We’re looking forward to introducing you to Precious Addison. Check out our conversation below.
Good morning Precious, it’s such a great way to kick off the day – I think our readers will love hearing your stories, experiences and about how you think about life and work. Let’s jump right in? What do you think is misunderstood about your business?
I think one of the biggest misunderstandings about my Vulgarbabe is that it’s just about dance or being sexy. People see the heels, the choreography, the visuals… and while that’s definitely a big part of it, they miss the deeper intention behind it all. What I really do is help people reclaim parts of themselves they thought were lost. Confidence. Sensuality. Expression. Especially for women who’ve been silenced, shamed, or overlooked, this space becomes a form of therapy. It’s about healing, community, and empowerment through movement. The dance is just the doorway… we go way deeper than that.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Precious Addison—creative director, dancer, choreographer, videographer, and founder of Vulgarbabe University and Thee Velvet Box. I’ve been dancing since I was five, and over the years, dance became more than just movement—it became my voice, my healing, and my power. My brand is all about helping others—especially women—rediscover their sensuality, confidence, and inner strength through movement, expression, and storytelling.
At Vulgarbabe University, I train dancers of all backgrounds in heels, performance, and emotional expression. But it’s deeper than choreography—it’s about creating a safe space for transformation, bonding, and bold self-love. Through Thee Velvet Box, I produce high-quality dance visuals that are cinematic, sultry, and unforgettable—because our stories deserve to be seen in full color and full drama.
Right now, I’m working on expanding my brand into a custom heels dance shoe line, launching exclusive behind-the-scenes content, and developing a production space that centers creativity and confidence. Everything I create is rooted in freedom, feeling, and femme power. I’m not here to fit in—I’m here to remind people what it feels like to take up space unapologetically.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What relationship most shaped how you see yourself?
The relationship that most shaped how I see myself is the one I have with my kids and my niece. They changed everything for me. It’s one thing to want to be great for yourself . But, oh! It’s another thing to know these eyes are watching you, learning from you, and feeling safe because of you. Being their example made me look at myself differently. It made me step into my power in a deeper way.
They’ve seen me at my lowest and still think I’m the coolest person in the world. They’ve seen me push through when I wanted to give up, and that made me realize I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for. Their presence in my life forces me to be honest, intentional, and soft all at once. They’ve shown me what unconditional love really feels like. And they hold up a mirror I can’t hide from.
Because of them, I learned that healing wasn’t just for me, it was so I didn’t pass down the same pain I carried. I want them to see me chasing my dreams, standing up for myself, and living in my truth so they never feel like they have to shrink in this world.
They’ve taught me that I’m more than a provider, more than a protector. I’m a blueprint. A safe space. A full human being. And every day, they remind me why becoming me was always worth it.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me how to survive betrayal and still keep my mind and heart open. I’ve been cheated on by people I never slept with … friends, collaborators, folks I called family. Betrayal… It shows up in broken trust, in fake love, in loyalty that only goes one way. And nothing teaches you discernment like realizing someone was only close enough to hurt you.
Success is loud. It’s claps, it’s cameras, it’s people suddenly remembering your name. But suffering? Suffering is quiet. It’s the days you don’t show up ‘cause your spirit is cracked. It’s crying in silence after smiling in public. And that’s what shaped me.
It taught me boundaries. It taught me how to protect my energy and stop giving VIP access to people who were only meant to be in the nosebleeds. Most importantly, it taught me how to rebuild myself, not into the old me, but into someone softer, wiser, and way less available to the bullshit.
That kind of clarity doesn’t come from winning. It comes from surviving.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? Is the public version of you the real you?
The public version of me is very real, but she’s the “limited edition” version of me, if you will… She’s the strong one, the polished one, the confident one people see leading a class, directing a shoot, or speaking on a mic. That version is definitely me, but it’s not all of me. It’s the version I’ve built through years of having to be strong, through heartbreak, betrayal, disappointment… and still getting up anyway.
What most people don’t see is how deeply I feel. I’m goofy as hell, I talk to myself out loud in the mirror to hype myself up, I send chaotic voice notes to my friends, and I dance around the house like I’m in a music video. I overthink everything, but I’m also quick to laugh. I notice when someone’s energy is off before they ever say a word. I’m protective, once you’re in my circle, I ride for you. But getting in? That takes time, because I’ve been let down too many times to hand out access for free.
I genuinely want the people around me to thrive. I love seeing others win. Like, real joy! No jealousy, no competition. I want everyone I love to feel powerful, successful, and whole. I’ll go out of my way to encourage you, hype you, push you, even when I’m tired, because that’s just who I am. But I’ve also learned the hard way that not everyone gives that same energy back. And that lesson? That’s what made me protect the softer, private parts of me.
So is the public me real? Absolutely. But it’s the version I allow the world to see! The strong, intentional, poured together. The rest? The tender, silly, healing, hyper-protective, wildly loving part of me? That version exists too. But she’s reserved for the ones who truly earn it. Not hidden or fake…. just sacred.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope the story people tell about me isn’t just about what I did, but how I made them feel. I want to be remembered as the woman who made people feel seen, powerful, and safe in their own bodies. Someone who wasn’t afraid to tell her truth, even when it was messy, and who created space for others to heal through movement, art, laughter, and love.
I want people to say, ‘She was real. She was bold. She never changed who she was just to be accepted.’ That I was someone who walked with integrity even when it hurt. Someone who loved hard and didn’t just want success for herself, but made it her mission to bring everyone around her with her. I want people to say I pushed them to grow. That I believed in their greatness before they saw it themselves. That I showed up for them, shoots…. sometimes even when I was struggling to show up for myself.
And yeah, I want people to laugh when they talk about me too. To say I was goofy, dramatic, did the most, made everything a little extra. That I cracked jokes when things got heavy and found a way to make people smile through their pain. That I wasn’t perfect, but I was present, and I cared.
I hope they say I left things better than I found them. That I turned pain into purpose, helped people reclaim their power, and that I never let fear stop me from showing up as myself.
Because that’s what matters. Not just being remembered… but being felt.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://Vulgarbabe.com
- Instagram: @theevulgarbabe @theevulgarbabes @@theevelvetbox
- Youtube: https://Youtube.com/theevulgarbabe
Image Credits
Mariah Mendoza
Marcus Carter
Liz Avery
