IDENTITYRVA - Exploring our Humanity
Project Summary: IdentityRVA! is a photography and video exhibit that focuses on the humanity in each of us as our fellow human beings. Through it, we are seeking to raise awareness and explore issues around how we are all more alike than we might think despite some of our differences. Eleven diverse women and eleven diverse men were part of an interactive exhibit in February 2020.
In addition to being photographed, Memories Videography produced the video interviews, allowing these inspiring women and men to share their stories. The videos are engaging, powerful, and quite moving. Click here to read more about my inspiration for this project!
THE INTERVIEW
Interview on CBS 6 Richmond
Check out my interview on CBS 6 Richmond with Jessica Noll, Greg McQuade, and Shabina Shanawaz about the IdentityRVA project!
Complete Participant Interviews
Dr. Tiffany Jana
Dr. Tiffany Jana (who is gender neutral prefers they/them pronouns) grew up in Europe and other cultures which provided them with a broader view of the world than afforded most people. They were often the only African-American student in their classroom, both overseas and in the states. But it wasn’t until they were attending Virginia Union University—a historically African American University—that they experienced their professor’s assumption that they would excel.
In hindsight, Dr. Jana realized that throughout much of their academic career, their teachers believed they would be one of the lowest performing students. They also realized that they took great delight in proving them wrong. Their experiences informed their profession—they navigate the world building bridges across differences through their work in cultural diversity.
Smart, eloquent, and strongly opinionated (and unafraid to speak up), Dr. Jana describes themself as creative, visionary and overly optimistic. They struggled to be clear about their gender identity until recently; lives with depression and is comfortable with who they are. “I have had an extraordinarily positive experience as an African American person. I believe God made me beautifully and wonderfully and God doesn’t make mistakes.“
Jaime Areizaga-Soto
Jaime Areizaga-Soto is passionate. About life, about politics, about people, and about Puerto Rico, his birthplace. He now considers Virginia his home. Preferring to be considered a public servant rather than a politician, Jaime is committed to his role as a servant leader to help to create a better society and a better world by bringing people together. As the first Latino Deputy Secretary of Veteran and Defense Affairs in Virginia he succeeded in making Virginia the most veteran and military friendly state in the nation. Through his dedication and efforts, Jaime has also made Virginia the first state to effectively end veteran homelessness having housed over 4,000 veterans over the past five years. Another accomplishment that Jaime is proud of is his role in navigating the public policy and regulatory challenges that ultimately led to bringing two nursing homes for veterans to the Commonwealth and that are set to open in 2021.
Jaime’s eyes sparkle about the magic of his growing up in Puerto Rico in the 1980’s and the education and opportunities that his parents ensured he experienced. “It was a superb upbringing, one of pride, respect and knowledge. We were nourished without being nerds.” But, the politics of Puerto Rico are complicated; as a commonwealth of the United States, Puerto Ricans are US citizens. However, in recent years they have sadly lost their rights for self-government leading many Puerto Rican’s to move to the US mainland.
Gratitude and honor are fundamental themes in Jaime’s perspective of life. He’s proud of his heritage and the opportunities he’s experienced and the people he’s met along his journey. Every day he looks to the back of the Virginia State flag for guidance and motivation: ‘Perservando’ which translates to perseverance. “It shows that you just have to stay focused and keep working hard.”
“As a politician, you come to serve others as a representative of the group.
My rights end where your rights begin; we need to understand that in our society to live.
How can you ask to receive when you don’t give? How many people have died to have the right to vote or to have the right to freedom and equality?
It should not be your home life or your zip code that determines your success.”
Arianna Rose
The first thing you notice about Arianna Rose is how beautiful she is. Her skin is luminous and her eyes sparkle. Yet, she’ll tell you that she mostly hears, “you’re beautiful for a plus size girl.” Arianna is composed, articulate, well-dressed and accessorized and just as beautiful on the inside. She has a lovely singing voice and her rendition of “You are Beautiful” by Christina Aguilera is incredibly moving and powerful.
There have been few champions in Arianna’s life, but one of her strongest supporters was her dad who encouraged her creativity. He died two years ago from suicide. Her challenges with Sjogren Syndrome makes her feel like she has mono about forty percent of the time often impeding her ability to press on with her life and work. There are a lot of misconceptions about being plus-sized. As she says, “people assume I’m physically lazy when the opposite is true.” She does yoga, dances and people are often surprised when they learn she is a plus-sized model.
