From 2018-2019 I presented this project as a poster presentation at 3 different nursing conferences, including the national Sigma Theta Tau 45th Biennial Convention. Subsequently, I was asked to give two lectures on the topics of trauma and photography, as they related to my story and the other women I’ve worked with. The first talk was supposed to be for a nursing research class, the other a keynote speech at a psychiatric nursing conference. After many months of preparation they were both cancelled because, well, 2020. I’ve been sitting on the material ever since, but this year has clarified a lot for me. Instead of holding out for the next opportunity to present, I’m giving an abbreviated version of my presentation a home here on my blog. I wholeheartedly believe in this work and think that these incredible women deserve to be seen and heard.

Please note that some names have been changed upon request for privacy reasons. My disclosures can be found at the bottom of the page.

Traumas are deeply distressing experiences that cause physical, emotional, spiritual, or psychological harm. I’ve had some therapists describe it as when a difficult event exceeds the coping ability of the person experiencing it. I typically use a very broad definition of trauma that includes the “big T’s” (i.e. sexual abuse, military combat, life threatening disease) and “little t’s” (i.e. divorce, financial issues, interpersonal conflict). To me, it’s all about perception, and those “little t’s” sometimes aren’t very little at all. Perhaps for some, the “big T’s" aren’t as big as they may be for others. Trauma is in the heart of the beholder.

Photography is a universal means with which we can honor life, not only by capturing moments, but also through storytelling. It is a way to reflect on our past, honor our present, and hope for our future. It’s also a uniquely literal medium. Traditionally, images have to involve the real world to be created, with photography being the only art form that has the ability to document and capture someone precisely as they are. There is creative interpretation in both shooting and editing. Yet, barring excessive digital manipulations, the subject can only be altered so much.

Trauma is what drew me to the difficult. The basis of reality and potential for vulnerability is what drew me to imagery.

Trauma + Photography

Exploring trauma through art is not a new concept. Photography, however, is most often linked to trauma in regards to its role in documenting culturally traumatic events such as war or natural disasters. Photojournalism, in particular, has long been regarded as an unparalleled way to capture the world’s greatest tragedies. But as far as art therapy is concerned, photography has never been at the forefront of techniques used.

Nearly all other art forms exclusively necessitate first person expression. You paint, draw, sculpt, et cetera from scratch. Photography, on the other hand, offers an alternative form of expression, one where you don’t have to create something from nothing. Taking photographs allows you to literally marry what’s around you with what’s inside of you; capturing it the way you want, the way you feel compelled to. When taking portraits, the being becomes part of the doing, you can actually insert yourself into your art. Amidst that, there is a deep witnessing through the process. Even if it’s just by yourself, that component of being captured is profound. If someone else is capturing you, that collaborative nature lends itself toward feeling supported. You’re essentially trusting and allowing someone else to offer you a perspective of yourself that you may not otherwise consider. While this project isn’t therapy and I have no qualifications to offer therapeutic interventions, the potential use of photography as a healing modality was glaringly obvious to me from the get go. I immediately saw the opportunity for photojournalism of the self.

The first photo in the collection above was me at 19 years old. My self-portraits started off painful and intense; a cathartic way to capture the pain that nothing else could. By this age I had already survived multiple traumas, the most profound of which was being sexually abused at the hands of a family member as a young girl. My already rocky relationship with myself got immeasurably harder as the years went on. I was not in my body, nor did I want to be. To me it felt unimportant, unattractive, and most challengingly, unsafe. Physically and emotionally I did horrible things to myself and largely neglected my health as a whole. I carried so much baggage around, figuratively in my head and heart, and literally in my weight and physical pain. When many of my family relationships began to crumble while I was in art school, I followed suit and my struggles intensified. That first photo was just the beginning of a very long personal and creative journey. I would go on to photograph my body in so many different ways: sucking it in, pushing it out, moving violently, standing still, trying on new personas, or taking away parts of myself. Once I re-staged my abuse and another time I painted my forehead as a nod to my almost certainly underdeveloped prefrontal cortex.

