I grew up as the first-born child of Mexican immigrants, carrying both pride and pressure in equal measure. At home, everything was rooted in sacrifice, tradition, and the quiet understanding that I was meant to build something bigger from what my parents started.

But as a Gen Z kid, I also found my own language early on through art. Drawing wasn’t just a hobby. It was how I made sense of who I was, blending the stories I inherited with the world I was growing into.

Over time, that love naturally expanded into an appreciation for tattoo culture the way it turns identity, memory, and rebellion into something permanent and visible.

To me, tattoos feel like an extension of the same instinct I had as a kid with a pencil in hand: to create, to express, and to leave a mark that says, “I was here, and this is my story.”