It only took 10 seconds for educator Jane Elliott to demonstrate how racism lives in all of us.

She asked a room full of mostly white people:

“If you would be happy to be treated as this society treats our Black citizens, please stand up.”

No one stood.

She waited a moment and repeated the q...

For years, I believed my son’s struggles were my fault. When he raged, withdrew, or acted out in public, I felt like I was failing as a mother. Every angry outburst, every meltdown, every call from school felt like a flashing neon sign announcing: “You’re doing it wrong.”

If you’ve felt this way to...

I used to believe that my fierce love for my Black twins was enough to inoculate them against racism. But whiteness—my own unexamined assumptions, reflexes, and fears—kept showing up in the quiet moments of parenting.

Late one night, I noticed a tall Black man walking toward me on an empty street. ...

Let’s be honest: the world is full of coaches. Life coaches. Parent coaches. Trauma coaches. Mindset coaches. Nervous system coaches. (Guilty—I’ve worked with several.)

So how do you know who’s right for you—especially when your life includes adoption, trauma, grief, race, identity, and the messy j...

Even thinking of yourself as a “rescuer” assumes someone else needed saving.

That someone else had misfortune. That you’re offering them something they didn’t have.

And the heartbreaking part is - your children feel that imbalance, even if they don't yet have the words for it.

They life in a worl...

When my twins were toddlers, I remember being called out about their hair.

Strangers—Black strangers—would approach me in the grocery store or at the park with comments that, at the time, I interpreted as criticism.

“You’ve got to moisturize their hair.”
“Whew, they’re dry, mama.”

In my head, I w...

I was born and raised in the Netherlands—in a white bubble.

A bubble where I learned history as it was written by the victor. I didn’t know to question it. The textbooks told clean stories of explorers and progress, and I memorized the facts that helped me pass the test.

But the deeper truth?
Thos...

I’ve learned there are two kinds of pain:
The pain you expect, and the pain that catches you off guard.

The pain I expected? Sleepless nights. Toddler tantrums. The challenge of parenting children with trauma-impacted nervous systems.

The pain I didn’t expect?

That came from family.

The Obitua...

When my children were toddlers, I remember a moment in the grocery store—an older Black woman looked at my kids and said something about their hair. She was kind and gentle but I was taken aback. Defensive. Embarrassed.

Inside, I thought, Why are you criticizing me? I was doing my best. At the time...

I remember the first time I noticed it.
We walked into a store, and I smiled politely at the clerk. My kids were with me—beautiful, radiant, curious.
No one greeted them. No one made eye contact.

I was offered help. They were not.

At first, I thought maybe I was imagining it. I told myself, “It’s ...

I’ll never forget the moment I got the call.

“Congratulations—you’re a mom!”
I gasped.
“Of twins.”
I gasped again.

It felt like my entire life shifted in a blink. Just like that, I went from wondering if adoption was really happening to knowing with every fiber of my being that it already had.

Bu...