No brave person has ever regretted being brave

My father used to say that no one regrets being brave.

The other day, at a friend’s exhibition, I told his mother-in-law, a woman with incredible style,

“You look amazing. You always dress so well. If you’re not an artist, you should have been.”

She replied,

“Darling, I studied Fine Arts. But in my time, being an artist and being a woman was very complicated.”

And I stopped her.

With all the love in the world, but I stopped her.

“Victimhood? Not so much around here.” I said.

Because I understand the context. I understand things were difficult.But I also know what it’s like to paint while running from the police.To hide spray cans even from your parents.

To not only be given zero opportunities, but to be criminalized for trying.

We weren’t leaving Fine Arts school expecting a gallery.

We were running from the cops.

And still.

Here we are.

I’m not saying this to compare struggles.I’m saying it to remember something simple.

History has never been comfortable for anyone trying to do something different.

Not for women.

Not for immigrants sending money back home while trying to build something of their own.

Not for LGBTQ people who first had to learn how to survive before they could learn how to create.

Not for musicians working as waiters by day and rehearsing at night.

Not for producers making beats with cheap headphones in a shared bedroom.

Not for designers printing their first T-shirts with their supermarket salary.

Not for photographers shooting weddings to finance their personal projects.

Not for graffiti writers risking fines, records, and nights in a cell.

Not for those who had to explain to their families that this wasn’t just a phase.

The question is not whether the system makes it hard.

The question is this.

Will you be brave anyway?

If you don’t like your reality, the brave thing is to give everything you have to change it.

Not complain about it.

Not build an identity around it.Change it.

I don’t know if I deserve commercial success.I hope I do.

But if I do, then so do all the ones who painted at dawn,the ones rehearsing in garages,the ones designing in silence when nobody was watching.

I hope everyone finds their personal success.And if they want it, commercial success too.Not for money.

For freedom.

Because being able to dedicate your sixteen waking hours to your art is not ego.

It is love.

Love for looking at the world and giving something better back.Not violence.Not hate.

Not war.

Not division.

Connection.

If you’re going to complain, make it five minutes.

Then get back to work.

Because no brave person has ever regretted being brave.