The story
Every day, you can choose to walk a different path
It’s 2018. “Can’t you do anything right?” he snapped at me.
Everything happened so fast. With every step, the bandage on his leg slipped looser, and the looser it got, the more the horse jumped around in every direction. And the harder I tried to pull the bandage back into place, the more the horse panicked, until I found myself clumsy and unsafe, right in the middle of it.
The bandage hit the ground. I was mortified.
“Get out of my sight! I’ll do it myself!” he yelled.
I went to the bathroom and sat there, shaking. What just happened? Did he really just act like I can’t even wrap a bandage properly? Like I can’t do anything right, period? Did he really just humiliate me like that, with the owner standing right there?
It wasn’t the first time he treated me this way, of course. And it wasn’t the first time a dominant male vet talked down to me like that either. The whole veterinary patriarchy seems built that way.
I’m painting this series in 2026. While I paint it, I don’t yet realize I’m painting my “staying silent” trauma. I let people walk over me and never stood up for myself. I stayed quiet. Again and again and again.
Now I understand that I paint, so often, to express what I feel — because I couldn’t find the words for it. This series isn’t just about the horse from my story. It’s about me too, breaking free from the patriarchy.
This series is a reminder for the person who collects it: that you’re allowed to have boundaries. That your boundaries matter, and deserve to be respected. That you don’t have to squeeze yourself into the shape someone else demands. Every single day, you have the choice to break free and walk a different path.
