I’ll Be The Roots, You Be The Tree
Nicole Schultz Dunham, ACD of adidas North America Brand Design and OLIVER Agency, reflects on the relationships that have grown her career through the women who’ve inspired her.
If you feel insignificant, you better think again
Better wake up because you’re part of something way bigger
Another International Women’s Day has come and gone, and I find myself reflecting on how it was celebrated, and what this day actually means to me. A day when more than half the global population gets celebrated for being born with a vagina or for identifying as a woman (If only it were that simple).
For me, IWD has become a day to ruminate on what it means to be a woman, to be raised by womxn, and to graciously thank all the womxn who’ve paved the way before me. It is also a day to acknowledge just how far we have yet to go before we reach true equality — as several brands were quick to point out.
Like many women, I perused instagram on March 8th, reposting and sharing anything that caught my eye to my ever-growing stories feed (it really is such a brilliant way of expressing your thoughts without needing to go to the lengths of actually creating the content yourself!). There was a ton of content surrounding Oprah’s bombshell interview with Megan Markle and Prince Harry (if you are caught up on The Crown it wasn’t all that surprising, as terrible and sad as their experience was). Paper Journal Mag posted some gorgeous nude photography of older, incredible women. Adweek posted a smart campaign by a flower company visually illustrating just how far we are from equality. Some graphic designers made fun of the repetitive nature of the typographic posts from brands celebrating womxn in trendy Girls-esque color palettes.
Most brands felt like they had to say something. We’re celebrating more than half the population for god’s sakes! Say SOMETHING.
But what does it mean to truly celebrate International Women’s Day? For me, it means giving myself a chance to reflect.
Of course I immediately think of the women who raised me; who birthed me into being. My mother. My grandmothers and my grandmothers before them. My aunties, my sisters, my sisters-in-law. My “Second Moms” as I like to call them — the mothers of my best friends growing up — who watched over my sister and me time and again as our parents shared childcare duties. My mother-in-law who, believe it or not, had a heavy hand in raising me, given she was my ballet teacher throughout my childhood beginning at 5 years of age.
Then I think of the incredible teachers I had. Dee Meyers, my kindergarten teacher who instilled creative thinking and storytelling at such a young age. Mrs. Morrow, who instilled the value of the creative arts. My dance studio director — Ms. Nancy Yeamans.
Ms. Nancy runs Portland Metro Arts, a non-profit organization with a clear mission to provide an invaluable arts education to any and every student, irregardless of race, gender, income level, age or sexual orientation. It is a safe haven in the community. And I grew up dancing Russian ballet, modern and jazz under her leadership. I danced full-length ballets alongside a beautiful girl with Downs Syndrome, who would later become my sister-in-law.
And then I think of my professional education. I went to school at the University of Oregon. I decided upon U of O after a lengthy tour through a TON of California schools, none of which felt like home. University of Oregon felt like home. And they offered an Advertising major within the School of Journalism and Communications — and making commercials was pretty cool, I guess. (I also had a lot of opinions about every single spot that would come on air, so my mother turned to me and said: “If you’re so critical of these commercials why don’t you try and learn to make them better?” She’s very smart.)
I immediately declared my major, which would eventually form into a double major in Advertising and Magazine, with a minor in Digital Arts. I got a student job at the J School admin office, sorting mail for the professors and greeting them when they came in for the day. I quickly formed a list of whose classes I ought to take. I worked hard in my 101 classes, but became frustrated when they were so generalized. Teach me how to make commercials, goddamnit!
And then I met Deb. Deborah Morrison is fierce. She’s as fierce as they come. She had just moved to Eugene the year prior, hailing from Austin and UT lore. Deb is fiercely passionate about these things (they may be in order): her family; the Earth and its well-being; her students; the power of strategic, empathetic creativity to provide art for commerce; making advertising suck less and encouraging companies and people to give a damn. She believes creativity is innate in every living soul, you just need to help find what lights them up. She also believes creativity will change the world. It is up to us to harness it into being.
