Everyone Belongs: Why I Just Am Studio Exists

Thirty-six years ago, I became a mother for the first time.

Our daughter Sarah arrived early, tiny, and absolutely beautiful. Like every new parent, I dreamed about the life ahead for her. I imagined birthday parties, school plays, friendships, first jobs, and all the milestones that make up a meaningful life.

I didn’t know then that Sarah would become one of my greatest teachers.

Sarah is smart, creative, determined, funny, and deeply compassionate. She loves music, art, animals, family traditions, and celebrating the people she loves. She has dreams and goals, strengths and challenges—just like her sisters, Rachel and Julia.

But Sarah’s story began a little differently.

She was born prematurely with several medical complications. I still remember sitting in the neonatal intensive care unit when her doctor told us she had Down syndrome.

In that moment, my mind traveled back to my own high school years.

I remembered the students with Down syndrome and other disabilities who attended my school. They learned in a separate wing of the building. They weren’t in my classes, on my bus, in my clubs, or at the lunch table.

I didn’t know them.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because our world had never given us the opportunity to know one another.

Then suddenly, everything changed.

Before I had time to understand what a diagnosis of  Down syndrome might mean, I simply needed to care for this tiny little girl who I already loved with every part of my heart.

Looking back now, I realize that the hardest part wasn’t Sarah’s diagnosis.

It was the label.

Not because it changed who Sarah was.

She was still the same beautiful baby I had fallen in love with only moments before.

The label changed the way the world expected me to see her.

Over time, I realized something important.

Sarah wasn’t limited nearly as much by Down syndrome as she was by other people’s assumptions.

People often saw a diagnosis before they saw a person.

They noticed what she might not do before discovering everything she could do.

And that’s where my own journey began.

As a psychologist, I’ve always been curious about why people think the way they do. Why do we create barriers for people who simply want the same things we all want? Why do we separate people instead of bringing them together? Why, even with the best intentions, do we so often underestimate one another?

Sarah helped me discover that disability isn’t simply about a person’s abilities.

It’s also about the environments we create.

When we design schools, workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities without thinking about everyone, we unintentionally create barriers.

But when we begin with belonging, something remarkable happens.

People flourish.

Over the years, Sarah continued to teach me lessons I never expected.

She taught me to slow down.

To celebrate progress instead of perfection.

To notice people’s gifts before their challenges.

To replace assumptions with curiosity.

Most of all, she taught me that every person wants to be known, valued, and included.

Not because they have earned it.

Simply because they are human.

Those lessons became the foundation for everything that followed.

Years later, together with an incredible group of families, friends, advocates, and community partners, we began imagining a different kind of community. One where people with and without disabilities learned together, worked together, created together, and built genuine relationships.

That dream has taken many forms over the years.

It has led to meaningful employment for adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

It has inspired new approaches to supporting independent lives.

And ultimately, it led to the creation of I Just Am Studio.

People often ask why we chose that name.

The answer is simple.

Because before we are artists…

before we are employees…

before we are neighbors…

before we are people with disabilities…

we are people.

We don’t have to earn our worth.

We don’t have to prove we belong.

We don’t have to become someone else to be accepted.

We just are.

At I Just Am Studio, art is the tool.

Belonging is the purpose.

Every day I watch children, teens, adults, families, volunteers, artists, and neighbors gather around tables covered with clay, paint, paper, printmaking ink, and conversation.

Something beautiful happens around those tables.

People stop comparing.

They start creating.

Labels begin to fade.

Friendships begin to grow.

A child discovers confidence.

An adult discovers purpose.

A volunteer discovers a new perspective.

Someone walks through our doors for the first time feeling uncertain—and leaves feeling like they belong.

That is why this studio exists.

Not simply to make beautiful art.

But to build beautiful communities.

Sarah is still one of my greatest teacher.

She reminds me every day that every person has something meaningful to contribute.

That everyone deserves to be seen before they are judged.

That love doesn’t ask people to fit into a box.

Love makes room.

Love welcomes.

Love believes in possibility.

Love has no labels.

My hope is that when you visit I Just Am Studio, you’ll experience more than a creative space.

I hope you’ll find a place where you can be fully yourself.

Where differences are celebrated.

Where creativity builds connection.

Where everyone has something to teach and something to learn.

Because belonging isn’t something we give to people.

It’s something we create together.

And there’s always room for one more at the table.