Blog

Today, Sesame Flyers announced that they are stepping away from the Labor Day Parade. What we know as New York Carnival has changed drastically over the years, and, to be frank, I understand their decision.

I’m beginning to learn that peace isn’t the reward for finding your purpose, but sometimes it’s the first sign that you’re finally walking toward it.

What my work and inner world have taught me about taste is that it’s cultivated. You discover your places, people, and things through experience—trial and error, refining as you go.

The older I get, the less interested I am in being impressive...because for most of my life, being impressive felt like the plot.

It makes you question what is actually being heard and what your presence is really for. Whether you are valued in a space or simply useful to it, and whether you’ve been too willing to accept one as the other. I’m at a point in my career where I cannot pretend to not see that difference. It’s clarifying to realize that there are spaces that are comfortable in their own perspective.

Community cannot exist without a willingness to be a little disrupted. Not in a way that asks you to disappear into someone else’s needs, but in the way that growing alongside another person requires.

Permission means to exist in ways that are not immediately validated. We have the right to change our minds and grow beyond the versions of ourselves that others are and are not used to. Becoming your true self is not an easy process. It often means moving away from the expectations that once made you feel safe and those of others around you.

This Black History Month, I am choosing softness as affirmation. It is a declaration to myself that we deserve ease alongside excellence, rest with responsibility, and care without condition. We are worthy beyond our usefulness.

The internet makes it feel like everything you share has to be definitive. Like every post should sound like you know exactly what you’re doing and what you’re talking about, and that being unsure is something to hide. But that’s never truly resonated with me or been how creativity works for me. Most of the things I’ve made that mattered came from moments of curiosity and experimentation; when I was playful and willing to share something that felt a little unfinished. So this year, I’m letting myself “post through the cringe.”