I am a migrant. A feminist. A mother. A fighter. A dancer. A unifier. Me.
When I was six years old, I told my mother that I wanted to be the second female justice on the US Supreme Court. Even then, I recognised inequality, the importance of representation and the potential to be whoever I wanted to be.
My life didn’t take me to law school or the Supreme Court (thank goodness for RBG!), yet it has taken me to places like Nicaragua, where I lived for the formative years of my 20s, starting the first lending library in Central America and writing my dissertation on gender representation. And to England, where I have built a career in ending violence against women and girls through supporting individuals, communities and organisations to take responsibility for this issue so that women can live to their full potential, free from violence and abuse.
Four years ago, I found myself at a crossroads. I was working 60 hours a week as the Violence Against Women and Girls Strategic Lead for central London. I had a son with special needs. I had lots of friends and was married yet was drowning under the pressure of keeping up with everything I ‘had’ to do. I was beyond tired. Even though I was doing work I was incredibly proud of, I felt hollow + lost on a pressure-filled path, chasing perfection. Never feeling enough.
I look back now and know that I was living 100% in my head, in my action-driven masculine energy. My body was something I thought of as simply a vehicle for carrying my large brain around. It was giving me sign after sign in the form of infertility and debilitating migraines that it needed my attention + my love. To be part of the rising of the Divine Feminine I was leading professionally, by coming home to the feminine intuition and power in my body.
So I started to listen to HER.
I slowed down.
I did yoga.
I took time off.
I communed with like-minded women.
I remembered HER.
I went on the longest journey – the six inches from my head into my heart. I began to make friends with my body, listening to and living aligned with her cycles.
On top of the Glastonbury Tor, I found Qoya, the movement practice that has transformed my inner and outer landscape and has connected me to an international tribe of movement makers + sisters committed to remembering who they are and expressing their full, vulnerable + authentic selves.