Shortly after that photo, and for many years following it, my body took all that I had been through and transformed it into vague, chronic ailments, a trait common among childhood trauma survivors. It wasn’t until multiple physical illnesses had manifested that I began the slow process of learning how to care for myself. Even still, it remains an ongoing journey to feel comfortable and truly believe that I deserve safety, peace, and joy. My healing, like many others’, will likely be a lifelong journey, but I’m proud to still be here for it. The last self-portrait in the collection was a recent one from 2019, roughly 15 years after the first one.

Out of all the outlets and art forms I’ve had access to, which were many, photography played the most significant role in my healing. It was mainly how I unlearned all the awful things people said and did to my body; how I honored all the shame, disgust, fear, detachment, attachment, confusion, anger, neglect, attention seeking, rebuilding, glory, and triumph associated with my life history. In front of a camera is where I became acquainted with my body in many ways, since it allowed me the freedom to explore without judgment. It was largely where I found inner power and meaning, where I learned how to love myself. I could be completely vulnerable, yet completely safe thanks to the tight degree of control (more on this later). Through my photography is how I put down my amour, the first place I felt comfortable softening my heart and lowering the sky high walls I built around myself. Words fail to capture how the girl I was became the woman I am today, but my portraits are a visual anthology of my transformation. I trust the story they tell.

After finding the safety and power in revealing myself through portraiture early on, my camera became how I processed everything. It offered an endless well of support, reflection, and, soon to follow, connection. While continuing self-portraiture, I simultaneously set out to document how trauma is held, expressed, and released by other people. I wanted to showcase these difficult things that we endure in a way that was both meaningful and beautiful, through the stories our bodies tell and the narratives we usually keep hidden from sight.

Seeking to understand others’ experiences and integrate how they were manifested, I gravitated towards the obvious survivors, the people that I personally knew. For my own work, I originally sought some kind of vindication. I wanted people to know what happened to me and for them to pay attention to me, like some sort of noble recognition. Initially I think, at least for the first few years, working with other people began with me wanting to feel less alone in the hardest parts of my life. Here is a piece from my first cohesive project, aptly entitled “Body Maps”. It was an on-the-nose visual interpretation of 5 people’s journeys (including my own) with overt physical trauma: cutting, childbirth, sexual assault, and/or eating disorders. We all had significant histories of trauma. I photographed each of them stripping down in layers, a visual metaphor, to eventually reveal their bodies and their hidden stories. The photos were curated in forensic-type files with each person’s demographic information and history.

Like my self portraits, the images I was taking of other people began to fill in the blanks that words failed to. Creating pictures like this is an unveiled opportunity for people put forth their beauty, pain, and courage. This, in and of itself, can be liberating and inspiring. It’s also a chance to outwardly acknowledge the darkness, complexities, and subtleties of trauma, which are often overlooked. Portraits have the ability to personify the difficulty and honor the triumph without narrowly reducing the person as a victim; a way for people to be presented holistically, not just as a “clinical picture” or a PTSD criteria check list.

I continued this work with people and their bodies throughout my time in college while earning my photography degree. A couple months after I graduated I had a terrible accident while assisting at a photoshoot that left me with permanent injuries. This slowed down everything, including my art. A few years later, the year before I began nursing school, I spent half a year in an ashram in Pennsylvania. I photographed a lot of people during this time, but it was one woman in particular that helped reignite my passion for capturing women’s stories through their bodies. Together we uncovered new levels of exploration and benefits.

Suzanne has physical malformations that come in the form of severe scoliosis, most notably a 43 degree curvature in her thoracic spine. She had spent years listening to the “oohs” and “aahs” of yoga teachers and students alike, who would marvel at her back when attention was drawn to her during class. They would gasp, meanwhile Suzanne was never able to see what was so astonishing. Sure, it was her spine and she had seen her own x-rays, but she’d never fully seen her back, not really. So, we captured it. We photographed her doing an entire yoga sequence nude so that she could appreciate her body in movement; the s-shaped curvature of her spine, how her shoulder blades flared out, the way her clavicles were off-kilter. In another set we took plain, direct shots of her body that I would later match up with photographs of her x-rays that I had taken on a light box. This way she could see the direct translation of bone structure to musculature.

