mother, photographer, cook, adventure seeker, feminist, lover, professional porch-sitter. I’m 36 years old and I live in Cajun country, deep in South Louisiana, USA.
Unwanted comments. Unwanted touches. Hot nights. Sweat. Longing. Wanted touches.Traveling and dirt stained. Desire. Empowerment. Young mother. Giver of life. Illness. Love in the purest form. Empowerment. Changing breasts, transforming into my Mother body. Insecurity. Exploration. Overcoming self-doubt. Sexual violation. Self-blame. Fear. Anger. Resilience. Healing. EMPOWERMENT.
I breastfed my son Noah for close to three years creating this lasting, incredible, indescribable bond. He is now 13 and my chest remains a place where he lays his head for nurturing and comfort. I remember as a young child laying my own head on my mother's chest, my eyes slowly closing as I listened to the sound of her voice reverberating through her body, lulling me to sleep. I felt safe.
Two years ago I was raped. I felt like my body was no longer my own. It's been an ongoing pilgrimage of healing and reclaiming what is MINE.
I wear Elppin as a badge of honor of the beauty of what it means to be a woman. And to help teach my son and others all of that honor and value.
Elppin reminds me that I'm strong. Of what I've overcome. Of finding, losing, and reclaiming myself. It reminds me to be confident.
A future with Elppin is a conversation. I have struggled with living back in my hometown in the conservative South. I've been quite pleasantly surprised at the reactions I've received when wearing Elppin around this town. It's sparked many questions that have led to a multitude of conversations involving the breast. It normalizes and celebrates something that is beautiful. A source of life and pleasure. Something that shouldn't be shameful. Elppin is loud and proud, but also subtle and graceful.