[I chose this scar because] this one [reminds] me of being more comfortable in who I am. [When] I was nine or ten, I had a whole bunch of Barbie and Hello Kitty water tattoos. This girl in my grade came up to me and was like, "Why did you do this? You're too black. You're too dark to have those colors on your skin." And it tore me up. I went home and I literally scraped that shit off my skin [with] a Brillo pad. It hurt me so much. It wasn't coming off.  That's a very permanent scar. It just never went away. There was a point I would never wear pink, blue, black and orange all at the same time. I would just feel like everyone's looking at me. I'm used to being hyper criticized in all areas of my life. 

I grew up in a very predominantly Caucasian education system. It took a lot for me to really identify with myself. When I was four or five, I used to draw myself as white with blonde hair, and then I was black with blonde hair [or] I'm black, but I got straight hair and my features weren't accurate. 

Seventh or eighth grade is the first time I remember doing a doodle in my notebook and cognizantly being really proud of myself [and my features]. I kind of fell into [confidence] by accident. I was going through a lot of bad stuff in middle school, [and] I was just like, "You know what, I don't care what anyone thinks. I'm just going to do whatever I want anyway."  

There was one moment with one of my friends in middle school- I don't like to say we all "knew," but the way he spoke to us as his friends, we knew he was a queer man.  He had always been himself, unapologetically himself. [One day, I walked in on] that friend in our class, crying. This girl had told him that he's going to hell and everyone's going to get saved but the f words and him. I didn't touch her or anything. I leaned over her desk and [said], "I dare you to never say that, because you wouldn't have never even said that if I was in the room." People knew me like that. 

I think we would have a lot more beauty in the world with two things: apprehension and thoughtfulness.  Because I can only imagine how he was feeling in that moment. I wish more people [were like,] “I'm going to be more apprehensive and watch my actions, thoughts and words and how [that] affects everyone.” The same girl [who bullied my friend] grew up to be with girls in high school. How much different could it have been if [she had] been like, "Hey, I'm kind of conflicted about myself?" It makes me wonder [about] the effect of everything, me [standing up] to her, really making her [understand], "I'm neglecting his authenticity and my own." 

He was so comfortable in himself and he was so strong. He was out with himself, because he was honest and didn't care-not like, "oh, I don't care" [but rather], "I'm authentic." If he was able to do that, I felt so compelled to stand up for him and be extremely loud at that moment, despite the type of school I went to. And that's when I was like, "I know who I am and my ideals and what I want to stand for." 

And [now] I know I like to help people. I got into health care purely by accident. I had to go to a government facility to live, [and] Clinical Certified Medical Assistant was the option that I chose. I was already working as a PTA in a private practice when I was 17. That experience, those CCMA classes, were really great. Those jobs [and] internships were awesome and I met a lot of great people.  I really grew an appreciation for it.  Right now, I work in mental health in patient care coordination and clinical support for a psychiatric health service.

Everyone's like, "Oh, you know, your career, you can go back to school, you could become a doctor!" I don't want to do that; I really want to do art full time. I like origami, [I made] a koi pond in a shadow box with resin and fake moss - little origami lotus flowers on ponds. I made a sculpture [out of] these shoes that look like monsters. And I do a little bit of tattooing, I do some piercings, I've done most of my own and I've done a few people's. [My art] makes me feel accomplished and creative. Sometimes I doubt myself, and then I’ll finish and I’ll be like “Oh, see it was just fine.” I never really showed anyone my work because I just like looking at it and [thinking], "Wow, I'm talented." It's for myself. [Like] I love to look good, my full face is done, and I'm going absolutely nowhere.

[I’m practicing] celebrating being seen. I have a hard time doing that; I need to work on it. So it just feels really, really nice to be getting more comfortable [in] myself. I'm going to get my eyelashes done and [long] auburn faux locks for my birthday. My birthday is one of those days I really care about what I look like and my presentation. I'm getting more to a point of freedom and stability. I've lived in many different lifestyles. I've lived around more people who were like me, who were closer to our culture and who we were. And that really helped me accept myself. 

A very validating experience [was] I reconnected with a cousin of mine recently. We're the same age and we had been out of communication because of family drama, and we had ended up getting hurt by the same person in our family. And neither of us knew. I was telling her how I'm so tired and about [what] had happened to me in the past year and a half or so. She was really there for me. She was really understanding [that] I’m not a bad person. And she believed me. 

If anything else, at least I have my music. These [headphones] are on my head all the time.  I listen to a lot of lyricists [because] I'm spiritual and the people who you connect yourself with matters. I want to be able to be connected with people of substance who mean what they say.

There’s this one song, Keeping it 100 by Joyner Lucas. [It tells] the story of this $100 bill. The video itself is from [the perspective of] one single hundred dollar bill. It's all a connected story - this person robbed the store and he felt bad, so one of the hundred dollar [bill]s he got from the robbery he put on a collection plate. The pastor of that church was involving himself with sex workers and [paid her]--

Transaction complete, and she went back to the streets

Back to the cash at the leash, she back to get back on her knees

And she don't like how this shit make her feel

But you gotta do what you gotta do when it's time for paying bills

For real, she wanna retire soon, she swear to God (*smack noise*)

She looked up and seen the hand of God, oh my God...

Forgot she had a pimp

That n**** been looking for her ass for days

Took every single dollar and left her eye black and gray 

It's kind of dark, it's just that repeated cycle. Bad things happen to people. [I want people to understand that] it’s not a simple decision. Each of those encounters are possible life or death situations. You don't know that anxiety, that fear, that pain. You have to think about everything, not reject the reality of your situation and learn how to live and thrive through it. And [this song] made me feel, even though it's [about] a made up person, that I'm not alone. My story isn't even uncommon.

You just always have to think of the future. Because your current decisions will affect the future. You just have to know -this is what I have to do because I know I'm unhappy now. So what can I do to be happy later?

[One day,] I'll be in my own apartment, blasting music. I'll probably go outside, smoke and feed ducks. And go home and sleep looking at the sunset. I'm always doing weird stuff, like cooking big meals at random times of the day, spaghetti and meatballs at 5 a.m. That's peace for me. I get to read, hang out with my friends. I work from home. Once I have my apartment, I'm settled. Some of my coworkers have been working from DR. What am I here for? (laughs) You know, like I could go anywhere. I could do anything.