The second I met her, I knew she’d change my life.
So I began attending guest lectures, sitting in the back of giant halls as the juniors and seniors gathered in the front rows. Writing notes and documenting what I needed to do to make this my career, then scurrying out before any seniors could see me. But I caught Deb’s eye. She convinced the student-run agency Allen Hall Advertising to let me join (you had to apply at that time, and I hadn’t gotten in after my first application). She invited me to be a part of her Creative Strategy class as a sophomore. She took me to New York (along with dozens of other students) and got me into portfolio reviews and meetings all over the city. She would eventually get me my internship at DDB in San Francisco where I was hired as a Jr. Art Director and worked for 4 and a half years. (On our first day the interns were introduced to the ECD at the time, Lisa Bennett, who’s first words out of her mouth were “Ok who was Deb’s student?!” She was Deb’s TA at UT.)
Under Deb’s leadership, she changed every life she encountered. Who wouldn’t want to make it their mission to challenge and change Corporate America for the better?! They had no clue about the army Deb was building in little Eugene, Oregon.
And the little, mighty army had no idea what they were truly up against. I got my first taste of advertising reality during my junior year, on our school trip to New York.
Each year, Deb and several other professors would haul 60–100 students to the Big Apple for The One Show, and arrange for agency tours, award show dinners, and meet-and-greets with advertising’s “finest”.
After the first night of the festival, I immediately noticed how chic everyone was dressed. My college attire from Forever 21 wasn’t cutting it. I also noticed that the attractive female students got a LOT of attention from the male professionals in the room. Hmmm.
I went out the next morning before the agency tours and took myself shopping at H&M — much more glam. I bought a cheap outfit that showed off my college figure and wore that for our meet-and-greet happy hour in Times Square. Sure enough, it was much easier to get a guy to talk to me. But as I was explaining what a “Creative Strategist” was to a copywriter from Seattle, I couldn’t help but notice him peeking down my top every chance he got. The conversation concluded with discussions of a Summer Internship, and I thought it was all worth it. I never heard from him again.
I returned to campus and overheard several male and female seniors expressing their indignation at my excitement for my (fruitless) internship offer (and probably my technique for getting what I wanted). Hmmm.
The market crashed that year. Jobs were extremely hard to come by. While I had enough credits to graduate early, I stayed my senior year and worked on my book. Everything became even more cut throat. Internship offers went nowhere. By the time I had graduated, I had an award for excellence in art direction, I had my diploma, and I had my boyfriend in Portland. I moved back in with my parents, did freelance projects here and there, and applied over and over and over for any and every opportunity.
Six depressing months later I saw Lauren Ranke tweet that Wieden + Kennedy was looking for their next batch of interns. What the hell did I have to lose? I emailed her a link to my book and went on my way. Five days later I got a call I’d never forget. It was Lauren, offering me an art direction internship. No interview needed, just start after the holidays. I got off the phone, told my boyfriend to pull over, and then screamed and cried and danced around the car. He was confused. I had never been so elated.
I interned at W+K for three months, along with three others. I was the only woman. The other art director intern was a black man in his 30’s. The other two were white male copywriter interns. They were all gems.
The first day, we nervously found our desks in the most awkward location known to man, took a tour of their gorgeous Portland headquarters (the Portlandia episode comes to mind) and Lauren took us out to a fancy lunch downstairs (RIP Bluehour). I’ll never forget her advice: get to know as many people as you can here. They will change your life.
There were exactly 20 female creatives in the creative department of exactly 100 creatives. People were generally nice and welcoming, though busy. We got briefed on dream projects with dream clients. W+K had just launched the “Man Your Man Could Smell Like” campaign for Old Spice, and it was Andy’s and my job to think of what could come next. Our idea won over another full-time, mid-level team’s.
I lusted after the Levi’s account and I finally got a brief to think through a magic mirror in their retail flagship store. The other art director intern was annoyed that I got the assignment “because I was a woman” and I couldn’t help but think “yeah but you get ALL the Nike briefs because you’re a black dude.”
