I often convince myself that I don’t have a right to address my upbringing and the way that the hard parts of my childhood made me feel—which was panicked, exposed, and excluded. The work I’ve done with War Child, incarcerated people, and even the friendship I have with Jenny Hopper has given me tremendous perspective. But as I’ve learned to empathize and cope with the injustice and pain in the world, I have learned to ignore my own because it feels less and less important. I have often felt ashamed of my own internal struggle.