Suzanne studied her images as a way to learn, process, and embrace her contours. When revisiting the images with her in preparation for this presentation, she described that “the photos matched [my body]. I could see where I felt what was going on in my body.” She also confessed to me that she only did the session with me because I “made it safe to be vulnerable”, which brings me to my next point.

Vulnerability as Power + The Empowerment Session Process

I’ve had the honor of working with women who have bravely endured cancer, rape, eating disorders, self-harm, physical injury and deformities, postpartum depression, or the traumatic loss of a child, parent or sibling. The traumas are so vastly different, but the one common thread is this: vulnerability is power. This has been one of my longest and fiercest held beliefs and this work only proves it.

My artistic journey with these women is meant to assist them in creatively processing and expressing their deepest struggles; the pain and glory that only they can fully understand. Ultimately, I want us to work together to generate portraits that tell their story with integrity and embody their journey through the pain, a journey of difficulty and personal triumph. The goal is to reveal and celebrate who this woman is, capturing her vulnerability as much as her strength. These qualities are not mutually exclusive, they are very much married to one another.

In 2014, another significant piece of this project’s evolution took place. I had met my good friend Onnie several years before, while I was in nursing school. Her Mother, Maryann, was already battling cancer and she would continue to fight like a warrior for years. Onnie’s family was the type you see in movies. Their love was, and still is, immeasurable and inspirational. When they could tell that the end of Maryann’s life was approaching, they asked me to come take one last set of family photos. A little over a month after this photo was taken, Maryann passed away peacefully at home with her family by her side.

A little over 3 years later, while I was taking an online photography workshop that pushed photographers to get to the heart of our art, I asked Onnie to do a session alone. It was the dead of winter so we had to pick a warm outfit. But it was the jewelry though that really shaped the meaning of the session. She wore a beautiful ring and necklace set that had been handed down from Maryann. We set out into a field to capture her portraits; some quiet, some melancholy, some longing, some glorious. I’ll never forget that it had been cloudy the entire day, yet as we were traipsing around, playing beautiful music, the clouds all of a sudden opened up to the most beautiful sun shining down. We knew her Mother was with us.

This was the beginning of the female empowerment sessions as I currently offer them. 

Due to their sensitive nature, these sessions began with people close to me. I still primarily work with women I know. But if we’re not already friends, our work begins when they first share their story with me. When I meet women through the context of this work, I have to say that while they may start out as strangers, they don’t remain that way for very long. For some, they might not have spoken much about their experiences before or felt comfortable sharing certain parts of their stories. Even if they’re already been very open about their journey, there’s always layers and this work can touch on some of those as well. Actively listening, with whole-hearted support and without judgment, is the first way I honor each of them.

The connection continues as we collectively plan an artistic vision that speaks to their story. I do not unilaterally plan these sessions, there is a lot of discussion involved. I eventually developed a questionnaire to be filled out beforehand that includes inquiries about the trauma, but also any visual queues that spark emotion or what they hope the overall vibe of the session will be. A lot of attention is given to who each woman is, what her style is, the parts of herself she wants to bring into the forefront, and how we can visually make that happen. This includes theoretical discussions, as well as logistical details like intentionally choosing specific clothes, jewelry, hair styles, and makeup.

My early work was all done in completely private studio spaces. Now, these sessions are predominantly done outside. I always use places where there are little to no people, that way we have the most amount of privacy possible.

