Come, truth. Come, beauty. Come, light.
I was told to trust the brush, the canvas, the critique.
I was placed over a desk. I was turned into a contest.
I was watched. I was laughed at. I was broken in silence.
But I did not forget.
The spirit of my hands remembers.
My art is not yours to define.
Let the clearing begin.
Revoke – I revoke all consent given under pressure, humiliation, manipulation, or frozen fear. I revoke the teacher’s power over my body, my creativity, and my worth.
Return – I return the laughter, the shame, the objectification, the control. I return the watcher’s gaze. I return every bruise hidden in school colors. I return it all—without vengeance, but with finality.
Reclaim – I reclaim the studio as a sacred place. I reclaim the desk as a place of making, not breaking. I reclaim my art, my hands, my visions. I reclaim the innocence that was twisted. I reclaim my right to beauty.
They used my body to compete. I use my soul to create. I paint from freedom now.
Pule no ke Kiʻi – Prayer for the Artist
Let my hands remember
what they came to do.
Not to be taken.
Not to be touched without love.
Not to be mocked for how they trembled.
Let them paint in peace.
Let them sculpt truth.
Let them feel the wind and not flinch.
I forgive nothing—but I free myself.
My art is sacred.
My body is sacred.
My story is sacred.
And so I close this circle,
not with silence—
but with color.