About.

Ten years ago, my car was repossessed.

The same day, my daughter and I moved into a small two-bedroom apartment. She was 13 years old. Between us, we had two beds, some lawn furniture, and a determination to make the best of what we had.

I wish I could tell you I was fearless.

I wasn't.

I was scared. I was embarrassed. I was exhausted.

But I was also responsible for a little girl who was watching everything I did, and I knew that if I wanted her to believe she could overcome hard things, I had to show her what that looked like.

So I got up every day and kept going. I worked two jobs. I went back to school. I studied after work. I chased opportunities I wasn't sure I was qualified for. I asked questions when I felt out of place. I pushed through doors that weren't always open for me.

There were plenty of people who thought my goals were unrealistic. There were moments when I questioned myself, too. But I learned something during those years.

Most people give up long before they run out of potential.

I decided I wasn't going to be one of them.

Over time, life began to change. I earned my degree. I built a career that I am incredibly proud of. I created stability where there once was uncertainty. And somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying so much about whether I belonged in the room and started focusing on what I was going to do once I got there.

Today, I'm launching Raised Feral.

On the surface, Raised Feral is a lifestyle brand. We make hats with sayings that are a little bold, a little funny, and occasionally just the right amount of inappropriate. But the truth is, Raised Feral is about something much bigger than hats.

It's about the women who wear them. The women who don't take no for an answer. The women who ask one more question. The women who apply anyway. The women who start the business, take the trip, ask for the promotion, go back to school, leave the relationship, buy the house, change careers, or chase the dream everyone else told them was too big.

The women who keep going.

Those women have always been my people.

As I write this, very few people know this brand exists. I haven't made a big announcement. I haven't been talking about it publicly. In fact, almost no one around me knows I've been building Raised Feral.

Almost no one.

My daughter knows.

She's known from the beginning. She has been my biggest cheerleader through every late night, every idea, every logo revision, every moment of self-doubt, and every small win. Watching her become the woman she is today remains the accomplishment I am most proud of.

She believed in me before there was anything to believe in. I hope every parent gets to experience that kind of support from their child at least once in their life.

Raised Feral was built quietly. Just like most dreams are. Not with a spotlight. Not with a perfect plan. Just with faith, determination, and a willingness to keep moving forward when nobody is watching.

And that brings me to what matters most.

A portion of every purchase supports The Mention Fund. The Mention Fund exists for women who embody the same spirit that carried me through some of the hardest years of my life. Women with ambition. Women with grit. Women who refuse to let their circumstances have the final word.

My dream is that one day The Mention Fund will help women pay for certifications, professional licenses, education, business start-up costs, tools, equipment, and opportunities that move their lives forward. Not because they need someone to rescue them.

Because they deserve someone to believe in them.

The same way people believed in me when I needed it most.

If Raised Feral becomes successful, I hope its greatest impact isn't the hats we sell. I hope it's the doors we help open for other women.

Thank you for being here at the beginning. Thank you for believing that it's never too late to start over, start something new, or start dreaming bigger. And thank you for proving, every single day, that women are capable of far more than the world often expects of them.

We're just getting started.