Hi, I'm Amber

Hi, I’m Amber; and I promised you an introduction. I’m struggling with this intro because my ego tells me that you, the readers, wish to know me in the context of my past: rather than having me introduce myself as who I am as a person.

But I have learned that our egos (for the most part) do not always have our best interests at heart. At least the untrained ego is this way, and I am humble enough to admit that mine is not yet fully in check. (We’re working on it.)

My name is Amber. I was born in Washington D.C. to young parents: my mother was just 28 years old when she had me. My father, a young physician, helped deliver me and he was the one who tied my umbilical cord.

I don’t know when the shift started, or why it was my fate, but though I often chose to remember my childhood and adolescence through a rose tint, I find it much easier to address the reality of things then, now: I grew up in an abusive home. The emotional abandonment has left its scars deeper than the bruises ever could.

I find reprieve in that it is not our past that defines us - and I would dare to venture so far as to say that it’s not our actions either - but rather it is our intentions, willingness to evolve, and our impacts, that cast their shadows both ahead of and behind our legacies.

I am a happy person who is prone to a strong sense of justice. I crave education and clarity, and I love art. I am comfortable existing in a world of contrasts and contradictions because I grew up in one. I have made peace with it because I feel that it keeps me both aspirational and humble.

I first made a name for myself on MySpace. I had a blog which I often updated as an online journal, wrote poetry, and shared random snippets of my life. When readers and subscribers asked for my phone number, I kindly asked that they reach out after 9pm, when my unlimited minutes kicked in. I didn’t think it strange to speak with strangers for hours about poetry, or their boyfriends, or family troubles.

After university I landed two dream internships: one in fashion pr, and the other with a museum curator. Again I sought to document my life online: I shared outfits, and projects, and manicures. I studied and idolized people like Rumi Neely, and when she claimed to have thrifted a black Chanel backpack I started combing through my local thrift stores too.

Then in 2013 my life took a hit: literally. I was struck as a pedestrian in a crosswalk by a teenager driving a sedan. The strangest thing about this was that I had been on edge for weeks - constantly feeling like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, like there was a live wire of electricity that was going to burst through me at any moment. My life changed after that.

In 2015 I learned how to make revenue from A*Mused: not shoe money, but rent money. Trips to Paris money. And five years later it became quit your job and go full time money. I had finally hit consistent 5-figures and was ready to take the leap.

By the spring of 2021 I was used to seeing myself in print: my local newspaper published my name frequently - and eventually I found the distance of publications farther and farther from home. I was attending New York and Paris fashion weeks by invitation.

In May of that same year it would end.

And in the following years I would find myself frozen, not knowing how or if I should ever return to a platform to write again.

But that is another thing that I am: resilient. Persistent.

And here I am again. Learning how to start over. Learning how to trust my own voice, and understanding how I wish to move and exist in the world of content creation. I know how to repeat what I once had; but truth be told I’m not sure if I want that quite yet. What I want is to create, to write, and to feel a sense of pride in both of those things.

I am excited to have you here.
It’s nice to meet you.
And I look forward to seeing you with the next post.

Amber.

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