Facing adversity of her own has taught Arianna to be more accepting of herself and others. In the past year she has come to own the word “fat.” She will tell you, “I’m a fat girl.” She believes that we all have a tendency to judge people with a single glance without thinking about what that person might be battling. She wants people to see her championing herself so that they can champion themselves.
JUSTIN AYARS
You know there is more than meets the eye with Justin Ayars when you see his impeccably stylish suit, coupled with bright and vibrant socks peeking out from the hem of his trousers. As President & CEO of Q Media, Justin is on a mission to bring people together, particularly the LGBTQ community and inclusive businesses through storytelling and often in ways that might seem unconventional.
Growing up in Northern Virginia in an artistic family set against the political backdrop of Washington DC, Justin graduated from law school, run a restaurant and a nonprofit, and been a history teacher. This variety of experiences, coupled with his experience of having Liberace as his godfather, informs his advocacy work for the LGBTQ community. Choosing “Q” as his brand – which stands for the Queer in LGBTQ – shows Justin’s strong commitment to equality and his support for the current trend toward gays reclaiming the word for their own. As a child, Justin was overweight and introverted and the bullies called him “Queer” as a derogatory slur.
Justin believes that being gay is a spectrum, much like the rainbow that is a talisman of the gay community. “It's a world of color and most colors on the spectrum we can't see with the human eye and I think it (being gay) is within that spectrum.” Justin also believes the future for gay rights and equality is bright but will include the civil rights dance of one step forward and two steps back all the while moving forward.
Breaking down stereotypes and the walls that separates us drives Justin’s passion. He wants people to see that sexual orientation or gender identity is only a small part of who they are. “Gay people are like everyone - a complex set of emotions and ideas with dreams, aspirations, and lessons yet to be learned.”
“The goal of “Q” magazine is to connect people through the timeless art of storytelling and help inclusive businesses tie into the LGBTQ market sector.
Laugh hard, run fast and be kind. If you do those 3 things you can’t go wrong.
I think we should question everything, including ourselves, especially those things we think we know.
We cannot be defined by a single action. We are the sum of our parts. We have made many poor choices and we have learned from them. That’s called life.”
Davina Winn
Davina Winn grew up in a harsh, judgmental home where she believed God was out to catch her doing wrong and that he would judge and punish her for that wrong-doing. She has since come to believe that God is love and that rather than rules and judgement, her Christianity is more about a relationship with God and others. In her soft southern accent, she says quietly, “the first step is always just to love somebody.”
Still attending the same church she grew up in, Davina says the church had a huge paradigm shift in the 90’s where people began to think that perhaps what they’ve always believed was wrong. A lot of people left the church because of that shift, but that transformation helped frame Davina’s current conviction that grace and love simply must be the foundation for her belief system.
Davina understands that people have a tendency to make assumptions about her belief systems because they know she’s a Christian. However, she says she would hope they would to get to know her before making those judgements. As she says, “I know how wrong those judgments can be.” She tries not to feel guilty about her earlier judgements of others. She would want you to know that she is a loved and beloved daughter of God but that she’s human and makes mistakes like everyone else.
Dr. Roger Loria
Dr. Roger Loria has degrees in clinical microbiology, clinical biochemistry and has some 50 patents for medical discoveries in immunology and virus infections. He’s taught at MCV for 41 years and more than 6,000 people have become physicians under his tutelage. And yet, it’s somewhat of a miracle that Dr. Loria is here to make these profound contributions to our world. From the age of 2 ½ to 4 he lived in multiple refugee camps as a result of Hitler’s war on Jews.
Born in Antwerp, Belgium, in a well-to-do family in the diamond business, Dr. Loria and his family were rounded up during that city’s Kristallnacht pogram along with his parents, and other relatives. His father and cousins were ultimately deported to Auschwitz and he was sent to several refugee camps in France with his mother where they were provided a starvation diet of only 800 calories a day. In the winter of 1943-44, Dr. Loria’s mother used diamonds she’d hidden in a hollowed-out toothbrush to pay smugglers to take them to safety in Switzerland. It was his job to pop sugar cubes into the mouth of the other baby whenever he would start to cry in order to keep him quiet from the guards.
