Where softness remembers.
Raised by 1912 is where legacy meets healing — a space to slow down, reflect, and remember what truly matters.
These are the stories, letters, and lessons that shaped me — and maybe, they’ll speak to a part of you too.
The Year Everything Began
My grandmother was born in 1912 — a year that feels like another world, yet her lessons still live in everything I do. My grandmother was born in 1912 — a year that feels like another world, yet her lessons still live in everything I do.
Legacy Woven Through Time
She didn’t leave behind wealth or photographs in silver frames.
She left recipes scribbled on index cards, quilts patched from old dresses, and sayings that shaped my soul.
She taught me that elegance isn’t about appearance — it’s about how you carry pain, faith, and grace all at once.
Her life became my compass.
Every act of kindness, every quiet moment of strength, was her way of saying:
“You come from good stock.”
Becoming Still
I built Raised by 1912 to honor her — and to remind myself that softness isn’t something we find by accident.
It’s a discipline, a return to the self after years of surviving.
This space is where I practice that stillness — where I turn memory into art, and pain into wisdom.
Each story, each letter, is a way to speak to the women who came before me and the ones who will come after.
To tell them: We are still becoming. And we are still enough.
What You’ll Find Here
Letters to Little Me: reflections to heal the girl I once was.
Becoming Still: essays on growth, healing, and faith.
Legacy & Lineage: stories about the women who shaped generations.
This isn’t just my story — it’s an inheritance of hope.
A reminder that everything we survive becomes something sacred.
If you’ve ever felt like you had to be strong for too long — you belong here.
If you’re learning how to soften again, or searching for meaning in your roots — you belong here too.
Because no matter how far we go, we’re all just finding our way back home.
And home, for me, begins with 1912.
Letters to Little Me
Each letter is a conversation between the woman I am and the girl I once was.
They are reminders that softness, after all, is something we learn — and unlearn — over a lifetime.
Becoming Still
In the in-between moments — the pauses, the prayers, the quiet mornings — we find the strength our mothers carried for us.
These reflections explore healing, identity, and the art of becoming.
The Hands That Raised Me
My grandmother was born in 1912.
She didn’t have much, but what she did have — faith, wisdom, and her hands — became the foundation of everything I know.
This isn’t just my story. It’s a story about legacy, womanhood, and learning to be still.
Say Hello
Share your story, or simply let me know what Raised by 1912 means to you.
Your message will go straight to my inbox, and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
Thank you for taking the time to write — your words matter more than you know.