Welcome

I grew up in Eastern Montana, where wide-open spaces teach you strength early—and where silence can become its own kind of weight. I learned young how easy it is for uncomfortable truths to be buried, and how much courage it takes to dig them back up.
I am a disability-rights advocate, shaped by both lived experience and years spent navigating systems that were never built with real people in mind. I am also a survivor of childhood sexual assault. That truth lives with me—not as an identity, but as a responsibility. To speak when others cannot. To question what was ignored. To demand better for the children who come after us.
This blog is where research meets lived reality. I read the records others won’t. I ask the questions that make institutions uneasy. I care deeply about investigative journalism, not for exposure or outrage, but because truth matters—especially when it has been hidden, minimized, or dismissed. Politics lives here too, because policy is not abstract. It touches bodies, families, safety, disability services, and justice in real and permanent ways.
I am married and the mother of two beautiful children. They are my compass. Every word I write is shaped by the kind of world I want them to inherit—one where accessibility is a right, not a favor; where survivors are believed; where transparency is expected; where accountability is not optional.
This space exists to educate, to provide resources, and to pull back the curtain on systems that rely on silence to survive. It is for survivors, for advocates, for parents, for the disabled community, and for anyone willing to sit with uncomfortable truth in the name of real change.
I don’t write to be palatable.
I write because truth deserves a voice.