In Practice: Maryah Greene’s Work Is Still About Care

The through line from plants to partnerships? Knowing what needs protection.

Maryah and I kept getting introduced by friends who saw something similar playing out. We were both at a point where the businesses we had built: the ones we had put our names, faces, and reputations on… were starting to feel too small for what came next. Different industries, different kinds of growth, but the same tension underneath: whether success, when you really looked at it, was enough of a reason to stay.

Neither of us made the decision lightly. When you build something from scratch, you get used to being scrappy, self-sufficient, and responsible for every win and every shortfall. Walking away from it isn’t a failure. It’s a confrontation. It forces you to ask whether ownership itself is the goal, or whether there’s a different kind of freedom in stepping into something bigger than what you can build alone.

Maryah had already moved across spaces by then: education, plant styling, content creation, brand partnerships. In all of it, the throughline wasn’t aesthetics or personal brand. It was care. It was knowing when something needed tending and when it needed to be let go.

Leaving the front-facing side of her work wasn’t about giving anything up. It was about getting closer to where decisions actually get made. Today, Maryah sits on the other side of the deals she used to negotiate alone. She isn’t just advocating for creators. She’s rebuilding the terms under which creators and brands meet.

Her story isn’t about reinvention or rebranding. It’s about learning when momentum stops being enough. It’s about having the clarity to move, not when it’s easy, or obvious, or celebrated—but when it’s necessary.

1. What’s the real story of how you got here? (Read: not the LinkedIn version)

I’ll start by saying it involved a lot of coffee and naps *sips $8 latte*.

I came to NYC to be an elementary school teacher. And while I felt so fulfilled in the classroom, there was this persistent entrepreneurial itch I just couldn’t ignore. Caring for plants started as a hobby—just a way to stay mindful when I wasn’t buried in lesson plans or grad school homework. It wasn’t until I fully pivoted into running a plant design business and becoming a content creator that I realized…I had kind of built something without even trying. It felt like the perfect mix of right place, right time—and a whole lot of people believing in me before I truly believed in myself.

That chapter of being a business owner and content creator was incredibly fulfilling. But around two years ago, I started feeling the itch again. I didn’t know where it was leading me or even why it was happening—but deep down, I knew I was outgrowing the space I had created for myself.

Honestly? I was craving structure. Consistency. And, in all transparency, a challenge. My work wasn’t pushing my brain or creativity in the same way anymore. But there was one thing I knew for sure: I loved the feeling of getting a contract signed.

Brand partnerships during the “NYC Plant Doctor” part of my career were some of the most energizing parts of my work. I felt like such a boss anytime I negotiated higher rates or pushed back on contract terms that didn’t sit right with me. In the early days though? I was signing contracts without fully understanding what I was agreeing to. The broke college student in me was just like, “F*ck it.”

But once I started seeing my branded content pop up on TV, in ads, even on airplanes—I had a moment like, “Wait…am I actually getting paid enough for this?” That’s when I learned that terms like length of use, organic vs. paid, exclusivity—all of that—are totally negotiable. I realized that I was working harder for these brands than I actually was for myself.

It took some research, a lot of trial and error, and yes, getting f*cked over by brands more than once, to light a fire in me. And while i realize none of this is personal, I did feel like it was on me to do the due diligence of understanding what im signing if im not going to pay a manager to do it anymore. I realized I didn’t want to be the face of the brand anymore—I wanted to be behind the scenes, doing the negotiating, building the partnerships, and making sure talent was being paid what they were worth.

So…I made the move to an agency.

2. What’s something that quietly rewired how you work?

I don’t want this to come off like a sob story—because it’s not. But it was a pivotal moment that completely rewired how I work and how I show up in brand partnerships as both a creator and marketing agency girly.

Over a year ago, I landed what felt like a dream campaign. I was one of the main faces of a major spring launch. When they reached out—and had a BIG GIRL budget—I was in heaven. I had the photoshoot, wore all the clothes (got to keep some too!), and the campaign was everywhere. The products even sold out, which honestly blew me away.

About a month after the campaign wrapped, I was anxiously waiting to get paid. At this time in my life, i was living from partnership to partnership. That real freelance creator life, ya know.

I followed up for an update on payment a few days before the due date, and the brand rep asked if we could hop on a call. Now, if you’re in the influencer/content creator world, you know that is never a good sign.

