UNBROKEN
These women are imagined — and yet I have met every one of them.
They are painted in charcoal, ink, pastel and mixed media, each on paper, each in her own language. Some stand. Some move. Some are still. All of them are naked and none of them are ashamed.
When I first began painting the female nude, men told me I had no shame. Others assumed that a woman who paints naked bodies must herself be easy, promiscuous — available. Some asked for my phone number. Women whispered that they loved the work but would not say so publicly — not where the men could see.
I did not respond to any of them. I simply kept painting and kept posting.
Until eventually two journalists in the Arab world came to interview me about the work.
That response — the silence of men who expected shame, the whispers of women who felt seen, and finally the recognition that arrives when you refuse to stop — told me everything I needed to know about why these paintings had to exist.
The female body is not shameful. It is not sinful. It is not the cause of sin. It does not invite attack. It does not limit the woman who lives in it. It is not responsible for what men do or do not do. These are not radical ideas — they are simply true. And yet women are still told, every day, in every language, that their bodies are the problem.
Unbroken is my answer to that.
These women are not broken by what has been said about them, done to them, taken from them. They are not performing resilience for anyone's comfort. They are simply — and completely — themselves. Surviving. And beyond that, thriving. Taking up space. Refusing the story that was written for them before they were born.
I am not calling on women to go naked in the streets. I am calling on the world to stop using women's bodies as the justification for everything that is done against them.
Many works from this collection have already found homes with collectors across Europe.
Charcoal, ink, pastel and mixed media on paper. Each piece is unique.
They are painted in charcoal, ink, pastel and mixed media, each on paper, each in her own language. Some stand. Some move. Some are still. All of them are naked and none of them are ashamed.
When I first began painting the female nude, men told me I had no shame. Others assumed that a woman who paints naked bodies must herself be easy, promiscuous — available. Some asked for my phone number. Women whispered that they loved the work but would not say so publicly — not where the men could see.
I did not respond to any of them. I simply kept painting and kept posting.
Until eventually two journalists in the Arab world came to interview me about the work.
That response — the silence of men who expected shame, the whispers of women who felt seen, and finally the recognition that arrives when you refuse to stop — told me everything I needed to know about why these paintings had to exist.
The female body is not shameful. It is not sinful. It is not the cause of sin. It does not invite attack. It does not limit the woman who lives in it. It is not responsible for what men do or do not do. These are not radical ideas — they are simply true. And yet women are still told, every day, in every language, that their bodies are the problem.
Unbroken is my answer to that.
These women are not broken by what has been said about them, done to them, taken from them. They are not performing resilience for anyone's comfort. They are simply — and completely — themselves. Surviving. And beyond that, thriving. Taking up space. Refusing the story that was written for them before they were born.
I am not calling on women to go naked in the streets. I am calling on the world to stop using women's bodies as the justification for everything that is done against them.
Many works from this collection have already found homes with collectors across Europe.
Charcoal, ink, pastel and mixed media on paper. Each piece is unique.
