Through this photo series, I explore this deep-rooted introspective struggle. I use conceptual documentary and my own physical form to wrap my inner peace in visibly suffocating environments. The overwhelming disarray of social situations is compounded by communicating in a foreign language and navigating fundamental cultural differences. Language itself became a huge barrier when I began my life in America. Human beings everywhere thrive on social gatherings; they let us become part of something bigger than ourselves. Apparently, in America, if you want to be social, you have to be more expressive through spoken language. This contrasts sharply with the culture I grew up in; people from the Eastern part of the world tend not to be as outspoken. Add to this a constant lack of confidence in the primary language of my new home, and socializing became an ever-present source of anxiety. The more I tried to acclimatize, repeatedly forcing myself into these situations, the more of a wallflower I became.
When America's version of openness, in turn, actually isolated me, gradually retreating into quiet invisibility sometimes became the only way to survive the room. This is a shield I had never carried before. I'm driven by a deep desire for friendship and community, yet striving for those very things now drowns me into a pool of stress and strain.
Positioned at the edge of tension, I began photographing what truly matters to me: stories of self-love, confidence, and acceptance. Photography became my language. It invites others to witness the architecture of a state of mind.
What first felt like exile gradually became a process of reconstruction. When the paths we choose to experience the world become winding, we discover more hidden corners, while simultaneously giving ourselves more chances to bloom.