We got on the call—and that’s when I was told that the brand was filing for bankruptcy. And because of that, despite being one of the campaign’s main faces and helping to sell out product, I wouldn’t be paid. The person breaking the news was doing their best to sound empathetic, but they were also throwing out legal jargon left and right. Bottom line: no clear answers, just a lot of “we’ll see” and “we can’t say.”

As a micro-influencer who depended on that money to pay my actual bills, it felt like a gut punch. And what made it worse? The person reading the script to me was so financially removed from the reality of what they were saying that I knew they’d never understand what it means to suddenly have to figure out how you’re going to pay rent.

That was the moment I decided I would never, ever live by the phrase “it’s just business, not personal.” Because in today’s world—where people are their brands and creators put their hearts into their work—there’s no such thing as “just business.”

Since then, I’ve committed to bringing a higher level of care, transparency, and empathy into every partnership I touch—whether I’m facilitating it, negotiating it, or closing it. In an industry that’s still so volatile and lacking real protections, I want to be the person on the other side of the email or the Zoom call who reminds influencers and creators that they’re talking to a human being—not just the voice of a brand who needs to sell product. A partnership is exactly that. It should contain mutual respect for both parties involved. And an extra level of care should be applied to a human who is providing a service, especially when it involves their likeness. Simply put, I want to change how people see doing business.

3. What’s a piece of media you’ve rewatched or reread an embarrassing number of times?

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Holy crap. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve read that book.

If I tried to explain it right now, I honestly wouldn’t do it justice. But in a sad attempt to: it’s a reminder to be present—and to take absolutely nothing personally. Simple, but life-changing.

When my brain needs a hug, I listen to Perfect Ten by Roddy Ricch ft. Nipsey Hussle. The sound bites from Nipsey do wonders for my soul. He talks so openly about the emotions he experienced throughout his journey—and there’s something about the clarity and focus in his mindset that instantly calms my spirit. I probably listen to it once a month, like clockwork. It just centers me.

4. What’s an opinion or trend in the industry that makes you roll your eyes?

Anything with “era” slapped on the end of it? Good lordt. Can we just… take ourselves a little less seriously for a second?

In a world where people have basically become their own brands, we’ve somehow adopted this mindset that everything we do is a direct reflection of that brand. We’ve taken trends, moods, interests, and personal growth and shoved them into neatly packaged “eras.” I mean—even taking a shower and wearing neutrals has been labeled the “clean girl era.” We cannot be serious.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for feeling good, looking good, and believing in yourself. But this idea that your life has to be lived in curated, aesthetic chapters? It gives me the ick. It puts a weird pressure on us to constantly define what we’re doing and who we are.

Sometimes, you just want to try something new without it being an “era.” Sometimes, you evolve slowly. Or chaotically. Or without making an Instagram carousel about it.

We deserve to have range—and to grow on our own timeline, no label required.

5. What’s a moment in your career that you felt totally in control? What about the opposite?

LOL, I’ve never felt that. Literally never, babes.

I have moments where I feel like I’m at my most confident—and others where I genuinely forget how to speak. For me, confidence is about being just delusional enough to start believing you’re that girl. And trust me, I don’t feel that every day… but when I do, I’m truly unstoppable. You’re so lucky you got this interview on a confident day because it would sound a whole lot different if i was still in bed with my bonnet on.

Now that I’m in this new space—corporate marketing, brand strategy, boardrooms—I often feel wildly insecure, underqualified, and like a full-blown fraud. And then, there are days when I walk in knowing I’m the only one who can break down the difference between paid social and organic… and no one can tell me sh*t.

I know that over time my confidence will level out and become more consistent. But in the meantime, I try to give myself the grace of remembering:
There was a first time I potted a plant for someone and was nervous AF.
A first time I stood in front of 30 kids and taught a lesson.
A first time I hit “post” on Instagram.
A first time I went live on international news.

And guess what? No one died. LOL.

6. What’s in your media diet right now that’s actually influencing your work?

TBH, I’ve really been trying to limit how much media I consume. I’ve found that too much of it actually suppresses my creativity. I get way more inspired by my own experiences and real-life interactions than by constantly absorbing other people’s content. I know I’ve been online too much when I catch myself with a TikTok trend looping in my head. Cue: “I LIKE MY SUITCASE.”

