Our Story
This is going to be a long one...
Because for a long time, I was always searching for something and then I realized - I had to create it.
It's not just about handcrafted pieces.
It's about growing up feeling unimportant.
The quiet ache of not belonging.
And the courage to stand tall, when the voices keep telling you to let it go.
It's personal.
And it's the heart behind Our Origins.
The Beginning
When I was little, my parents and I were at an outdoor market.
I remember seeing a booth with dolls dressed in beautiful cultural clothes.
I really wanted one—so I quickly scanned the table, searching for one that would represent my culture...
but there was none.
This kept happening.
Toys, clothing, blankets... never anything with my culture.
So, eventually I asked:
“Why don’t they have one for us?”
I could tell my parents didn't know what to say.
They looked concerned and a bit sad.
After a long pause, my dad patted my head and said,
“They don’t make them... find something else.”
The Search
I didn’t get it at the time.
“I'm sure I'll find one. It’s got to be somewhere,” I thought.
So I kept searching whenever we went out...
Not here...
Oh that looks like it!
...Never mind, it’s not.
Time went by and before I knew it, the disappointment of not finding anything led me to
r.e.s.e.n.t. m.y. o.w.n. c.u.l.t.u.r.e.
They have other cultures, but not mine...
Maybe mine's not important enough.
Maybe we’re just going to disappear.
My foolish, negative thoughts got to me.
A Shift
Years later, I met my life partner and was introduced to their culture—
they had large festivals with long lines, people dressed up, music, dancing, and delicious food.
It was beautiful...
"It’s because theirs is beautiful... not mine,” I thought.
Then one day, a small festival for my culture was held.
Inside, I was super excited but told myself not to expect much.
I was used to being disappointed.
On the day of the event, I got there hours early and just sat in the parking lot.
Me excited? No I'm just here early.
The doors opened and I slowly walked in, repeating to myself:
"Don’t expect much… don’t expect much..."
And then—in the corner of the room—I saw it.
A tiny doll of my culture.
It was b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l.
My culture… beautiful?
Yes!
The Spark
It was the most precious thing I had gotten in years.
That’s when I realized the longing I had for cultural representation.
I wanted more!
So I searched the internet—looking everywhere, for anything.
But found nothing...
Are we really going to disappear?
We’re important too!
And at that moment, a small flame ignited in me.
I’ll make it happen then!
The Process
I started learning, crafting, and making a whole lot of mistakes.
Years of trial and error. Rooms filled with “not-perfect-enough” pieces.
Being a perfectionist is hard.
I began questioning my obsession:
"Why am I even doing this? Is this really that important to me?..."
Then slowly, in the midst of it all—
I started seeing pieces I was truly proud of.
I wore the necklace every day.
Slept in the blankets.
And carried the dolls to sleep.
(Yes, I’m an adult—but I’m a child at heart.)
I’d find myself admiring the pieces for hours...
It truly made me h.a.p.p.y.
It satisfied the deep longing that I had.
But I knew, deep down—
these pieces were meant to be shared.
The Voice Inside
Then the doubt came...
“Ah! Don’t share it! No one cares!
You’re just weird for your obsession!
Just l.e.t. i.t. g.o!”
I tried to...
My mind came up with every reason in the world to put an end to it...
but I couldn't.
Even when I stopped for a while and focused on other things,
I’d find myself staring at the pieces.
It was like I was drawn to them.
There was something peaceful about it... comforting, even.
But I struggled to share.
Even with close family, I felt too embarrassed by my obsession to talk about it.
I’d try—share a little here and there—but then I’d feel awkward, so I’d put it away again and stay quiet.
I just wasn’t ready.
It was a constant battle between the desire to let the world know…
and the voice that told me to let it go.
This happened again and again.
But still, deep, deep down—I knew these pieces were meant to be shared.
There was always that tiny whisper in the back of my mind:
We matter too.
My Why
Maybe the world won’t care.
And that’s okay.
At least now, it’s out there.
And if someone—just like me—is struggling to feel represented...
maybe this can be the sign they were waiting for.
Your culture matters.
It always has.
It always will.
And it deserves to be seen.