I’d rather be broken than sit in a bubble and watch the world pass me by. I’d rather get hurt than never know how it feels to touch the hands of a person who loves me. I’d rather fail then never try to build a foundation with someone, or start a project, or believe in a dream.
I’m taking your hand and walking by your side. I’m acknowledging that this road ahead is one that I have no control over, and I’m accepting that for what it is—an adventure, our adventure.
You’re totally fine, and then it hits. The pain. The agony. The sobbing into your best friend’s blouse at 3AM, surrounded by pizza crust and empty beer bottles.
Someone’s perception of you is not your identity.
It us up to us, as women, to learn the power of our voices, the strength of our skin, the value of coming together in protest—maybe not in silence, but, simply in solidarity—affirming that our presence matters. Our presence deserves to be heard.
Because just like the seasons, we fall, we grow, we tumble, we change, we begin again.
“i bleed
every month.
but
do not die.
how am i
not
magic. — Nayyirah Waheed
Fresh, spunky, earth-friendly, clean, and fun, KAABOO (20 miles north of San Diego) might just give Coachella a run for its money.
What has happened to you does not, and will never define you.
Holding yourself back.