At the end of the war, Dr. Loria and his mother were expatriated back to Antwerp where they learned everyone on his father’s side of the family had been killed and they were essentially penniless and homeless. His mother became employed at a local Jewish orphanage and Dr. Loria was sent to live with the boys, only seeing his mother on her days off. The orphanage was ultimately moved to Israel and life began to get better for Dr. Loria and his mother. At the age of 18 he joined the Israeli army followed by college.
Fast forward to spring of 2018 and Dr. Loria visited the original deportation site which is now a museum outside Antwerp. For the first time he saw the face of his mother’s sister and the signature of his father. He also learned that he indeed had family that survived the war and they have now been in touch after more than 70 years of not knowing they existed.
“I don't have any hate. Hate eats you up. It only hurts you.
Everyone under the age of 9 who was sent to Auschwitz was killed immediately.
The war doesn’t end immediately. It took 70 years.
What does it meant to be Jewish? It’s a cultural thing, it’s about justice.”
Keri Abrams
At the age of 63, Keri Abrams has only been out as a transgender woman for about 8 years. From the time she was 3 years old, she knew that while she was male-bodied, her soul, brain and feelings were female-oriented. She always coveted the lacy anklets and the ballet flats that the “other girls” had and loved going to a friend’s house where they would play “sisters.” Kerri married four different women hoping to find the one woman who could “fix” her. As she says, “There’s a fix for this, but it’s not marrying a woman.”
Kerri’s life was so confusing and frustrating that she was intentionally rude and nasty to the people in her life so they wouldn’t get close enough to know her. She thought about transitioning in the 80’s but at the time she was involved with a group of motorcycle enthusiasts. Instinct told her that she would not survive coming out to this particular group of friends.
In late 2009 her fourth marriage was over, and she was so depressed she thought of killing herself. The only thing that stopped her was the idea that no one would take care of her dog. That defining moment changed her life, starting her on the journey to becoming the woman she is today.
Jesse Wysocki
Jesse Wysocki is funny, outgoing and loves to laugh. He also loves his kids and loves to help others. He is the COO for McShin Foundation, a nonprofit that is a recovery community that serves individuals and families in their fight against substance use disorders. Jesse knows something about that; he used to be a heroin addict.
Prior to achieving sobriety seven years ago, Jesse would boomerang in and out of prison, racking up numerous felony convictions and two sleeves of tattoos that represent his fierce love for his kids. His journey to drug addiction started like it does for many others - pain-relieving drugs prescribed as the result of a football injury in high school. His first experience with heroin was at the age of 15. It made him feel like a rock star and he chased that feeling for the next seventeen years. He landed in prison for the first time at the age of 19. Today, Jesse is proud to say he no longer uses any mood or mind-altering chemicals including alcohol or cigarettes.
At one of his lowest points, Jesse would shoot up in the back seat of his car in the company of his four-year-old son. When his son asked him if he could have some of his “medicine” too, Jesse knew it was time to get help, which he did just one week later. His recovery started with a 12-step program that he continues to adhere to today along with exercise and sports which also help him manage his addiction. He will tell you that recovery is a daily practice, a commitment to his mental hygiene.
“My recovery always comes first. I love it and it’s freeing.
People get knocked down all the time. It’s just about getting back up.
As they say, recovery is an inside job – it’s definitely got to come from within.
There’s a saying in the recovery world: ‘Love them until they can love themselves’ and I believe that’s so true.”
Matilda Frances Lynch
Born in Pittsylvania County, near Danville, Virginia, Matilda Frances Lynch grew up in the midst of the civil rights era – she was about thirteen when Martin Luther King was assassinated. She didn’t really understand the implications of the assassination until her grandmother went to vote in the Kennedy/Nixon election and came back so exhilarated saying, “We’ve got the vote!”
Until she was an adult Frances didn’t know she and her 7 brothers and sisters were poor. In the tenth grade, she was transferred to a segregated high school, noting it was hard for some but she never experienced the hatred and meanness that others did, perhaps because of her conciliatory attitude. Of that time, she remembers though, that there were people in her family who moved to the north and were passing (as white people). “They were afraid. There were physical things happening to them and they were afraid.”
