I believe in the power of representation and its ability to reach the deepest, most unsung corners of our culture. How moving is it to go your whole life feeling utterly alone only to finally see yourself, against all odds, reflected back to you in art? Because of this, I devote my existence to telling my story, which I know can only be properly told by me, in the hopes that others whose histories intertwine with mine in the mythical ways that lives do, can see themselves in my art and feel a little less alone. I believe in the poetry of abstraction. My experience has been so unique that sometimes in my art, I find relatability only through abstractions. Because in abstractions, anyone can find themselves. Abstractions can birth meaning, if only the onlooker cares to conceive. I believe in the potency of language. As we scrape past each other in this world, all that we have to offer each other for healing is language. Whether it be a literary one or a visual one, language makes us feel not as broken. To be able to communicate your love for another, to have them thoroughly understand the mechanics of your devotion is the greatest blessing we may receive in this life. Language, meant to be transmitted, taught, and passed down, lasts even when one is penniless and their life savings burned to smithereens. From a young age, I have learned that the most cherished possession I can leave my children is the love for language. I believe in the possibility of a queer future, a “queer utopia” as Jose Munoz coined it, where to live outside of the mainstream is to uphold a euphoric existence. This queer future exists not as an ideal but as a place to come home to. Being a lesbian of color, I have always lived outside of the Eurocentric patriarchy. I know what it is to be the exotic, to sing yourself sore from inside a cage, to be the UFO. Doing everything in my power as an artist, I strive to build this queer future. I yearn for it. I yearn for a utopia in which alienness is the ticket to belonging.