This isn’t politics.

This is motherhood with calloused hands and sleepless eyes.

This is one woman’s voice refusing to be small in a world that keeps asking her to whisper.

We’re not asking for a seat at the table.

We’re saying: build a better table.

Or watch us flip the damn thing.

WHY I WON'T STAND FOR THIS

I’m raising three daughters in a country that is legislating them out of existence—

not with bullets, but with silence.

With laws written in fear.

With classrooms stripped of truth.

With systems that diagnose instead of understand.

One of my girls is figuring out where she belongs.

One’s brain dances faster than the world can follow.

One is still learning to walk, and already I worry about the weight she’ll carry just to be seen.

I don’t parent from perfection—I parent from the edge.

From the place where love and fear hold hands.

Where I say the wrong thing sometimes, but I never stop showing up.

Because these kids?