Frances lives life by her dad’s motto: “It’s nice to be important but it’s more important to be nice.” She would like to leave an imprint that says Matilda Frances was here. “If you see something that’s orderly and nice I’d want you to think, I bet Frances had something to do with that. I’d want you to think that.”
Cornelius Johnson
Cornelius Johnson is tall, slender and professionally dressed; he loves to laugh and is a self-described “people-person.” Cornelius was nine when he first entered the foster care system. He remembers hugging his drug-addict mom and abusive stepdad goodbye in the front yard of his home. He was excited to see his older brother, James, who’d entered foster care just three months earlier. “It was like a scene out of a movie, I was just waving out the back window of the car ‘cause I just thought I was going to spend the night somewhere.” Except for a few very brief encounters, Cornelius wouldn’t see his mother for another 14 years.
Four foster homes and 5 years in a group home saw Cornelius through high school. During those years he was abused both emotionally and physically. It was during the years leading up to high school where he found respite and love staying with a temporary foster mom during the group home’s holiday breaks. He considers his foster mom, Ms. Woods, his family and calls her “mom.” After high school Cornelius went to college in Norfolk and then left early to join the Navy. He credits those years in the Navy with much of his adult perspective.
It’s been a long journey for Cornelius to feel the self-confidence that he carries today. Cornelius mother’s uncle is his father; and he has a great deal of compassion for his mother who was only 13 or 14 years old when his uncle raped her. She was even younger when she had his biological brother the year before who was also a child of incest and rape. As a young adult, he developed relationships with both of his parents as well as his 4 younger step-siblings.
The father of six children between the ages of 17 and 10 (three of them are his step-children), Cornelius believes his role is to instill in his children the self-confidence that he never had growing up. knowing that having a supportive adult who will encourage and believe in them will positively impact their future.
“I didn’t have any confidence and no self-esteem. I was like a turtle, hiding my head.
I don't mind sharing now because I'm more confident and I believe that my testimony will help somebody.
It’s never too late to start. It’s only too late to start if you never start.
I can't take away anything that I've been through because I wouldn't be who I am today, you know.”
Nathalia Artus
Nathalia Artus grew up in Sao Paulo, Brazil which, according to her, is like six New York cities piled on top of each other. She describes herself as high-energy and conservative but spending time with her, it’s easy to tell that Nathalia is also kind, intuitive, insightful and collaborative. She does believe sometimes that her Brazilian culture impedes her ability to be more respectful of other people’s personal space.
It was important to Nathalia that she become a U.S. citizen. She wanted to make sure that she would have the right to be active in her adopted country, to be able to vote and most importantly know that she would always be here for her husband and son. Her citizenship became final at a naturalization ceremony in July 2017. The process to citizenship was very cumbersome, complex and costly. The entire process took several years and as much as $11,000 for the attorneys who would help walk her through all the paperwork. The first time Nathalia heard the national anthem played after she became a citizen was at a Flying Squirrels game and she “sobbed like a baby because it was so emotional.”
She hopes that if she gives a piece of her story from the Latino community, that it will inspire more people to come out and give their piece of the story.
Derrick Billie
Derrick Billie’s philosophy of life can be summed up in just five words: Be positive and take chances. He’s a self-described technical nerd who loves his family and the adrenaline rush of extreme sports. Only as an afterthought does he add, “Oh, and I’m a black man of course.”
As a young man Derrick worked for a trucking company and his co-workers were racists, calling him “Billy Boy” ostensibly a play on his last name. When they refused to stop insulting him, he reported it to the HR department. The next week he was handed a pink slip saying his hours had been cut down from 40 per week to Saturdays only. And, yet, he saw that as a positive knowing that someday he’d have his dream career in IT and he wouldn’t have to suffer any longer in such a negative environment.
Besides Derrick’s beautiful dreadlocks and bright eyes, you notice the curiosity he has about everything around him. He grew up with an older generation who instilled the idea that white people couldn’t be trusted but his curiosity made him think, “they’re skin is just a different color, right?” That level of positivity and curiosity harkens back to how he was raised. His mom expected a level of maturity from Derrick so he wouldn’t end up like his older brothers – in and out of jail and prison.
