Fall 2024

The House Where We Live

In the last year I have learned lots about resistance. Being a woman in the world I constantly feel pressure to be complicit and quiet. There are many people who wholeheartedly believe that is how all women should behave. However, that is not the world I live in. Women are loud. Women are leaders. Women are independent. Women deserve to have the right to their bodily autonomy. The House Where We Live depicts what a home, my home, really looks like. There are dishes in the sink, clutter left on counters, but it is a space where I feel safe and there is joy. So. Much. Joy. In the days ahead I hold on to that more than anything as the world around me feels like it is disintegrating right before my eyes. 

Resistance is existing in a world that does not want you to exist as you are. Existence is resistance.

To me, resistance is simply existing in a world that doesn’t want you to exist as you are. It’s living authentically when the world tells you that you’re not allowed to. Just being here, showing up as myself, and claiming my space is a form of resistance. I don’t have to shout or make grand gestures to be defiant. Just existing, in all my messiness, complexity, and strength, is a radical act.

And that’s what I hold onto now: my existence is resistance. It’s not about fitting into someone else’s idea of what I should be. It’s about embracing who I am, being unapologetically me, and celebrating the joy that comes from living authentically. That is my act of defiance. That is my resistance.