My desire to photograph women and show them the magic and power their body holds came from my own hurt & heartbrokenness. Even as a young girl I believed I was going to hell any time I’d lock my bedroom door and roll my shorts up out of curiosity, or made a revealing top out of a scarf. I was stuck in this limbo of loving my body but feeling chastened for proclaiming it. Not to mention, you’re a temptress if you’re allowing boys to see skin, they clearly are weak and have no will-power so it is the girl’s job to present herself as a clean, Godly woman, right? So I suppressed my Self, I shamed my own self-exploration. I did my best to stay in line, I made myself smaller, and I numbed.
What I had yet to learn (thanks to Postpartum Depression and disassociation) was that the very sexuality and sensuality I experienced in my body was a gift; that every breath, every goosebump, and every expression of myself through my senses was my dance with the Universe. It is what keeps me tied to hope, to love, and the present moment.