The physicality of being photographed is very much worth discussing. Not only have I photographed myself and others for this type of work, I’ve posed for other photographers as well. Being in front of a camera can be an incredibly vulnerable place to be. It’s very direct, and especially when the focus is your own body or if you’re nude, it has the potential to become uncomfortable if handled the wrong way. This is why I try to establish a genuinely friendly and supportive rapport beforehand. This vulnerability of being in front of the lens is honestly is where I think the collaboration of creative portraits becomes even more freeing and healing. A meaningful connection transcends “taking pictures”. It builds trust and moves into a safe space, where the person being photographed can hopefully feel comfortable expressing themselves. This is perhaps the first time they’ve ever been photographed alone, or one of the first times they’re getting comfortable with feeling beautiful, or strong, or angry, or joyful in front of a camera. Maybe it’s the first time they’ve done a session since they became sick, or the first time they’re really putting their new bodies out there. I know for me, especially when I did my own boudoir photo session, surrendering to this level of disclosure was incredibly liberating. Whatever the woman’s unraveling may be, our session is a haven where she can reveal whatever parts of herself she wants to. She can feel authentically engaged and worth capturing while we work to create honest portraits. Getting there may not always be easy, but once you get there, it can be profound.

The Stories

Aly wanted to do a session together because she thinks this work is so “unbelievably powerful”. She said the images I create of women “bring such a powerful essence to light, showcasing their ability to take back their sense of security and power.” Aly was sexually abused when she was 13, by someone she thought was a friend. She said, “Putting myself in a situation where I was weak and allowed the sexual assault to happen was triggered by years of mental/emotional abuse, as well as some physical. Dealing with the aftermath of the assault lead to years of depression, anxiety, and body image issues, where I would use my sexuality to control a situation, trying to take back the choice that was taken from me.” With her images, she said she “wanted to gain a sense of pride, being able to walk tall, and say ‘I am more than what happened to me. I have succeeded not because of what happened to me, but in spite of it.’ I want my images to say that I am powerful, I am proud, and I am a fighter, but also that I am still feminine.”'

Abi has an extensive medical history. In addition to having survived colon cancer in her early 20’s, she has multiple other illnesses including Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, interstitial cystitis, and Lynch syndrome (a predisposition to many other types of cancer). She said of her ileostomy, “One thing that I realized when I woke up with an ileostomy was that I really didn't have any clue what it was. I immediately started researching it, reading every blog I could find. I watched every "How-To" video on Youtube and researched different types of products. What I found was either one of two things. 1- Ostomates (people with ostomies) who were enraged and sad about their appliances, and 2- Ostomates who were living life to the fullest and showing everyone that their appliance would never stop them from loving themselves. So I had a choice, which one would I be? Would I be afraid of my body and angry at the universe or God for giving me cancer? Or would I find encouragement in it because I got to be still VERY much alive, and have the ability to live my life to the fullest? I chose life. I hope by being a part of this project that it can encourage others with cancer and other ostomates. I hope to bring education to those that know nothing about it, like I did in the beginning. I hope it brings a light to those who are hurting and struggling learning to accept their new bodies with appliances. And by encouraging others and helping them, it brings encouragement and purpose to MY story and helps me heal as well!”

She said she “want[ed] to outwardly convey that I'm not afraid of shit, literally and figuratively. I'm not scared any more of little things and you shouldn't be either. Did I choose to have to live with a bag of poop hanging outside my body? Nope. But it happened and I'll be damned if I let that stop me from doing anything. I want it to convey that success and beauty is not just defined by what you see on the outside. Anyone can be beautiful and successful no matter what they look like. Shit happens. You can either have a tantrum while picking it up and start throwing it all over, or you can learn to control it and use it for good - for yourself and for everyone else.”

In Abi’s case, because she’s an amazing photographer and is married to another amazing photographer, she’s been photographed, a lot. So I specifically asked her before the session if there were any images or emotions she wanted to touch on; what part of her story was left that she wanted to uncover. Sure enough, even after years of being photographed, there were aspects of her body she wanted to capture more of or differently. This only proves how photography can potentially help us process many different facets of our experiences over a long span of time. The art evolves as we do, documenting that evolution along the way, which is a huge part of its benefit.

Kimberlee battled postpartum depression (PPD) for years. She wanted to do an empowerment session because she said she considers herself a “warrior woman” now (I agree!), after finding the immeasurable amount of strength it took to get through PPD. Eventually she shared her images on social media with a powerful accompanying post, where she boldly admitted for the first time that at one point she battled suicidal thoughts and her depression almost took her life. She went on to become a maternal mental health ambassador and uses her experiences to raise awareness and bring some much needed, honest conversations about motherhood to the table.

