comes to the lives and stories that were deliberately hidden or erased. Through narrative, we can unearth what was lost, restore agency to those who were marginalized, and celebrate the enduring legacy of makers and visionaries like Lizzy. Storytelling becomes a form of justice, a reckoning with the past that restores the legacies of those whose lives shaped beauty, culture, and history, even when history tried to forget them.

As a woman of color, a Filipina mother raising two young Black Filipina American daughters, this work feels deeply personal. It’s a commitment to honoring the multifaceted histories that shape us and to passing down stories that empower future generations to see themselves reflected in the rich tapestry of culture and creativity. Through historical fiction, we reclaim and celebrate Black contributions to fashion and culture not as footnotes, but as foundational narratives essential to our shared human story.

9. What advice would you give to students interested in writing, researching, or creatively sharing overlooked histories?

Follow your obsession. Stay disciplined in your truth. If something won’t let you go, that’s the story you’re meant to tell. Be rigorous in your research, but remain tender in your imagination. And don’t wait for permission. The stories are waiting for you to bring them into the light. Be kind to yourself. And when things fall apart, begin again. There is no deadline to this thing. What is important is the truth.

10. Are there other historical figures or stories you hope to explore in the future?

Wow, yes!!! I’m drawn to the lives of women who stood quietly at the edge of great moments- artists, poets, musicians, the Harlem Renaissance. Stories of people whose labor made liberation possible but who are so often left out of the spotlight. I’m especially interested in stories that live at the intersection of music, art, and healing, where artistry becomes a form of survival.

Right now, I’m researching the love story of Frederick Douglass and his wife of 44 years, Anna Murray. She was a free Black woman who helped orchestrate his escape from slavery, funded his early freedom with her own earnings, and held down their home as he became a national figure. Hers is a story of radical, often invisible devotion. I'm captivated by what it means to love someone into their greatness while your own light remains dimmed by history.

There’s a chorus of stories still waiting to be heard. And I feel called to give voice to their grace, their struggle, and their quiet brilliance. It’s pure magic!

**11. What has been one of the most meaningful responses you’ve received from readers of Lizzy, The Elizabeth Keckley Story so far?**

A Black woman in her twenties told me, “I didn’t know anything about her up until today, but I see myself in her.” That’s the gift- the bridging of time. A young reader said it made her want to learn to sew and write her own story. Another gentleman said that coming to the book reading made him realize how deeply connected he feels to Lizzy’s story. That’s everything I could have hoped for.

12. If Elizabeth Keckley could see the fashion world today, what do you think she might say or hope to see more of?

This is a question that could take me days to expand on. LOL! However, I believe Elizabeth Keckley would want fashion to be recognized for what it truly is: a declaration of personhood, a political act, and a form of liberation. For her, sewing was never simply a craft, it was about how she carved out a life of dignity and autonomy, how she transformed fabric into power, and power into liberation.

I think she’d be proud to see the ways Black designers today continue to wield that same transformative energy, using fashion to assert presence, rewrite narratives, and archive Black life in all its beauty and complexity.

She’d recognize herself in the legacy of Anne Lowe, whose exquisite gowns dressed the most influential figures of her time, including the creation of Jacqueline Kennedy’s iconic wedding gown. Lowe created with unmatched elegance and resilience despite working in relative obscurity. She’d see the resonance of Zelda Wynn Valdes, who created the Playboy bunny suit, and designed for Josephine Baker, Eartha Kitt, Dorothy Dandridge, and the Black elite with unmatched grace. In Willi Smith, whose revolutionary streetwear brought style and democracy together in one cohesive place. In Patrick Kelly, who infused the Parisian fashion world with Southern Black joy and cultural audacity. In Dapper Dan, who turned logos into armor for Black survival and pride in Harlem that revolutionized American hip hop culture and far beyond. In Ruby Bailey, a multi-disciplinary genius of the Harlem Renaissance who turned garments into masterful canvases.

