My Story

I found photography when I was a foreign exchange student in Denmark in high school. Experiencing life as a foreigner was new to me and taking pictures helped the transition.

Once a week I attended a mandatory government funded Danish language and culture school, in addition to gymnasium (high school), for all new residents in the country. My classes were full of refugees and immigrants. Their experience was very different than mine. They were from North Africa, the Middle East, and other less developed countries. They had fewer resources, came from life threatening situations, very different cultures, and were there permanently.

This was their life.

On the surface I returned to the US with an increased feeling of independence, some cool euro shoes and higher alcohol tolerance. But in the long run, the year gave me a small taste of what it feels like to be an outsider, to be judged due to stereotypes, intimidated because you don’t understand how things work, upset by miscommunication and frustrated that people don’t understand who you are. When I met foreigners in my own country, I had increased empathy for their experience.

Back in the US, I studied Industrial and Labor Relations at Cornell University, and then served two years with AmeriCorps (NCCC and VISTA). I worked with VISTA at Kent Elementary School, in outside of Seattle, WA. It is one of the most diverse schools in the US, with 138 languages spoken in the district. Many of the families didn’t have access to professional photography and I was able to combine my passion for refugee communities, and taking photos of people’s loved ones with story telling images used for marketing for the non-profit I was working for, Communities in Schools.

Post AmeriCorps, while working for a non-profit in the Bay Area, around San Fransisco, California, I mentioned to my bank teller, Angelica, that I was interested in pursuing photography as a career and I was looking for volunteer opportunities. Angelica suggested that I photograph for her kids’ cheer-leading and football organization.

They were based in Hayward, California, which is a distant suburb of San Francisco. The community has a large population of Mexican immigrants.  I took the BART to the last stop and biked down a huge highway with my gear for the last 5 miles to the fields.

I became their sports photographer. I was far from home, and it was so nice to get to know families. I started photographing more events and celebrations of people I met in Hayward, who were mostly Mexican. People had me over for dinner in exchange, or treated me in other ways. I photographed baptisms, birthdays and took family photos.

Their community embraced me and the families cherished the photos I took.

They shared them across social media for relatives they were separated from, and hung framed prints in their homes. Angelica’s husband had been deported, and was not able to come to the US.  They had two kids.

It made me realize that photography can allow others to really see and honor themselves. Our stories are all so important. A photo might symbolize all the years, work, sacrifice, and love that is part of someone’s journey.  When I take photos, the most important thing I like to bring to a shoot is my ability to see someone and capture their truth. Whether it’s a wedding, event or portrait shoot. We all have stories.

As I write this I can see a black and white framed photo of my deceased grandparents on my mantle. They are sitting at a white linen table, with glasses raised in celebration across from their best friends, Ray and Etta. They is a Navy soldier in white navy outfit in the background and a woman further down the table ashing her cigarette and some men in the background smoking cigars. They are in New York City, where they met up with their friends the day after they got married, starting off their honeymoon. They are a significant part of my story, and I love having this photo out as a reminder of them, their zest for life, the loving family they created, and how my life and actions are a part of their legacy.