The world has changed since Derrick’s childhood where the only white people he knew were the police officers who harassed him and his friends. And, even in the face of the current political climate and the #MeToo movement, Derrick likens the progress we’ve made as a society to the progress of technology: years ago it was terrible, but we’ve made great progress since then.
Derrick now has that IT job he dreamed of early on and he and his wife are raising two children to have the same drive, determination and positive spirit he has.
“I like to say that I don’t have bad days, but I do. I just push through them.
One of the greatest attributes that I can instill in my kids is positivity.
What you put out in the world comes back to you. Put out positivity – you get positive results.
Don’t be afraid to fail. I fail all the time. I just call it winning in reverse.”
Shabina Shahnawaz
When Shabina Shanawaz starts speaking, her quiet demeanor draws you in. Her soulful eyes are bottomless and you just know they have seen a world thousands of years old. Born in Pakistan, Shabina’s family emigrated to Bahrain in the Middle East when she was a child. She lived in Bahrain for about 18 years and has lived in Richmond for eight. She notes that there are so many misconceptions about her religion and how women are treated within it, including her professors who have wondered how her husband has allowed her to attend school.
As a single mother, Shabina’s perspective of the role of Muslim women in the U.S. is shaped by the world she wants her daughter to grow up in. She believes that Muslim women have a great weight of responsibility because they need to represent the very best part of their culture. “Everyone has their eyes on us.” With a gentle tug on her hijab she tells you that she has worn it since she was 12 and it’s “who I am.” She is often asked about it and she is always pleased to tell anyone who inquires that wearing the hijab is important because of the respect it is intended to convey and because it is such an important part of her religion. She wants people to know her or be her friend not because of what she looks like on the outside, but who she is on the inside. “When I wear the hijab, the men in my communities and from other communities do respect me.”
Dr. Edward Peeples
At 83, Dr. Ed Peeples, is sharp, articulate and fiery about his life-long commitment to being a self-proclaimed “justice seeker.” He is just as proud of his vocation as a medical behavioral scientist as he is about his ground-breaking work as an activist in race relations. He did innovative work in the early 1980’s around the AIDS crisis teaching doctors from a variety of medical specialties that disease has a behavioral dimension and connection.
Dr. Peeples grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Richmond during the 30’s and 40’s and is quick to tell you that he was a racist until he was 18 years old. As he became more active and influential in the civil rights movement, he was often called a traitor to his race. Born on Hitler’s birthday (April 20) Dr. Peeples finds it “stunning that his ideas were an important influence on my life without me knowing it. He was a racist, an anti-Semite and many of his ideas around white supremacy came from Virginia.”
In 1957, fresh from college, Dr. Peeples attended the Encampment for Citizenship, a summer leadership program that provided him his first taste of activism and civic responsibility. It was there that he met Eleanor Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, Jr. and others who solidified the passion for what would become his life’s work: to stand for desegregation and parity in race relations.
From 1959-64, segregationists in Prince Edward County closed their schools rather than comply with the 1954 landmark decision of Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court ruling segregation unconstitutional. His Master’s thesis explored the events surrounding this “massive resistance” and it later became a significant historical contribution to this important civil rights turning point.
“People don’t make progress without help from other people and I got a lot of help.
It wasn’t really courage [to be a social justice seeker]; in fact, I was scared most of the time.
I had marching orders from Eleanor Roosevelt [and MLK] to do more.
Education is key. It would be my dream that a teacher would be worth as much as a Wall Street broker.”
Suzanne Price-Grubbs
The pain and trauma of more than a hundred years of cultural homogenization are clearly evident when Annette and Chief Terry Price talk about their Cherokee heritage. Their daughter, Suzanne Price-Grubbs, sits quietly between them in full Cherokee dress – a traditional icon – representing a culture that is in danger of being lost. Terry is the Chief of the Wolf Creek Tribe and together with his wife and daughter they serve as modern day crusaders for cultural justice. There is palpable pride in their cultural inheritance. “I’m proud to be Cherokee, I’m proud that my family is Cherokee.”