That said, I’m also 100% that person who’ll scroll their FYP for an hour straight and not even realize it. I will literally watch anything. And when I say anything, I mean anything. Luckily, my job at Droga5 as an influencer manager sometimes requires me to be on top of trends and creative ideas—so I justify my scrolling by telling myself, “I’m working.”

Outside of that, I’m also a reader…when I have the time. I’m the type who will make a book her entire personality, get a quarter of the way through, and then forget to finish it. But when I do finish a book? It’s magic. Two recent reads I actually made it through and cried at the end, were The Midnight Library by Matt Haig and Oye by Melissa Mogollon (HI MEL!)

I also regularly visit the picture book section in book stores. The stories are so simple. They reconnect me to my inner child and raw creativity. The next time you find yourself searching for meaning, a sign or inspiration, pick up a picture book (I call them picture books rather than childrens books for a reason. They’re meant for adults too).

7. What’s a shift in tone, taste, or language that you think is coming—but hasn’t hit yet?

Call me a liar if you want, but I sooooo saw the abandonment of mega influencers coming. In fact, I’ve been saying for a while now: everyday people are the new influencers.

The space has gotten ridiculously oversaturated—with over-advertising, over-influencing, and a whole lot of people who, let’s be honest, came from money or had a serious leg up in life. The lifestyle they promote has become unattainable, over-curated, and frankly, exhausting. So it’s no surprise to me that brands are starting to lean into everyday people and micro influencers. The ones who feel real.

Lately, the people blowing up online are the ones clocking into their 9–5s, not flying private or doing GRWM videos from a hotel in Mykonos. I don’t need to know what Alix Earle is wearing today. I want to know what brand of bread my cat’s bodega is choosing to nap on today. Now that’s content.

One of my favorite recent campaigns was from Lacoste. They partnered with a NYC taxi driver—this fly-ass man in a crisp green polo—and built a whole campaign around him. It felt real. It felt human. And it felt so good knowing that man got a CHECK. I’ve never worn Lacoste a day in my life, but best believe they can take my money now.

8. What’s something you wanted early in your career that doesn’t matter to you anymore?

I used to scream from the rooftops: “I’d rather make $1 owning my business than $20 working for someone else.” LOL. Looking back, I think that mindset was a direct reaction to my previous career in teaching. I was literally doing the Lord’s work as an assistant teacher while in grad school… for minimum wage. Like—WHAT???

Now that I’ve transitioned into the corporate world, my thinking has shifted. My job is just that—a job. It’s not my entire identity, and it’s definitely not tied to my worth. I didn’t even know that was possible until I experienced it.

And while I’m still very much freelance, I love having the flexibility to do what I want when I need to, and the peace of mind that comes from a steady paycheck and knowing what’s coming in every month.

Being the face of my work or my brand? That no longer feels important to me. Honestly, I can’t think of anything worse. Every time I was the front-facing person for a campaign or event and got underpaid, didn’t perform how I hoped, or got lowballed—it felt like a punch in the face. It was too personal. I couldn’t separate my own worth from what I was being paid.

But I don’t feel that way anymore. And I don’t want to feel that way anymore.

And bonus thoughts…

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say something about remembering to put the ladder back down.

There are so many people I’ve met along the way who I would not be here without. I’m not going to list names because this interview would become longer than the bible:, but it feels important to say this: every time you level up—whether it's a new space, job, or opportunity—remember to drop the ladder back down for someone else.

For every job rejection I’ve received, I’ve made a promise to recommend that many people when I finally get in the room and land the role. Too often, those rooms are filled with people who are underqualified but overconnected.

Create space for the folks who didn’t take the traditional path—who may not have a four-year degree, but who show up with raw, natural talent and unmatched creativity.

And no, I’m not saying to recommend someone just because they’re your friend. I’m saying recommend them because they’re your friend and they’ve got the strongest resume in the stack.

Look for talent in unexpected places. Get off LinkedIn. Go for a walk. Your sister’s baby’s cousin’s nephew might be more qualified than the CEO’s kid. Oops—did I say that part out loud?

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I hope you enjoyed meeting Maryah. Catch up with her on LinkedIn and Instagram, or grab her book!