The Imako Teeth story
The Imako Teeth Story: From Mask to Mirror
Years ago, I carried something called Imako teeth. It was a joke — a little plastic cover I’d slip over my teeth. I traded them with people, laughed about them, gave them away. But if I’m honest, they were part of me.
I wore them to an event at Michelle Obama’s because, back then, I wasn’t yet confident in myself. I was hiding. I was still growing. I was using a mask to get through rooms I didn’t believe I belonged in.
I talk about that today because that’s what growth looks like. We start where we are — unpolished, unsure, maybe even using props to feel brave.
And I’ve learned something about image since then. There’s a difference between a quick, unpolished selfie and a professional image that gives you credibility. I’ve worked with photographers — the bad and the good. I’ve been in shoots where I felt unseen, and shoots where someone finally captured me.
That journey is all over my Instagram page. If you scroll back, you’ll see the silent tears. The versions of me that people from California, or from other parts of the world, don’t get to see up close anymore. They remember the girl with Imako teeth. They don’t know the woman who learned to look within, who found her voice, who speaks at the state office today.
I don’t wear those teeth anymore. Not because I’m perfect — but because I’m present. I’m confident. I’m no longer asking permission to take up space.
Your story isn’t your shame. It’s your strength.
The mask you used to survive can become the testimony you use to lead.
And that’s why I’m here. Not as the girl who hid. But as the woman who grew.
