I have a confession—or a few, actually.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I first started this business, I struggled with one of the most basic things:

 

 

Everyone says:

So, after a lot of thinking, I came up with the idea that I wanted to work with Latina service providers.

 

There was nothing wrong with that decision—except how much I kept thinking about the people I might be excluding.

 

Starting with: folks who don’t identify as women.

 

And then, the weight of how few Latine folks even exist in the online space (let alone other people of color).

 

 

 

So I quietly dropped the “Latine” and stuck with just service pros and creatives.

 

I still always wanted to work with other BIPOC folks, but I didn’t feel like I had the “right” explanation for why. Other than just… being one of them.

 

So I put a pin in it and kept it moving.

 

Then a couple weeks ago, I witnessed something I’ll never forget involving ICE.

 

I won’t go into detail, because this isn’t a new story, and that’s the heartbreaking part.

 

But nothing could have prepared me seeing a man pinned down on the ground like if he wasn't a person. 

 

I was on my way to a hair appointment.

 

And the moment it happened—my whole body went cold.

 

My hands were trembling.

 

My chest went tight.

 

I called my sister and broke down sobbing the second she said hello.

 

“I’m okay,” I told her so she knew I was safe.

 

And that made me weep even harder. Because I was okay. But that man wasn’t.

 

I cried the whole way there. Infuriated. Frustrated. Feeling sick. Feeling helpless.

 

And then slapped in the face with the reality that I was about to step into a space that wasn’t made for me.

 

A space where the second they noticed I had cried and I was asked what was wrong, I couldn’t talk about what just happened.

 

Because it wasn’t a safe space for a Mexican girl like me.

 

I didn’t cancel the appointment. I needed it.

 

I’d already been feeling like I should find a new stylist, one that did feel safe.

 

But time didn’t stop, I didn't move fast enough, and I ran out of options.

 

I felt gross for ignoring my values and ashamed my people pleasing tendencies left me with no other options, but to go to her.

 

I was going to power through this appointment with the mindset that I was doing this as an act for me, not for that salon.

 

So I walked in to the salon and sat at the styling chair, knowing it would be that last day I’d ever sit there.

 

I pulled out my laptop like I always do.

 

And I felt it—this undeniable pull to make it loud and clear:

 

 

And for the first time in a long time—it felt so fucking right.

 

Not just “good.” 

 

Not just “better.”

 

It felt freeing.

 

Because while I want my brand to feel like a safe space for everyone who comes across it—

 

I especially want to amplify BIPOC voices.

 

I couldn’t help the man being ripped from his family that day.

 

But I can help another BIPOC business show up loud and proud as fuck for what they have built.

 

This is part I can do and what I want to do.

 

Some folks say they don’t need to say “I work with BIPOC brands” because it’s implied.

 

But I want to make it clear as fuck that these are the people I’m here for.

 

Because I want to serve my community.

 

I want to make sure y'all know you're safe with me–all of you.

 

Every day, I’m one of the few (if not the only) person of color in certain online spaces, and while it doesn’t stop me from continuing to show up, I get hyped the fuck up when I’m not alone.

 

I feel seen and understood better.

 

I want more of that.

 

I crave that so much.

 

For me. For you. For us.

 

Let’s thrive.

 

Let’s do better.

 

Let’s be better.

 

Your aesthetics can make people feel drawn to you.

 

But whether that’s your culture, your identity, your values, your lived experiences, or the parts of you that feel “too tender” or “too complicated” to explain,

 

Those pieces are exactly what make people feel way more connected to you than a meme ever could.

 

 

So this week, I want to challenge you (and myself) to honor the part of you that’s been waiting to be seen.

 

Maybe that looks like sharing a story to your email list, community, or social media post.

 

Maybe that looks like naming the people you’re here for.

 

Maybe that looks like bringing your language (like Riya did here, beautifully), your identity, or your POV back into your brand.

 

You’re not “oversharing.”

 

You’re not doing it wrong.

 

You’re not accidentally pushing away the right people.

 

 

The more you, you become in your business, the more your people will feel it and the more welcomed they’ll feel showing up with you.

 

You don’t have to share something vulnerable online every day.

 

But don’t silence the parts of you that make you feel powerful, grounded, and understood.

 

Your people don’t just choose you for your skills.

 

They also choose you because they feel safe with you.