Beyond Blood is a deeply personal story about family, identity, and the messy truths we don’t often talk about. Growing up, my relationship with my biological mother, Erma, was complicated. Her struggle with addiction meant she couldn’t raise me, and there were always questions about where I came from—questions we never really addressed. I didn’t know my father. He was simply absent and unknown, someone we never talked about.

I had a complicated childhood, being raised by my aunt in foster care. When most people think of foster care, they think of abuse, neglect, or moving from home to home. I had it better than many, but being raised by my resentful aunt brought its own challenges. I often felt guilty for struggling because my situation didn’t seem as bad as others’. Still, the emotional toll of those years shaped me deeply.

Writing—whether it was journaling or poetry—became my lifeline. It gave me the voice I wished I had when I was younger, at a time when I didn’t know how to cope. That silence and confusion led to deep depression and even suicidal thoughts. My early years with my given family weren’t much help; no one talked about anything serious, and I felt like I was carrying the weight alone. I needed help sooner, but over time, I’ve found my strength.

Now, I’m surrounded by a tribe that is full of love and support, but mental and emotional struggles are still part of my life. My pain has given me so much to write about, and creating has become my way of making sense of it all. It’s also given me purpose—a reason to keep going, even when things feel heavy.

Visually, I want Beyond Blood to feel raw and intimate, like you’re sitting in the room with us. This isn’t a polished story—it’s real life, with all its complications and contradictions. My goal is to create something that feels authentic and relatable, especially for people who’ve dealt with addiction in their families or struggled with their sense of identity.

At its core, this film is about connection—what we lose, what we find, and what we make for ourselves along the way. My hope is that it sparks conversations about forgiveness, resilience, and the different ways we define family.