Neither of us were hired at the end of the day. They hired the two cis white copywriters (who still work there, are extremely talented and whom I love to this day).
I’ll never forget when Lauren sat me down and delivered the news. I wasn’t conceptual enough. And the thing was, I agreed with her. I felt like Wieden was a place you end up, not necessarily a place you start. She just looked at me and said, “Please never lose your humbleness. That will set you apart in this industry.”
- Mitch McConnell
I went on to move to San Francisco 3 months later for an internship at DDB. At the time, DDB SF was led entirely by women. Mary Moudry was our President. Rebecca Hines was head of accounts. Lisa Bennett our ECD.
Lisa had gathered a team of intentional creatives, working mostly on CPG (DDB SF was founded almost entirely because of the Clorox account, headquartered in Oakland). It was extremely “traditional” (Tribal DDB was still a separate agency at the time, and the offices were connected by a staircase and not much else). While interning, I pulled my first all-nighter on a pitch for STP motor oil. I had come up with the concept while shooting the shit with my writing partner Billy Leyhe. He saw the potential and wrote some killer spots along with our CD Jim Bosiljevac. The spots they wrote gave me chills. We won the pitch, and the client wanted to buy the very spots we pitched to them. That never happens.
Billy and I flew out with the team to North Carolina and I got to art direct my first broadcast commercial when I was a 22 year old intern. I was making $15 an hour in San Francisco and having the time of my life. I flew down to LA to work with a legendary colorist in his fancy edit bay. My CD couldn’t come, so it was up to me and my producer and my editor to make the final call. I was the only woman in the room, but I was nerding out. Until the colorist turned to me and said “Now what is a girl like you doing, working on a spot like this?” All I could do was shrug and laugh it off, but inside I told him “Maybe because I came up with the fucking idea!”
Little did he know that my dad took me to the Historic Races at Portland International Raceway every year for Father’s Day. Little did he know that I had been to every car show and drive-in during the Portland summers while my dad coached me on what defined the make, model and year of a classic car. Little did he know that I grew up watching Nascar with my dad every Sunday, my mom demanding we turn the damn TV down. Little did he know that my dad was the biggest Richard Petty fan, and when I got to meet him during the STP shoot I asked him to sign a poster that still hangs in my parents’ basement. The nerve.
Lisa Bennett hired Nikki Baker shortly after I was hired (her creative partner at the time, Travis Parr, worked out of the Chicago office). Leslie Shaffer freelanced as an ACD and was quickly hired when her contract was up. The two of them became my mentors. They were (and are) brilliant, funny, empathetic, strong, decisive creatives. And when they worked together: fireworks. They sold in spot after spot, campaign after campaign. I traveled with them for over a month, bouncing between Austin and New York and LA to produce multiple campaigns for ConAgra that they sold in, with the help of our brilliant account lead Kristin Barbour. They took me to the finest restaurants like The Spotted Pig and taught me what burrata was (I’m still obsessed).
Around this time, Lisa was pushed out. Mary had retired. The female leadership that steered the DDB ship so elegantly had deteriorated. In their place, we had a slew of rotating male talent. None of them stayed long. None of them really made progress. The Clorox account went up for review, and we lost them. The new CFO had affairs with female coworkers and suggested we have a “short shorts day” where everyone was to wear their finest Daisy Dukes. He chatted with one of the many ECD-Presidents we had and rated the women of the office in order of attractiveness while sitting in a corner at the client holiday party. That same President told Nikki and Leslie they would amount to nothing (they were just promoted to co-CCO’s of Fallon last week. “Best revenge is your paper,” ladies). They hired a CD who felt up a client at that same holiday party the next year, and they had to apologize to her through hangovers the next day.
I left without a plan. I went freelance without any projects or clients lined up. I needed out.
I began freelancing with Chapter SF, which was 8 months old at the time. The founders were (and are) brilliant. While I became one of 3 full-time female employees, I felt like I had found my people. They were pulling in projects from clients like Twitter, PayPal, Benefit Cosmetics, Google, Converse, Nike and Airbnb in their first year of existence. They bought everyone custom Pendleton Nike ID Airmaxes for our holiday presents.