She would be proud of Jay Jaxon who was the first Black designer to lead a Parisian couture house as the creative director of the House of Jean-Louis Scherrer at just 24 years old, debuting his first haute couture collection as head designer in 1970, and whose story is only now receiving its due. She’d also see Arthur McGee, the first African American designer to open a boutique on Seventh Avenue, whose visionary work paved the way for generations. And in Ophelia DeVore, a pioneering model, entrepreneur, and founder of one of the first Black modeling agencies, who helped redefine beauty standards and opened doors for Black talent in fashion.

She’d remember Angela Dean, whose contributions as a trailblazing Black designer continues to enrich fashion’s landscape today. And B. Michael, whose innovative designs and influence helped shape contemporary Black fashion narratives.

She’d applaud TJ Walker and Carl Jones of Cross Colours, whose 1990s designs gave voice to social change and youth culture with unapologetic messaging. She’d celebrate the groundbreaking work of Telfar Clemens, whose conscious designs and accessible luxury continue to challenge industry norms and champion inclusivity. Keckley was sewing liberation into every seam, and that echoes in what Virgil Abloh did with Off-White, with Louis Vuitton bringing Black innovation into the global aesthetic conversation. And she’d surely honor the vision and legacy of the great André Leon Talley, who brought a thunderous, unapologetically Black intellect and glamour to the often exclusive world of high fashion. His presence alone rewrote the rules of who gets to be an authority on style.

She would celebrate the brilliance of contemporary costume designers like Paul Tazewell and Ruth E. Carter, who have redefined the visual language of Black history and Afrofuturism through their work on stage and screen. And she’d recognize the significant contributions of Francine Jamison-Tanchuck, whose acclaimed work on films such as The Color Purple uplifts stories of Black excellence with grace, historical precision, and reverence.

She would see in Stephen Burrows a revolutionary spirit, whose designs lit up the Battle of Versailles and redefined American fashion on a global scale. Willi Smith, who made streetwear poetic and accessible; Kevan Hall, who brings elegance and precision to the red carpet with deep roots in cultural narrative. She’d honor the continued influence of Tracy Reese, known for her elegant, timeless designs and advocacy for sustainability and inclusion in fashion. And she’d applaud Aurora James, whose innovative leadership with initiatives like the 15 Percent Pledge is reshaping industry accountability and championing Black-owned brands.

She’d see today’s designers Christopher John Rogers, LaQuan Smith, and so many others I haven’t even begun to include here, as the list would be sprawling- not just as artists but as archivists and cultural historians.

Lizzy would say that all these designers aren’t merely creating garments; they are telling stories, building intergenerational memory, and affirming that Black style has always been foundational- never peripheral to American fashion.

And even with all this progress, I think Lizzy would ask creatives to keep going. She’d remind us that visibility must be matched with infrastructure, that beauty must be backed by justice. She’d challenge us to ask: Who gets to be remembered? Who still isn’t named? Who’s profiting off of creativity while denying equity? And why?

Fashion, in Lizzy’s legacy, is storytelling, testimony, and survival. It’s not just what we wear, but what we’ve lived through. And she would insist that the hands who stitch the fabric of this industry be remembered, recognized and respected as the inventors of originality, the agents of innovation and the authors of beauty itself.

13. What legacy do you hope your work will leave for future generations, both in literature and in the preservation of Black fashion history?

I hope my work opens a door. That someone, years from now, will read Lizzy and feel called to tell their own version of truth. I want to leave behind a tapestry woven with care, resistance, and love that affirms each and every story, belongs in every archive, on every stage, and in every heart. That after reading and closing the book, they are inspired to take the first step towards opening the door with no key, because the key is their heart where the truth lives.

Want to learn more about Elizabeth Keckley?

Check out these resources:

Follow Carmen Evelyn G. Nuyda on Instagram and keep an eye out for announcements about the theatrical adaptation coming in 2026.

A note to our student readers:

If you’re curious to learn more about Black fashion history, consider exploring local libraries, archives, or museums in your area. You might be surprised by the incredible histories waiting to be uncovered right in your own community.

Briana Burton