My Story

I’m an artist, an activist, a content creator, and a writer who, for the past decade, has been traveling to conflict and post-conflict areas in the hopes of raising awareness and promoting understanding of the root causes of some of humanity's toughest problems. But how did I get here?

Let’s lay the groundwork. I grew up in Sarasota, Florida, in a somewhat conservative Christian family that was deeply invested in making the world a better place. Though there were some definitely harmful ideologies within Evangelical Christianity at the time, my upbringing instilled in me an awareness about the world that so few of my peers had at the time. For that, I’m grateful. My parents ensured I understood the reality of things, of global conflicts, of poverty, and so on. They let me ask questions and dig into just about any topic that fascinated me. For as long as I can remember, the concept of war and genocide was front of mind—the Darfur crisis specifically grabbed my attention. As a child, I simply couldn’t understand why the world would allow other children to face such violence.

As I grew older, my curiosity about the world, about different cultures, religions, and practices, continued to grow. I had the privilege of traveling internationally as an adolescent, following my mom around on her various philanthropic initiatives. I knew then that the US was not where I wanted to end up, I knew I wanted to help people, and I knew I wanted to see as much of the world as possible. At 17, I moved to New York City to study Media, Culture and the Arts at The Kings College and start to make those dreams a reality.

The summer before my final year, I went to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Recently, people have asked what radicalized me and what urged me to be so outspoken. There wasn’t one “aha” moment, but this trip opened my eyes in ways I couldn’t and haven’t fully come back from. I went to help run an art therapy camp with an education-oriented organization, and I left with an understanding and conviction that what we’ve been told about these types of conflicts is only a fraction of the reality. I sat with rape survivors, I spoke with former child soldiers, and I heard firsthand accounts of some of the most gruesome violence you can imagine. In the process, I began to see more clearly what fuels these conflicts and who the bad guys really are. I learned of the international influences, even NGOs, that were profiting from and manipulating the ongoing crisis. I also learned about King Leopold II’s brutal occupation and the wounds of Belgium's atrocities still run deep.

When I came back to New York for my last semester of college, I was a mess, haunted by the stories and secondary trauma that gave me night terrors and caused me to push away most of my friends, who couldn’t understand why going back to life as usual was no longer possible for me. Thankfully, I decided to see a psychologist—I learned to let go of some of the saviorism and responsibility, for my sake and everyone else’s, and I learned to transmute these feelings of hopelessness into action. My attention shifted, and my obsession with understanding the root causes of some of humanity’s toughest problems took hold. For maybe the first time, I was truly fascinated by history. I devoured all the books on colonialism, conflicts, foreign policy, and economic policy that I could get my hands on. I wanted to understand all the mechanisms that perpetuate poverty, war, and all types of violence and harm.

Two years later, I moved to Beirut. I felt that Lebanon held some keys to understanding the world and the global powers behind armed groups. Not wanting to be stuck with anyone else’s agenda, I launched a personal media project, interviewing former combatants for a portrait and interview series called Why We Fight. This project later took me all over the world to Iraq, Turkey, Colombia, Northern Ireland, and elsewhere as I interviewed people from notorious militias and militaries and saw the common thread in all of their stories. When you take away names and places, many of the stories felt the same. Victimization, trauma, fear, and so many other things “powers” were utilized by the groups to which they once belonged to fuel recruitment and further violence. It culminated in a gallery experience in Colorado, for which I received a beautiful response.

While creating Why We Fight, I started to develop a framework that helped me better understand what perpetuated harm and how to confront it at its root. Throughout my travels, I not only interviewed former combatants but also met with activists, organizations, and incredible individuals who were deeply invested in healing our world and who, through innovation and grassroots strategies, were actually making a difference. As this framework developed, I kept it in my back pocket. It informed the way I viewed the world, but I wasn’t ready to fully share it.

But last year, after the promptings of some close friends, I decided to start putting it together in a way people could understand, and I started seeking out creative and courageous people and groups to highlight as examples of initiatives that were promoting long-term positive change amidst difficult or seemingly impossible circumstances. I also simultaneously wanted to educate others on the true roots of harm, so that we could most effectively diagnose problems and come up with solutions as a community.

So, I geared up to start sharing on social media, hoping to start with broad theories before getting into the specifics of the injustices in our world today. I felt this strategy would best help me deliver the framework to as many people as possible—I didn’t want to start calling people or countries out until I had established myself. But then, Israel’s response to October 7 made it impossible to keep things abstract. I had friends in Palestine and Lebanon, and I needed to step up, even if it hurt my chances of eventually sharing this framework.

It did the opposite, though, and every day, I’m humbled by the support and community I’ve built online. So this is what brought me here—to expose those who benefit from and continue to exploit ongoing crises around the world, to share stories of resilience and hope, and to play my small part in the pursuit of collective liberation.

Thank you for reading all of this. Thanks for being here. If you want to learn more about this framework, check out an introduction I wrote here.