I grew up as an awkward mixed-race kid in Vancouver, WA — a daughter of a White mother and a Black father, navigating identity, belonging, and the hurt of wanting to be seen. I thought I was destined to be Whitney Houston. Instead, I found my voice in public health.

At a community college variety show, I met Kevin — a man whose warmth steadied me during my parents’ divorce. Months later, he walked across my high school auditorium stage and said, “My name is Kevin, and I’m HIV positive.” Those eight words changed everything.

I wasn’t meant to sing. I was meant to speak. To educate. To engage. To build trust where systems had broken it.

I joined REAL — a youth health education group through the local health department — and learned that public health is not just science. It’s story. It’s empathy. It’s community engagement. It’s liberation work.

Today, I carry Kevin’s courage with me. I carry every community that raised me. I carry the truth that public health cannot thrive inside systems built to suppress it. My work is rooted in equity, compassion, accountability, and the belief that lived experience is expertise.

I am one bee in a radiant hive — shaped by community, committed to community, and working every day to return power to the people it belongs to.