My mother walked miles to photograph her children. She never missed a milestone. She made sure every one of us was captured — every birthday, every first day, every moment that mattered to her.
But she was never in any of the pictures.
She gave every moment to everyone else and thought that was enough. It wasn't until I was older that I understood what was missing. Not just from our albums. From her understanding of herself.
I picked up a camera because of her. I photograph women because of her. And every single session I do is a quiet correction of the story she accepted — the one that told her she didn't deserve to be in the frame.
You are not meant to be the one always behind the lens. You have a story. It belongs on the wall.