But startup agency life was difficult. Imposter Syndrome set in (depicted beautifully in an article by Carrie Cousins earlier this week). I started pulling longer and longer hours. I couldn’t focus during the day so I started working every weekend so I could keep up. I stopped sleeping. I experienced insomnia for the first time in my life and I was getting maybe an hour of sleep a night. I stopped being able to speak. And when I could speak, I wouldn’t make sense. I stopped feeling anything at all. I would touch a hot pan to see if I could feel it (I couldn’t, even though my finger burned). I had bumps on my tongue that wouldn’t go away. I lost 15 lbs in one month because I lost a taste for food. I started to envision suicide. Maybe if I hung myself I wouldn’t have to attend that client meeting that I wasn’t prepared for.
Then, one dewy morning, I intentionally slammed on my brakes for a four-way stop sign and crashed my scooter. I would’ve rather hurt myself than show up at work without any ideas. My mom knew why I had crashed when I called her. She told me to go to the doctor. My doctor told me I had to go to the emergency room. I was placed in a bed with security detail by my door, until a bed opened up at the mental health clinic across the street. I was hospitalized amongst schizophrenics and homeless people with severe mental illness. I was checked for any cutting, diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and given medication in a paper cup. I spent Thanksgiving Day there, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on repeat and eating partially frozen pumpkin pie.
My boyfriend at the time broke up with me three days after New Years. My parents came and got me in my uncle’s minivan. I was on short term disability from work, but it was becoming more and more clear that my time in San Francisco had come to an end. I was rear ended in a four-car pileup two weeks after I had moved home to Portland, throwing me into doctor appointments 4 times a week for 8 months straight. I had reached the bottom.
When you’re trembling
That’s when the magic happens
And the stars gather by
Your side
Slowly but surely, my family, my friends and my team of doctors and therapists helped me climb out of the deepest hole of my life. I started to feel again. I started to become inspired by the simplest things. I stared in awe of the glass in my hand, acknowledging that it had been formed from sand and heat and hands. Some would call this mania. But I was sleeping fine, so none of my doctors were all that worried. I was being reborn.
I booked a trip to Costa Rica to gift myself the experience of a lifetime. I had never traveled alone, and it was the perfect place to go. Costa Rica is magical and holds a very special place in my heart to this day. My husband and I intend to go once lockdown lifts, and revel in the rainforest and the howler monkeys and the sloths and the ocean and the rivers and the mountains and feel a part of the world again.
I was flat broke, but finally loving life. I began freelancing and for once I was able to call the shots. I set my price, I grabbed coffee with creatives and recruiters, I signed contracts, I left when I needed to, and I didn’t give a shit about any office politics that everyone around me would freak out about day after day. I just came in, worked hard, and left. I made the most money I ever had during those two years. I freelanced for a year and bought a condo. I bought a car and paid it off 6 months later. I met the man who would eventually become my husband 3 years to the day of our first date (I took him to the Father John Misty concert at Edgefield. “Real Love Baby” was our exit song after we took our vows).
Life was grand. I worked at some killer agencies in town, taking on fun projects. I got a call from Ara Vallaster at AKQA (at the time) to come work on Nike’s global digital content. AKQA worked on producing product-centric content for Nike’s app, website and email. The team was led by Dan Peters and Sherief Younis at the time and was the largest in the office, bringing in the most income, but rather ignored and passed off as a well-oiled machine. I joined the team as a freelance Sr. Designer and quickly cringed at the production-oriented tasks day in and day out.
For my first client presentation, I was to present wireframes of several product stories, describing what each placement would contain (product-only shot, portrait of model, full body shot, etc.). It made no sense to me to solely put together wireframes, so I added mood boards and created story arcs and themes to these product shoots. I pulled an all-nighter getting the deck done, ran home to shower, and ubered out to the Nike campus chugging coffee.
