The blood red on the soles of my pumps once revealed the blood on my hands – stains the polluted rivers of right now can never wash away. I first glimpsed these rivers by photograph, far from their origin, at MAGIC in Las Vegas – the world’s largest fashion trade show. I was wide-eyed, scouting trends and designers for my fashion week, still unaware that my love affair with fashion had already been sacrificed at the altar of unchecked growth.

As I wandered through POOL, just one massive corner of MAGIC, I stumbled upon a sign for what felt like a sermon on fashion’s ecological impact. I sat down, intrigued. What I learned hit me hard – like revolution.

The Prius as a status symbol? That was us. Rivers dyed Pantone’s color of the year? Us, again. I was complicit, and that realization set my heart on fire.

That spark hasn’t gone out.

As an insufferable romantic, I’ve always been drawn to revolutions and redemption arcs – especially when laced with color palettes and unspoken language. But what began as a personal reckoning quickly expanded. The world’s need for transformation mirrored my own. My time in Santa Fe has taught me this: environmental and social change cannot be separated. They’re both rooted in justice.

Living with disability, chronic illness, and homelessness has deepened my understanding of resilience. I no longer recklessly bound toward progress; instead, I move through the world differently. I embrace slower, more intentional rhythms—modes of being that amplify my desire for a world where “progress” doesn’t come at someone else’s cost.

This is no longer a personal journey – it’s a collective reckoning. Individual and global shifts reflect each other, revealing a new urgency: we must approach sustainability holistically, recognizing its intersections with privilege, identity, and social equity.

This urgency has defined my work in Santa Fe, where I’ve engaged with community initiatives in sustainability, disability justice, and mutual aid. These efforts taught me that change is not linear. It is messy, imperfect, and deeply human—just like my own journey. But this is precisely where real transformation lives: in the tension between discomfort and possibility.

Prescott’s bioregional and field-based approach is a lighthouse for thinkers craving spaces of intellectual rigor and creative disruption. These rapidly shifting times demand more than institutional traditions; they demand conscious debate, messy dreaming, and unapologetic reimagination. As ancient wisdom once said: “Order with no cause is like nuclear degeneration.” And I’d argue that tradition with no evolution is equally unsustainable.

The fashion industry has long been a flashpoint for this debate. Canary-whisperer Li Edelkoort once declared “fashion is dead” in her viral manifesto—but ended it with “long live clothing.” That paradox opened something in me.

At POOL, I saw images of Indigenous communities bathing near rivers stained by the most coveted color of the season—dyes demanded by fashion houses and forecasted across every creative sector. It doesn’t take a trained ecologist to see how these sins ripple through delicate ecosystems. And it only takes a shred of honesty to know the system wasn’t broken. It was built this way.

I’ve had the heartbreak—and privilege—of starting over. I now reside in Santa Fe, where I engage in work rooted in interdependence. My independence relies on systems of mutual care. And here, at “The Roundhouse,” our state capitol, I’ve seen firsthand the power of integrating policy with lived experience—especially in this “city different,” where ancestral wisdom, social innovation, and ecological systems converge.

My own history here is layered. I helped birth a fashion week that once had momentum and the spotlight, only to watch it unravel under the weight of burnout, personal loss, and uncomfortable truths. That unraveling – like as in compost – was necessary. It’s how I became. The principles I once spoke about – accessibility, sustainability, community—are now carved into my bones. I no longer say them. I live them.

COVID reshaped all of us. For me, it complicated a rare genetic illness and ushered me into a new relationship with my body, my pace, and my priorities. I grieved the loss of a healthy identity—but in that grief, a universe opened. One I’m ready to explore.

During the pandemic, my intellectual scaffolding solidified. I joined the ADA Advisory Council in Albuquerque, where I worked at the intersection of disability justice and design. I began to see care not simply as an ethic but further as a design principle. Imagine UX design applied to cities, economies, fashion systems, and policy. Imagine systems designed to sustain life rather than exploit it. This is where sustainability shifts—from ecological imperative to social necessity.

This hunger for reimagination brings me to Prescott. On a trusted recommendation, I sought a place where complexity is not feared, and messy, hopeful revolutions are encouraged. On those lips, I lay justice and safety in a dark world – to throw the monopoly board and begin again-again.

Prescott’s program isn’t a stepping stone. It is a continuation of a lifelong inquiry—one that began on the MAGIC trade floor and now straddles the thin gray margins between conventional academia and embodied knowledge.

At Prescott, I intend to focus on the ways our individual ontologies affect and are affected by various social structures and fully commit to sustainability, social justice, and environmental systems. I want to explore bioregional manufacturing models, circular systems, and the ecological impact of production infrastructure globally. I believe there’s untapped potential in reimagining accessibility not only as a legal obligation but as an ecological act—where sustainable materials, ethical design, and systemic inclusion become tools for healing. My action-based research will center marginalized voices and co-create solutions with communities often left out of institutional conversations.

Though my path has been unconventional, it has been deeply rigorous. I’ve led creative teams, coordinated large-scale productions, written grants, and facilitated grassroots workshops. I’ve spoken in policy forums and organized mutual aid. Each of these required critical thinking, systems literacy, and leadership. I now bring this toolkit to formal scholarship with fierce dedication.

I’m intellectually hungry. I’m driven. I’m ready.

Prescott, I believe, is the place where this next transformation can bloom.

References

Edelkoort, L. (2015). Anti_Fashion: A manifesto for the next decade. Trend Union. https://www.trendtablet.com/15058-anti_fashion/

MAGIC Las Vegas. (n.d.). Fashion trade shows & marketplace. Retrieved April 4, 2025, from https://www.magicfashionevents.com/

Prescott College. (n.d.). M.S. in Environmental Studies and Sustainability. Retrieved April 4, 2025, from https://www.prescott.edu/graduate/master-of-science/environmental-studies-and-sustainability

U.S. Department of Justice. (2020). Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) Standards. https://www.ada.gov/