Danielle’s own words do a better job telling her story than I ever could. This is what she wrote about her session, “The last thing I wrote was my brother’s eulogy in September of 2016. Although this veteran army medic was able to serve two tours in Iraq and then graduate with honors from nursing school, the effects of PTSD were impossible for him to beat. He had used his life to save other people, but he could not save his own. As his big sister I felt responsible for his death. For months, I beat myself up for all the things I could’ve said and should’ve done. I became paralyzed. Lived in a daze for months. Believed that stress had dismantled my insides. Went for a routine check up and left with the news that my uterus had been riddled with fibroids and my ovaries with cysts. I had just turned 40. I already had three kids, but I wasn’t sure I was done having children. Being a mother, especially a single one, hasn’t been easy. But having to make a decision this final at a time when I was still grieving was nearly impossible. In just a matter of months I had lost both my baby brother and my ability to have any more children. I lived in darkness for longer than I’d like to remember. Writing about it now still pains me. But through it all, I was somehow able to hold onto my blessings and find gratitude in what miracles I had left. On the day of our shoot, we chased the sunshine on a near winter’s day surrounded by the absolute magic of the universe, the calm of the sea, and the stinging bitterness of being alive. The shoot was not simply a symbolic form of empowerment, it was a reminder that we can always find light even in our darkest hours and that life is too short not to celebrate the sheer beauty of being free…”

Shortly after giving birth to her daughter, Kim was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer in April 2015, at 29 years old. She was told after her diagnosis that she had months to live. That was followed by many surgeries and even more rounds of chemo and radiation. When I asked her to describe why she wanted to spend her precious time and energy doing a photo session, she wrote this:

“Securing these beautiful images amidst the most difficult of times was cathartic. Although I no longer feel like myself, I still wanted to capture the true essence of who I am and that encompasses how I look to my daughter, as her mother. I no longer wanted to wait until I’m fitter, have more hair back, can get my skin under control... This is how she sees me for real and how I hope to live on in her memories. This opportunity has been so positive for both of us. We will always remember our magical experience exploring the gardens with our pal, Bridget. Most of the photos we have together are selfies, staged and posed. Through her photography, Bridget was able to envelop the essence of our relationship; the love, the warmth, all the feelings. We have the photos all over our house and they bring us such a peace and comfort during the hardest of days. Our lives were made forever complicated by stage 4 colon cancer. It’s not fair, it’s ugly, and it’s robbed us of so much, but not the love and bond we have for each other. That only grows stronger. I want Ellie to remember to persevere and to thrive. On chemo and recovering from surgery, while dealing with other hugely emotional problematic issues, get outside yourself, throw on your pretty dress and go for a frolic with your favorite person and remember the beauty the world still holds.”

Kim is still is here, still fighting, over 5 years after her diagnosis.

Kate was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 30 years old after finding a lump while she was breast feeding her new baby. She had a double mastectomy and was afterwards diagnosed with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome, which can cause multiple cancers. For the rest of her life she will have to be closely monitored. Not very long after her diagnosis, she found out that her older son has the same disorder.

She’s said after her initial session, “You made us feel so special and normal when most people just looked at us sad. You captured such special pictures and in a time in our lives when it could have went either way good or bad. Those could have been our last pictures together. I thought about that so many times. My friend died during her chemo treatments and we were going through it together and the last pictures she has with her family are her cancer ones.... It’s a real thought that scared me so much. I am [just] thankful that you found me, because if those were my last pictures my family would always know that we loved each other so much! The pictures were taken beautifully. I still look at them and cry because they just mean the world to me. It makes me remember the good parts of that time instead of the bad.”

Kate has been very upfront of the the details of her journey, saying “I try to be transparent with people with all of this because if I can help 1 person with their journey then this was all worth it.” During our first session, she was still amidst her surgeries. We did another family session in January 2020 to celebrate her first year being cancer free. She had undergone her final surgery, as well as nipple tattooing, which she was especially excited about. Upon her request we took a series of solo shots of her and her beautiful new body.

