In my self-portrait series Transplant: Finding a Way to Fit In, I explore the experience of displacement, belonging, and the constant re-negotiation of identity as a migrant, a woman, and a mother.

The word “transplant” first struck me through its medical definition: the surgical removal of an organ, tissue, or group of cells from one body to another, often met with rejection and requiring a lifetime of adaptation. I was drawn to how closely this mirrors the emotional and psychological process of migration. Like a transplanted organ, the migrant body is placed into a new host environment—sometimes voluntarily, sometimes not—and must learn to survive, adapt, and function, even if full integration is never quite achieved.

I moved to Vancouver by choice, yet years later, I still find myself emotionally and socially adrift. The physical environment offers me solace—particularly in nature—but I often feel disconnected from the people and rhythms of the city. There’s a dullness that settles in the space between arrival and belonging, where forming meaningful connections can feel like a slow, uncertain process. 

This series sits in dialogue with my broader practice, which often explores memory, identity, and intergenerational trauma. Transplant expands on these themes from a deeply personal vantage point. It reflects the quiet tensions of living between cultures and the shifting phases of life where one’s identity must continuously adapt. Each self-portrait marks a moment of transition—an emotional and psychological transition from one phase of being into another.

This work has helped me articulate something I have long felt but struggled to define. In many ways, I am still learning how to belong—not only to a place but also to myself. This series is an offering of that ongoing search.