I would go on to concept against and compile 200-page shoot plans for the Global Styleguide team season after season. I was contracted with AKQA but set up with a desk at Nike. After creating those shoot plans for 3 seasons and never getting to art direct my own ideas, I finally put my foot down. I was invited to art direct on set, and created some of the most beautiful work of my career that year.
Jessica Stacy and Kerry Kessler both worked at AKQA at this same time, though on different accounts. I got to work with them here and there, and was struck by their intelligence, drive, confidence, thoughtfulness and professionalism. They both left within 3 months of each other to help start an in-house brand design team at adidas North America.
Adidas had contracted with OLIVER Agency to bring structure and improve the work coming out of the in-house brand design team. Before OLIVER came into the picture, the team was largely made up of freelance contractors and was rather reactionary, receiving cast-off briefs none of the external agencies really wanted to work on. OLIVER specializes in setting up in-house teams with their clients. They are a Global agency and were named The Fastest Growing Agency by Adweek last year. The pandemic actually worked in their favor.
Kerry was hired as the Business Director for adidas Brand Design, and Jessica quickly joined her as the ACD of Copy. Jessica and I got coffee and she raved to me about her experience thus far, and mentioned that they were actively looking for her counterpart on the design side. I applied, had one of the easiest interview processes of my life, and was hired on my birthday last year.
The country locked down on March 13th, 2020. My first day with OLIVER at adidas was March 16th, 2020. We had put our condo on the market the week beforehand, but when it became clear that it was extremely dangerous to have random people tromping through our house we pulled it. My laptop was shipped to me on my first day, and I opened Zoom for the first time to see Kerry and Jess looking back at me.
At the time, we all thought we’d lock down for two weeks, then go back to the office and everything would return to normal. Since we’re an in-house agency, we have desks at the adidas office in North Portland. I had been in one building for my interview, and that is the only time I’ve set foot in that office.
My first assignment was to think through what adidas could do as a brand in response to COVID. Jess and I sat on Zoom my entire first week, pulling late nights and coming up with several ideas we could pitch to our clients.
At the time our team was split in two, with one part responsible for digital content on adidas channels, and one team responsible for content for in-store, DTC and wholesale placements. Retail was quickly boarding up windows. A month after I started, our budgets were slashed, everything was poured into ecom, and half of our team was laid off. I still remember hearing what was happening while on a walk and crying into the phone. I had survivor’s guilt times a million, as people started losing their jobs right and left and their family members started to die.
Jess and I got the brief for Pride, as assignments were ripped from external agencies. We were so excited about the opportunity, but the pressure was immense. We ended up creative directing a two-day, international FaceTime photoshoot, shot by Kenneth Cappello. We photographed members of the LGBTQ+ community: professional athletes like Ashlyn Harris and Layshia Clarendon, and influencers like Kai Isaiah Jamal. Our producer sent each cast member a tripod and product to wear, we logged onto Zoom, and screenshot them to “shoot”. We created a visual design system embracing the digital and remote nature of the shoot as well as Pride celebrations themselves. I’m still so proud of that work.
George Floyd was murdered a week before we launched our Pride campaign. I watched the video of his brutal death over and over. His beautiful face was seared into my brain. My beautiful home was set ablaze.
I worked 21 days straight to make that campaign a reality, adjusting the content slightly here and there in the wake of Mr. Floyd’s murder. I took a vacation immediately after it launched, but I think the damage had been done. My mental health started to deteriorate over July and August, until I found myself locked in the bathroom, crying for no reason on my husband’s birthday and our first anniversary (yes, we got married on his birthday).
I found a therapist and eventually a psychiatrist, but I couldn’t gain control. By the end of September, the entire west coast caught fire. Our home was in a level 2 evacuation zone. As I watched the thick smoke tumble down our street outside, my husband was packing his wedding suit, bags of clothes, and telling me we needed to get the hell out. I was typing away on Slack to my team, barely aware of what was happening.