The Power of Photography For Trauma Survivors/Warriors

First and foremost, I think the biggest value of partaking in these sessions is the ability to choose a new narrative or, rather, express an old narrative in a different, more empowering way. As I mentioned earlier, loss of control is a key aspect of trauma. Photography, while some may argue that it’s trite, really offers women the choice and control over the how, why and what of presenting themselves. Yes, there is creative input and interpretation from my end, but the mere participation, as well as the type and extent of exposure, revolves one-hundred percent around their choices. These sessions are a ripe opportunity for safe exploration and healthy self love. Because each experience can be tailor fit to the person being photographed and where they are in their journey, the options are limitless. It can be a cathartic vehicle for honoring trauma, or a way to move through it, or a purely joyous recognition of being on the other side, or a combination of all of these things. Abi is a great example of how these sessions can also just be a really fun way to open up about some things that were really un-fun when they happened. She is an incredible inspiration for other people facing colon cancer or ostomies.

The aspect of building a trusting relationship from these creative projects is also of value, though I’ve seen this benefit some people more than others. In particular, the women who’ve taken very vulnerable nude portraits or those who have been through sexual abuse are notably comforted and supported by having someone they can reveal themselves to without judgment. I know this was especially true for me when people assisted with my self-portraits or when other photographers captured me.

Integration of your body is also huge. I feel that it’s true with all backgrounds, but I’ve seen it to be especially helpful for those who have had physical traumas. Integrating the physicality of illness or injury into someone’s self-perception via portraiture offers a safe space and positive context where she can both explore and potentially view herself in a new light.

After I deliver a gallery of images, each woman is free to examine her physical form and artistic narrative in the comfort of her own private space and on her own timeline. These images are fully edited for color and style, and I deliver them in narrative format (the order that I feel best tells their story). I do not share or show any images from these sessions until I have explicit permission. From my own experience and the feedback I’ve gotten from the women I’ve worked with, examining the images can be emotional. It includes deep reflection on what had to be conquered to get to where they are in present day. Many women report feeling differently, more positive, about themselves- their bodies or their journeys- upon seeing their images. 

Doing these sessions privately, then viewing the photographs later, and choosing final images with just the two of us involved creates this moat of safety where unwanted opinions or criticisms cannot enter. It is a shielded experience, either between the photographer and the subject, or the photographer and themselves if it is self-portraiture. This is one of the largest benefits of photography: nobody will ever see the photographs unless you intentionally let them. There are hundreds of images of myself and probably thousands of other women that have never seen the light of day. That’s the strength in the space photography creates. It allows for us to go deeper, to risk more, knowing that each session is protected by the power of choice. This is a very important point for trauma survivors as all traumas involve, to some degree, a loss of control.

I’ve found how the photos are personally held for each woman is dependent on circumstances. Of course my perception is part speculation, but I can extrapolate from what they’ve shared with me. Reactions range from curiosity to feeling powerful. For the cancer patients I’ve worked with, as well as those who have lost someone close to them, the photos are more of a reminder to savor life and cherish love regardless of tragic circumstances. The cancer patients who are in remission also obviously see the session as a rightful time to celebrate! Where the photos end up also depends. I have had some women make albums, others have shared them only on social media. Some, who are obviously not featured here, have kept them strictly private. Personally, I only occasionally share mine to generate awareness, but mainly keep private prints to periodically look at to reflect on and honor my progress.

Ulrich Baer once said that “trauma, just like photography, is…an ‘enigma’, a ‘crisis in representational models’”. Multiple people have echoed this same sentiment when discussing photography’s role in documenting historical traumas. There are endless personal applications of that theory. That representational impossibility of trauma is where photography can really shine. I think the process of using creative outlets to help symbolize, actualize and nurture healing is something that will continue to gain traction in the upcoming years, especially as a culture of disclosure continues to be built around very difficult topics.

