Simone de Beauvoir said it.
Audrey Hepburn graced us.
Tarsila do Amaral portrayed Brazil’s true colors.
Deborah Harry hypnotized me.
Patti Smith redefined what it means to be an artist.
Cindy Sherman showed me the way.
Many Madonnas later, and here we are, still fighting for our spot in the sun. We conquered, accomplished and thrived. We transformed the world around us and began a revolution within ourselves.
Our role is incredibly honorable because we own the capacity of being both wise and nurturing. Independent and inspiring.
We rise above while still licking wounds, healing ourselves and each other. We effortlessly understand the concept of being a tribe because life has always demanded it of us.
I think of my great grandmother. Still alive, lucid and warm. I spent many of my days in her arms, patiently teaching me how to play cards. She told me stories of her childhood in Brazil, living slowly. There were no deadlines, no rush, no multitasking. A kind of simplicity that seems foreign. I think of her strength. Carrying on day by day, feeding her children, on physical and emotional levels. I think of her life experiences, the people she encountered, the places she walked through. Her demons. Who were they? How did she manage to scare them away for 90 years straight? I feel a piercing rush of inspiration running through me, moving me forward.
Today is our day.
No pink or blue. We are all shades in one.
Today and everyday is our day. Celebrate yourself, love someone, find a flower.
Thank you Polly Nor for not only inspiring me, but for forcing me to contemplate my own demons and how I can allow them to comfort me instead of haunting me. Thank you for shedding light on our unhealthy relationships with the internet, the long time suppressed female lust and ultimately, providing comfort and power to us. Today, I salute you and your astonishing work.
The Devil Wears Nada
Too Good For You
Long Days and Short Nights