Their anger and frustration stem from a legacy of racial inequity, abuse, and disenfranchisement, as well as ongoing prejudice, both historical and personal. At one time the Cherokee was the largest tribe on the East Coast, but from 1901 to 1946 the government began to reclassify Native Americans from “Indian” to either “black” or “white”. and it became very stigmatized to identify as Native American. The Price’s are determined to de-stigmatize and preserve their heritage, their traditions, and their language. One of their first steps is to see that the Wolf Creek Tribe is recognized by the State of Virginia which it currently is not.
Baldeep Pooni
They say that the eyes are the window to one’s soul and that’s never been truer than when looking into Baldeep Pooni’s eyes. Their soulfulness shows his deep connection to his humanity, his faith and the ancient spiritual practices of Sikhism. Baldeep was born and raised in Richmond, his parents having arrived in this country in the mid-1980s. They left their native India after experiencing oppression from the upheaval and aftermath of the death of India’s Prime Minister Indira Ghandi who was murdered by her two Sikh bodyguards in 1984.
Literally translated, Sikh means student or disciple and it’s clear that Baldeep is a student of life. He focuses on people’s energies and essence; what he calls their “vibration” and seeks to understand them with openness and love. Once at his job at the YMCA, a man was consistently harassing him, believing him to be Muslim. Rather than get angry, Baldeep chose to be curious about the man’s perceptions and educate him instead.
Growing up in a poor, predominately African American and Latino neighborhood, Baldeep only recently identified as Indian and had little experience with whites. He first experienced racism in middle school. About six years ago in his mid-teens, he started wearing a turban, a universal symbol of his faith, and he began to engage in the spirituality of Sihkism. His periodic wearing of the turban is controversial in the Sikh community. “It quickly became apparent who were my real friends and who was not.” At 23, he will tell you that he’s just now beginning to understand himself and how his experiences have shaped his life.
“You have one life to understand yourself and within that experience, you should try to do the least amount of harm to anything else around you.
When words are communicated in a very thoughtful way it allows you to understand the essence of what a person is really all about.
Growing up I didn’t really understand what it meant to be an Indian because I didn’t define myself like that.
When I have experienced hateful attitudes, I recognize that it’s not really hate, it’s fear.”
Sylvia DeVoss
Sylvia DeVoss’ story is one of loss, depression, attempted suicide and coming to terms with the idea of being gay. Growing up in a religious home she never thought that being gay – or happy – was an option for her, that is was only an option for others. As she says, “when you’re a kid, you believe everything the adults tell you.” So, as expected, she set herself on the “traditional” path of getting married, having 2.5 kids and a home with the white picket fence. Her self-worth hit rock bottom. She jokes that she was “such a loser I couldn’t even kill myself. But the truth is, it wasn’t in the plan for me to die at that time.”
After recognizing the truth in a friend’s statement: “you know you’re just gay, right?” she began to find herself. A defining moment for Sylvia was when she and a friend headed to Standing Rock to stand with the natives in their fight around water rights. “The white people were cussing at us. They called us – two white people – the “N” word.” She drove by fields where the police were pointing their weapons at them and for Sylvia, it didn’t feel like this could be America. Once in a prayer circle with a Palestinian, a Muslim, and a nun, the nun was sprayed in the face with mace by someone in a uniform. The experience changed her entire perception of her place in this world and helped her on her journey to self-acceptance.
BEN KING
Ben King describes himself as father, husband, and a veteran with PTSD. PTSD is a mental health disorder that can affect the central nervous system and creates an internal experience that often manifests as physical outbursts. When Ben first arrived home from Iraq it was difficult for him to understand why things were falling apart. On one hand, he was receiving accolades for his service and on the other hand he was managing angry meltdowns that were triggered by seemingly innocuous incidents.
As he talked about the tools he’s used to manage his PTSD, he realized that this was the first time he’s publicly claimed the disorder without feeling fear or shame. Since his return from Iraq he’s not only learned how to manage his feelings and outbursts through mindfulness, meditation and yoga but to share those tools and skills with his fellow veterans. Ben helps them understand that we are not defined by our thoughts and physicality, but rather by the awareness of our thoughts and body. “I used to think that if my thoughts were bad, I was bad, but now I know that’s not true.”