Community Impact

In 2019, during the interactive portion of my poster presentation at the Sigma Theta Tau conference, I saw a handful of people walk up, visibly show strong emotions, and eventually walk away from my poster without ever saying a word to me. Trauma is an important conversation that we all should to be addressing. But it exists in many shapes and forms, whether we’re talking about it or not, and in places we likely won't ever realize. I am not famous, nor are any the women I’ve worked with for this project. Even still, on this small of a scale, the images and the stories behind them have a ripple effect beyond what any of us expected or will ever truly know. The people who did talk to me about their feelings around the work, both at that exhibit and the other two times I’ve presented, shared vulnerable and beautiful stories with me about how their lives or the lives of their loved ones that had been touched by trauma. So the impact doesn’t stop at me or the women I photograph. Yes, it helps to heal and empower both of us, but as the images and narratives are shared, they champion a notable amount, and particularly important kind of social awareness. Projects like this give people to chance to share their lived experiences, to know they’re not alone, and to continue the ongoing work on unraveling complex challenges.

Having real life portraits accompanied by honest stories allows the personalization of an often purely theoretical discussion. This person-specific vulnerability de-stigmatizes traumas in a way that statistics and abstract dialogue can’t. In medicine, privacy and patient confidentiality almost always prohibits us from highlighting specific patient stories. Art, on the other hand, is voluntary and therefore can be so much more public. Each woman gets to choose their narrative, create the work privately, but acknowledge it publicly. It is a new way for them to stand up and say “Look at me. Look at what I’ve been through. I survived and have found my power”. 

The actual insight these stories offer us is also compelling. Through these women, we’re able to see what they went through, while at the same time, seeing how much more they are than just this one piece of their lives. Again, supporting that holistic view.

For other people who may be battling similar issues, these images are offerings of camaraderie, inspiration and hope. Seeing a cancer survivor’s new breasts, or a beautiful woman rocking her ostomy, or someone rising above the confines of their depression, can and does change perspective. These women are some of the most formidable women I’ve ever met. Many of them also do their own advocacy work for the causes they’re passionate about and the impact is massive. It offers a new way to feel about things many people may not know how to handle. These stories show examples of difficulty, as well as strength, and they demonstrate vulnerability, courage and persistence. 

We all function in so many roles in life and we do not arrive to any of them as disparate parts of a whole. We come as ourselves, with all of our own sorrows, our own joys, and our own stories. Whether it is through witnessing or active participation, we can all help change how trauma is acknowledged and held, in ourselves and in others, transforming our collective outlook and outcomes. 

Life often hands us incredible burdens and most of us carry around very heavy, unseen weights. But we don’t have to hide them or hide from them. We all have the option to be resolute in our vulnerability. What once started as an expression of my own pain later became wanting to show how I had turned out, despite these things I’ve endured. My curious fascination with other people’s tribulations turned into wanting other people to see the strength in individuals that blew me away. I continue to explore myself, past and present, through my photography. This project started as me transforming my traumas into fortitude but continued with me being remaining in awe of how other people do the same. It’s evolved to be this beautiful intersection of vulnerability, courage, empowerment, and awareness.It has reappropriated traumas, transforming them into motivation, fortitude, and compassion. It has been healing for me and I sincerely hope it has been for the women I’ve captured, as well as the people that the images resonate with. Being open about where we’ve been and where we’re at is truly how I believe we will all find our collective strength. I hope that someone, somewhere, hears these stories, sees these scars, and realizes that shame, self-hatred, or failure aren’t inevitabilities of trauma; that a really difficult past doesn’t have to hold you back from a brilliant, fulfilling life.

Disclosures: (1) I have spent many years in therapy and working with a team of medical professionals to handle my mental and physical health. Most of the women I’ve worked with have done, or are doing, the same. I am not a mental health professional or a mental health nurse. Nothing I do is meant to replace therapy or medical treatment in any way and does not involve providing treatment or diagnoses. (2) None of the people I have photographed have ever been patients of mine in any aspect. I am working with them purely as a photographer and fellow trauma survivor, not as a nurse. I met all of them outside of my role as a nurse and have zero connection to them through any of my nursing jobs. Similarly, this work is not, nor has it ever been sponsored by any healthcare organization I’ve worked for.