We evacuated to my parents’ beach house so we could offer our puppy some fresh, ocean air. We tried to work there with limited service, and I finally snapped. I spoke with my therapist, she wrote me a literal script, and I called Kerry with tears in my eyes, requesting some time off. I immediately went on short term disability for the second time in my career. I was terrified I would lose my job and become destitute. I thought my husband was going to leave me. The insomnia came back, all feeling was lost, and I entered a depressive zombie state yet again.
After 35 days, I returned to work. On the Wednesday after my return, I found out I was pregnant.
Pregnancy during COVID is no joke. You must have virtual appointments with all of your doctors until your first ultrasound. You must attend every in-person appointment alone. You must get tested no more than 12 hours before your appointments. You must avoid getting sick at all costs. Do not go to the grocery store. Your partner should run all errands outside the home. You must maintain your exercise regimen but do not leave your house except to walk outside with a mask. I hated it.
My first ultrasound was scheduled when I reached 12 weeks. I brought my ipad so my husband could be with me via Zoom. I set up the camera so he could see the monitor, and anxiously watched the screen as the technician took measurements and marked the screen with notes. When he asked that we do a vaginal ultrasound, I knew something was wrong.
He conducted the vaginal ultrasound without a word, then pulled the instrument and handed me a box of tissues. He explained that he couldn’t find a heartbeat. Our baby was only 8 weeks along even though the placenta was 12 weeks. I had miscarried our first pregnancy.
The tears flowed, soaking my mask. My husband sat on Zoom, trying his best to hold it together. I drove home alone with the box of tissues the doctor gave me sitting in the passenger seat.
I had my D and C procedure 3 days before Christmas. I showed up at work the next day.
Quickly after I found out I miscarried, I got my results from the Genomind test my psych had ordered. I found out I am MTHFR, meaning my body can’t process folic acid or B12. I just needed to take pre-processed, or methylated, vitamins. I started taking one Methyl Folate + Methyl B12 vitamin a day. After a week, my depression lifted.
I feel like my brain is going through a renaissance now. Along with my extremely talented team, we are creating some of the best work I ever have in my career. Our leadership team in North America Brand Design is entirely made up of badass women. Kerry Kessler, Bex Silver, Alexandra Brown, Jessica Stacy and I work day in and day out to lead a team that is now executing work for all of the Americas. We meet every week and address any flags we’ve come across. We can’t wait to do a leadership offsite in Oregon wine country.
Adidas was just named Most Innovative Company by Fast Company this week. I’m inspired once again to make the work I’ve always strived to create for a brand that’s willing to take a chance and put work out into the world that impacts the civilization we’re all a part of. Work that is passion-driven, insightful, inspiring, resonant and reflective of culture and our challenging times.
I’m grateful for my job. But I’m also grateful for the opportunity to finally lead a team the way I’ve always wanted to lead. Taking inspiration from the women in my past and my every day present.
So, cheers to them. As @dudewithsign says, let’s “Celebrate Women Every Day.”
