Not a day goes by that I don't learn of people being persecuted, harassed, brutalised, solely for who they are. Headlines from today mirror headlines from decades ago all too similarly. Violence. Racism. Sexism. Homophobia. Transphobia. Xenophobia. Classism. Too many more. We are blamed for the adverse conditions we face daily, by the people who created these conditions. It is exhausting to experience fear of expressing the things I want to express because of the danger this may put me in; because someone has decided that I am inferior to them, and that my pain, my anger, my fear is not real. That my hope of living fearlessly is foolish.

Why is it that people refuse to hold themselves accountable for their prejudice until their prejudice causes harm to others? Demanding change feels akin to talking to a brick wall, and taking action feels like climbing a brick wall that is being built taller and taller and taller by those in power each time you near the top. The government doesn’t want to hear the truth and to be held accountable for the unjust systems they uphold that allow for these barriers to exist in our society. Those who act like they are “for change” and refuse to listen when they are caught in their ignorance don’t want to hear the truth, because the truth is easy to ignore when it does not impact you every day.

In “censored,” I highlight a theme of the overwhelming stress that comes with existing as a person with marginalised identities; what it feels like to have so much to say, but to experience fear of being ostracised, and defeat at the thought of my words being heard and not understood. I hope that one day in the future, we won’t have to worry about being censored, whether by others or by ourselves.

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This photo of my mom was taken in my apartment bathroom in the morning when she was getting ready for the day. Growing up, I never paid close attention to her morning routine, since it had been such a normal part of my nearly everyday living with her. Now that I've been living in my own space, I don't see my mom getting ready in the mornings. I had an impulse to capture this moment. Looking at her, I feel calm and subtle beauty, but not in a vain way. This photo feels like my mom.