The first time I laid eyes on this human, with their sparkling blue eyes and brilliant smile, was at a mutual friend’s bbq. They looked at me after engaging in small talk about our ages, what area of town we lived, and said; “We are going to be friends, we live close, my name is Ever.” My partner and I both went home that night saying we think we met one of the most precious humans we had ever known.

Having family be part of this project, is such a special and tender area of my work for me. We all love our close friends, they are family. I don’t like using the word “chosen” because family is family. There are no qualifiers. This right here is family. When I enter this special space with people in my heart space (that’s not a queer bbq or brunchy hangout) but rather a tender place where we start to share things about our lives that most people don’t want to talk about or hear; It does something to a friendship. For me, it begins to create an emotional map of this human I love so much. Like I can start to see the roots of the plant that is the person I know today.

This shoot with Ever had me very emotional. Hearing the things that little Ever had to navigate, and knowing the person I know now. Seeing the devastation in their eyes when talking about the mental health issues they witnessed growing up with their birth mother. Their birth father being a Palestinian refugee and emotionally absent. I was able to witness a part of their life that has formed this person so many of us care about. 

Below are quotes from Ever during their session, along with their official portraits. I will wrap up the end of the piece with a few extra photographers notes about something this session has inspired me to write about next! I would love your feedback. 

Below are quotes from Ever’s session:

I was born into a very dysfunctional and unhealthy environment. My birth parents were older, and had me later in life. And to this day, I still don’t know why.  My birth dad was born in Gaza and immigrated in his college years from Jordan. My birth mother first generation was Irish, and they were both one of 5 siblings.

When I was young my grandma, my birth mother’s mother lived with us. And it was a blessing and a curse. I could see the line of abuse from her, to my mother, to us. When I was 9 my grandmother died. That was the turning point for Carolyn (birth mom). She was never the same mentally. It was after my grandmas death when I was 9, that I first started staying with friends or forced to be at my aunt’s, for extended periods of time. 

That was my first introduction to the idea of suicide. I remember walking into her room, at that young age, trying to be so quiet as to not cause any disruption, because of how huge the reaction was if I did. I just wanted to get close to her to make sure she was still breathing. She would always talk about how much she hated everything and didn’t want to live.

From as early as I can remember, they never seemed happy in their marriage. My father was rarely around and when he was, it usually ended in Carolyn crying hysterically and him yelling. I would try to break it up and would often get hurt physically and emotionally. 

I remember as a kid thinking and wondering, how I even came to be. 

I told my dad we needed to get her help. I was worried about her. I don’t remember any help or solutions. 

Then by the age of 13, I was staying with friends for more than half of the time. I did a lot of “managing” around who I stayed with, never wanting to overstay my welcome but knew I didn’t want to be at home. One of those friends,Jack, died when we were 13. It was a crack in my reality. Him dying had a profound impact on me. It really shook me up. He had nice parents, a typical household. If it could happen to him, what would happen to me?

In HS when I started dating my first girlfriend, her parents were very loving and supportive of me, I feel so grateful for that. Her mom even tried to get help for Carolyn once. It was clear my brother and I weren’t in a good place. The neglect and abuse was glaring. 

I worked really hard from early on, to keep people around me that cared and were wanting to help me. I’ve been estranged from them for 21 years.

Being poor, being arab, being fat and being queer, despite all of that, I had a level of survival. 

I never really felt like I have a need to “come out” as anything, to anyone. I always knew “I am not this, or that. I am just me.” I had been told all the things wrong with me, and yet I still knew who I was! I never used the word lesbian. Dyke felt ok, because it felt “othered” I knew I wasn’t a guy or a girl. 

By my early 20s, I had the language and education around what I felt inside. I remember exactly where I was when I fully realized my nonbinary identity. I was at work, reading an article that described being non-binary as something not on a spectrum but three dimensional. There were no boundaries. It became a 3-d visual for me. Like a galaxy. I exist outside of the line. I was having exciting and new conversations around gender before it was common. 

My first pet at 20 was a cat named Gatsby. The reason I got him was because I didn’t want to be alive. I got a cat so I could be responsible for something. So I wanted to stay. 

I still struggle with my mental health, because I want it to not hurt sometimes. Just to have things feel quieter. 