Ben founded Armor Down, a nonprofit that helps veterans struggling with PTSD. Through this work, he shows the warrior community that the skills they learn in the military, including focus and discipline, are the same skills they can employ with mindfulness techniques to tame their mind, and retrain it to process events and sensations in a much calmer, more even-tempered way. As Ben notes, “it’s a really well-oiled, functional way of being in combat and shifting it to being a well-oiled, functional way to being a civilian.”
Additionally, in 2014 Ben started the tradition of “Mindful Memorial Day” at Arlington cemetery where he visits with other veterans to help them honor fallen.
“It’s totally a cliché, but PTSD is both a gift and a curse.
The feeling is fiery, it's red, it's orange, it's angry and it just comes out.
What does it say about me to acknowledge that there’s a little monster inside of me?
The little voice in your head? It can be an angel and it can be a demon.”
Twila Jane Sikorksy
Twila Jane Sikorsky is the epitome of resilience, the essence of transformation. Her tattooed looks are evidence of the long and painful journey to reach the soft and tender heart that is now her essence. Twila Jane’s parents were abusive to her and her sisters growing up. Her mother is mentally ill and her father doesn’t agree with her life choices so they are no longer part of her life. “You wouldn’t treat a dog the way I was treated.” She remembers being terrified a lot growing up, and knowing she didn’t want that for her child it became the foundation for her parenting style.
Twila Jane always wanted to be a cowboy so much of her body art is about choosing images that make her feel safe or showcase her mental agility and strength. She is often stared at according to her husband and friends, but now she rarely notices. Having been judged so often on experiences in her life for which she had no control, she is a strong advocate for believing that people are often just doing the best they can. Too often, she says, “people are willing to make it your fault or consider you broken.”
Paul Taylor
Paul Taylor is not the man he used to be. At a young age Paul took part in a homicide, a decision that ultimately had horrible repercussions for not only his life, but his three sons as well. He was sentenced to life plus 26 years in prison and he served 23 consecutive years of that sentence before being paroled in 2017. All of Paul’s three sons are serving long-term prison sentences, in fact, prior to his release he shared a cell with one them. The sadness and grief in his eyes is palpable when he shares the sadness about being in prison with his children and missing out on being a positive influence in their lives before they got to prison.
Before getting out of prison, he started calling himself Taylor Paul to symbolize his transformation into a different person. He distanced himself from the gangs and thugs who influenced his early life and while still in prison began working on making a difference in the lives of others. He co-facilitated all of the VA Dept. of Corrections state mandated programs on re-entry from prison and upon his release he started a nonprofit called the S.A.N.I.T.Y. Project (Standing Against Negative Influences Towards Youth) whose mission is to help youth make better decisions and create harmony in their communities.
Taylor also serves as a peer recovery specialist, working on making communities feel safe with the return of its citizens post-incarceration. To facilitate that feeling of safety, Taylor created an urban basketball league called RVA League for Safer Streets - which in a single year - has grown from 8 to 17 teams. The league includes a team comprised of the Richmond Police Department – a true testament that Taylor Paul’s transformation is complete.
“A person can make a choice, but he can't choose the consequences.
I really believe God let me out of prison to do my very best to restore the humanity in people and society as a whole.
I would tell my younger self that thinking really does control your behavior.
I went through an ordeal and through that ordeal it helped me regain my humanity.”
Wafa Noble
Wafa – which means “Faithful” in Arabic – is so representative of her heritage and is a strong testament to her personality. When Wafa Noble talks, you occasionally pick up her soft southern accent which stems from being raised by her German Irish, Southern White, Baptist grandparents in Macon, Georgia. Wafa defines herself as a small lady, lesbian, married, feminist, Lebanese and a fur-baby owner.
Growing up within a multi-cultural and multi-religious family has made Wafa very accepting of everyone else, but early on she struggled to be true to herself. It was when she moved to Atlanta for college that she decided to find a way to come out to a friend. “Growing up in Macon there weren’t a lot of other brown-ish people and there weren’t many other people in the LGBTQ community. Coming out in college in 2001 was very scary.”
Both she and her wife – who is a registered nurse – have an affinity for helping people. Being a financial advisor is an important part of who Wafa is and to ensure her success in the industry she changed her name from Istanbuli to Noble when she married her wife. Despite the fear that she might lose business by disclosing that she is a lesbian, Wafa is committed to sharing her truth and being true to herself and her clients.