What drew you to the work you do?
I am drawn to telling stories—through songs, poetry, journalism ventures, upon a canvas. There are many stories that are untold because the speakers have been historically maligned. I come from a lineage of humans who have been silenced for being female, for having a darker skin tone, for being a version of “other” that goes against the status quo. I wish to give voice to those stories: from the medieval female mystics to the Black cowboys to the punk subculture…to whatever voices have been historically and contemporarily muted.
What do you find rewarding, exciting, or challenging about creative work?
Those are certainly not mutual exclusive categories. I think that, most times, it is all three. When I play a show, I consider it successful if someone cries. The song is an act of catharsis for me and is an offering of catharsis to others—embracing feelings and vulnerability in a public space. Creating a moment like that is not easy, nor is settling into what it evokes, but we grow through moments of discomfort and I find that to be incredibly rewarding.
I also find it gratifying to learn that a life can exist outside of expected norms. Life as an artist teaches what a classroom cannot—about what society values, about life beyond a picket-fence ideal, about being a voice of dissent…coloring outside of the prescribed lines.
How did your career unfold?
I have often scribbled stories and poems. And my mother, a lifelong English teacher, encouraged such ventures. Even now, we’ll find drafts in a child’s scrawl about “The Last Unicorn” that she has been safekeeping in a box. I started writing for local magazines and papers when I lived in Las Vegas, and that is also when I found the joy in being an active participant in a local music scene. From there, things happened rather organically. I have followed intertwining threads, such as working at Gestalten or NPR Berlin or publishing my book with Dirt…all rooted in text and storytelling.
What’s the best thing you’ve learned so far, either in your work or some other aspect of your life?
“Go forth and do not delay good and important things.” A mantra written by the Capuchin Monk Crypt in Brno. My first tattoo was a memento mori (inspired by the cemeteries I used to study in that are scattered around Bowdoin’s campus—undisturbed quiet for a Professor Collings reading assignment), an image reminding the viewer that “thou too shall die.” I think it is important to remember that our time on this plane is fleeting. And so we must use that time wisely—to create, to love, to improve. That is a mantra that can apply to all aspects of my life.
Are there ways that your academic or extracurricular work at Bowdoin has come into play in your life or career?
Without question. My time in the German department proved very valuable for my life and career. My studies of the German language allowed me to move to Berlin and work for a publishing house, not only as a writer, but as a translator of the children’s books. My stint with WBOR made transitioning into a position at NPR Berlin a bit easier with my already-present-and-honed radio foundations.
What brought you to Bowdoin?
[Former admissions officers] Erby Mitchell and Elmer Moore were integral in my decision to attend Bowdoin. I met them while attending an SAT camp at UC Berkeley. As they regaled me with tales of Bowdoin and its smaller, more intimate classes as compared to the other colleges I had been considering, it started to seem like the ideal place to acquire an education.
Is there something about your work or life that others would find surprising?
When working on my book, I found myself unable to focus on the computer screen. Hundreds of pages surrounding me in piles and rows, I found order in the tangible chaos. It made it easier to fit together the pieces of a timeline told in ticket stubs and diary entries.
Is there something about YOU that others might find surprising?
I don’t jaywalk. I am not sure if this is because of time spent in Germany, where it is seemingly strictly verboten, or because of a desire to not draw attention to myself. Probably both.
Or perhaps the fact that I have goat testicles drying in a mixture of borax and salt next to my painting area.
What do you like to do in your spare time?
Spare time? Is that an oxymoron? Every moment we exist is a moment to do something productive. But outside of my time writing and painting, I spend time cleaning the chicken coop, sowing seeds, learning about my surroundings. I am not sure if that qualifies as spare time, as I believe that it is part of the human contract to be stewards of the surrounding realms.
Best Bowdoin memory, or most-lasting lesson from your Bowdoin days?
I took a few years off from college between my first and sophomore year at Bowdoin. When I returned, unsure how my age would translate in the traditional college setting, the community outside of the student body embraced me in beautiful ways. From my campus postal carrier to the staff in the music department to the professors in the German department to those in student activities, they all helped me transition—a version of comfortably. Not only with academic support but also with understanding that my rhythms might be slightly different as an older student. My time at Bowdoin made me realize that community might look different than how you expect, and that there is collective strength.
This story first appeared in the Spring/Summer 2026 issue of Bowdoin Magazine. Manage your subscription and see other stories from the magazine on the Bowdoin Magazine website.