Growing up in the 90s being Arab wasn’t a fun time. The Gulf War, 9-11. I always knew being Arab “wasn’t ok”. When people would mistake me for Italian or Spanish I would just let it go and felt SO guilty. 

Then when my gender evolution started happening, I started to reclaim my place as an Arab, and learn more about my heritage. My birth father would use the word Palestinian refugee and I didn’t know what it meant growing up. He was one of the first rounds of people displaced to Jordan in the 1940s. The effect and impact the state of affairs has had on me is tremendous. 

I am always on the frontlines to fight for things I believe in, but this had me frozen. So many memories of how my dad was treated for who he was. How I was treated about our culture and foods. The day after 9-11 I couldn’t go to school, I had teachers using slurs with me and I was not safe. 

There aren’t a lot of us, or at least that I know, trans Palestinian Arabs. I am here. I exist. Your opinion doesn’t change that. THAT is why I choose to stay. To show people that you can exist in this world the way you are. By just being you.

The following is what Ever wanted to share post session in their own words: 

I’m here 
It’s about forgiveness. 
I know right? Cliche. 
Easier said than done. 
Simple and not very earth shattering. 
But maybe that’s the point. 
Maybe the same things that shattered our hearts shouldn’t be the same that mend them. 
I don’t know what it was in me to make such a clear decision at a young age. 
Maybe it was the idea of forgiveness. 
Truly and genuinely. 
Because it is possible to hurt and not hold on. 
To let go of those who hurt you and not harbor resentment. 
All that hurt that was thrown at me from the people who made me. The ones who are supposed to love and protect me. They are still just humans. Yeah, it sucked to realize that. Especially as a kid. 
But I think maybe thats what made it possible. 
To sever an old life from a new one. 

It’s possible to forgive and still not have them in your life. 
It’s possible to love life with a zest most call rare. 
A level of optimism that brings suspect. 
But when you’ve already been through the worst, it’s not that difficult to bear the rest with ease. 

It’s a choice. 

Just like a I chose on a few occasions to not be here anymore. 
To stop all the hurt that no one can see. 
Usually hiding behind a big smile. 

And each time, despite my desire to end it all, I remembered. 
There’s still a chance. 
And so I chose to separate myself and live a life I’m proud of. 

A proud first generation Palestinian. 
A bold queer trans human. 
And this human knows it’s possible because I’m here.
Telling my story. 

So decide. 
Choose. 
To stay. 

Closing Photographers Notes

At the risk of making this already lengthy post longer, it’s important I share an afterthought here. ALL of my sessions teach me things, and I want to do a better job of sharing those nuggets when I experience them. 

I want you to know that when I share here, I am not here as a photographer. These photos, like I have said before, are the afterthought and “proof of life”. I consider myself a journalist documenting and studying human emotion. Our tech and digital culture has made authentic emotion and connection hard to come by. It is my hope that through these images, you will remember where your empathy is stored, and learn to cultivate it. And ideally, remember to view the world through that lens as you move on with your day.

Watching the roots of my friend, twist and trail beneath them as they shared their story with me in this session, was such a reminder of our Blooms. It lit a fire under me around how we treat each other. Those around you; your friends, family and in your community. Do you know their stories? Every tendency, “quirk”, need or pain point of every person around us, comes from a root of their plant. Maybe, despite the risk of feeling a little bit of discomfort, we could begin sharing our roots with each other. If we did just a little bit, every day. Imagine the space that can be created with others, and within ourselves

Opening up and sharing these hard things, being vulnerable and letting go enough to let people in, I believe, creates empathy spaces that each person didn’t have before connecting. Everyone’s stories are unique, and within those stories we find the similarities and connections to our own roots. The moment we make those important connections, is when I believe we create the ability to give someone grace.  The empathy to meet people wherever they are emotionally, without judgement. 

Ever is one of the family members we called on when we experienced a mental health emergency this past winter. They were part of our community in those moments, and really bound together to create support for us. Sometimes it was dinner, sometimes a shoulder to cry on or company at a medical appointment. This human who had been so abandoned by the people responsible to care for them when they were young, was making sure that didn’t happen to anyone around them in their adult years. People’s roots, and the blooms that come from them will never cease to amaze me. Thank you Ever for being a Face in this project, and for trusting me with your roots, stems and blooms.