Ok ladies now let’s get in formation
Dedicated to the women who inspire me every day, and push me to keep going:
Linda Schultz, Arlene Froseth, Rachel Schultz, Stephanie Schultz, Tawnya Lege, Lily Schultz, Karin Lukins, Abbi Dunham, Anna Tolenaar, Lano Dash, Dian Schaffran, Jessica Marks, Olivia Marks, Erin Schaffran, Summer Schaffran, Nancy Schultz, Katy Schultz, Rachel Buck, Michelle Schmidt, Claire Leipzig, Devon Schulz, Rebecca Youngstrom, Shari Steber, Pat Fifer, Nancy Yeamans, Judy Jonas, Carin Steber, Mandi Ellis, Madeline Willman, Lauren Murphy, Kelsie Jordan, Kelly Montgomery, Jenna Richwine, Riley Hooper, Sara White, Sarah Leighton, Tori Manning, Caroline O’Grady, Charma Charuhas, Noelle Eaton, Kate Troedsson, Brittany Lauman, Amanda Eastwood, Jessica Stacy, Kerry Kessler, Bex Silver, Alexandra Brown, Amy Boyd, Rae Turner, Sabrina Zhang, Therese Rothfelder, Nikki Baker, Emily Smith, Katy Devine, Nicole Ishida, Moira Losch, Caity Morrell, Amelia Barouxis, Kristin Schultz, Rachel Hom, Ginny Golden, Dana Stalker, Deborah Morrison, Hannah Sturm, Jessica Danner, Sammi Chancey, Stephanie Lee, Frances Yaramishyn, Jillian Altizer, Vicki Altizer, Michelle Altizer, Beth Stanton, Dot Lukins, Laura Lukins, Jane Lukins, Amanda Goodroe, Lena Barrows, Lucy Melling, Heather Holtz, Leigh Ring, Christina Trautman, Christina Parr, Kelsey Wilkins, Pennee S., Christine Dippold, Cristiana Ciorba, Lindsey Marla Lynch, Rachel Slater, Eliza Slater, Janet Goulston, Chris Allen, Jonanna Widner, Darcie Burrell, Lauren Ranke, Makenna Combs, Lindsey Lucero, Jes Voight, Maggie Dieringer, Melissa Myers, Francesca Kimbell, Jessica Peters, Allison McBreen, Lisa Bennett, Tamara Larison, Marta King, Danielle Watchman, Jess Mora, Oyuki Lopez, Andrea Schneider, Heather Harlow, Jordan Wood, Maddy Mindich, Docia Nartey-Koram, Ara Vallaster, Jessica Harrington, Catlin Bowers, Krissy Brunsman, Rose Valderrama, Ali Stone, Genevieve Yarn, Lauren Wadsworth, Lauren Hogan Hicks, Katie Entler Woods, Nic Porter, Amaren Colosi, Jessica Gast, Traci Wojack, Kathryn Miller, Kim Karalekas, Melissa Bryant, Jenny Leonetti, Andrea Ho, Kira Hodgson, Natalie Chambers, Emily Kropp, Madeline DeWree, Jessica Wen-di Tan, Katje Chiller, Kristina Pham-Loo, Gabriella Narvaez, Rachel Modcrin, Madelyn Dorsey, Sofie Ruse, Nicole Flores, Claire Morrow, Erin May Davis, Brittany Dretke, Julie Greene, Sara Steinburg, Tari Gunstone, Angel Rodgers, Susan Rodgers, Katherine Fernandez, Alicia Inns, Heather Allen, Erin Rentenbach, Jovana Kamenko, Katie Johnston, Erin Nyce, Aimee Brodbeck, Ashley Stewart, Samantha Brown, Aubrey Day, Caitlin Flemming, Jade Meneguel, Kim Nguyen, Nicole Karalekas, Taylor Hacmac, Rachelle Hacmac, Nancy Strange, Faith Stafford, Nicole Potts, Sarah Cargill, Kelly McCullough, Marisa Mitchell, Holly Schnackenberg, Emily Jensen, Julie Goebel, Kadee Kall, Rose Yount, Allison Zender, Morgan Taylor Bradley, Kelly Colchin, Molly Morrow, Dee Meyers, Harriet Riley, Maki Katsumoto, Mira Kaddoura, Emily Baumann, Kristen Mohror, Shilpa Shah, Heather Day, Sarah Sherman Samuel, Lisa Congdon, Brené Brown, Nicole Franzen, Sally England, Gia Goodrich, Joanna Gaines, Emily Weiss, Amanda Gorman, Jaime Schmidt, Emily Henderson, Amy Schumer, Jenna Starkey, Bri Emery, Amanda Holden, Holly Jane Butler, Laura Berger, Jessica Walsh, Melissa McDonald, Kate Arends, Taylor Swift, Cindy Gallop, Amy Sherald, Regina King, Oprah Winfrey, Beyoncé Knowles Carter.
Rest in beautiful peace, Breonna Taylor.
The National Hotline for Suicide Prevention is 1–800–273–8255. Please call them if you need help.
