A Renaissance Woman

Photography by: Bea Corona
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I’m writing to you from a future you can’t see yet; not from a mansion or some perfect life like you’re wishing for us, but from a place you built with your own hands, your own spirit, your own stubborn belief that you were meant for more.

I know where you are right now, lots of chaos, insecurities and trauma. Taking care of family members, trying to be strong for everyone around you. Going through experiences a child isn’t supposed to face. Growing up before you’re done being a child. All while walking through it pretending you’re fine.

You were delusional enough to think you were destined for something bigger because that was the only way to survive. And let me tell you; that delusion is your superpower and you were right.

One day, you will grow into a woman who creates her own world -literally.
Not the world you were born into, not the one that failed to protect you, but one you imagined out of thin air. A world where women come together and somehow feel less alone.

A world you would have needed so badly at your age.

That world is called isla.

You didn’t create it just because you loved nails. You created it because you loved freedom.
Because you wanted to work with women. Because you were tired of compromising, tired of asking for permission. Because you wanted to build something where women didn’t have to shrink themselves to be respected.

Berlin… oh girl, you’re going to hate it and love it. And because it never felt like home, you went and created your own; a bubble inside a cold city; your own warmth, your own universe.

That’s what culture is to you: an invisible thread between people who should have never met, but somehow end up belonging to each other. You weave those threads without even trying. You connect women in Berlin, in other cities, even in countries you haven’t been to yet.

And then…you become a mother. I know you never imagined what that would feel like.
You always thought motherhood was something for “other women,” the ones with stable childhoods, pretty houses, consistent parents.

But becoming Ace’s mum changes everything. It brings peace to places inside you that you were convinced were broken forever. It softens you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

It forces you to unpack everything you hid, everything you pushed down, everything you locked away so you could survive.

You find yourself healing through him. Oh so cliché but motherhood becomes your mirror and your medicine. It’s the thing that finally lets you accept being a woman, to stand in your feminine, your softness, your intuition. To realize you don’t have to be the baddest all the time; you can be strong and soft at once.

Nothing will prepare you for motherhood, but it comes in divine timing -not when you’re “ready,” but when you’re becoming who you were always meant to be.

And yes, balancing entrepreneurship and motherhood will be the hardest thing you ever do.

But it will also be the most beautiful. Because your son will grow up watching his mother build a life out of nothing but creativity and vision. He will know what a strong woman looks like, not because she pretends to have it all together, but because she doesn’t give up.