I’ve inherited many beautiful things from my Ancestors. Most of all, I love the way we love through food and action and touch—always moving our hands to share what we have to say.

This shoot isn’t about that.
It’s about what it means to find grace amidst the weight of intergenerational trauma.
There were horrific and violent things passed forward to me. Things so dark I dare not speak them outside of therapy. They are haunting and disgusting—and that is where I came from.

There is nothing I’m more proud of than how I stand in my life today—not because of, not in spite of, but along with all that has happened to me.

I move slowly, tenderly opening myself to the world around me.
And still, I am tired.

I can be fierce, ferocious, and feral.
And still, I am tired.

This grace isn’t something I’ve fought for.
My arrival here has come from my devotion to grief.
And still, there’s a weight I will always carry while I call this skin home.
There is a weight I can never let go of.
But even in my fatigue, I’ll wear it like an accessory.