Welcome to Daughter’s House
When one chapter closes, another begins
The Soundtrack
I’ve kept Tom and his songs close since I first discovered him in 2016. This song, in particular, finds me every year around this time since its release, like an old friend. Play it with me while you read (and I write).
Hello! I’m Wilda—the writer behind this newsletter. Whether you’re new here or have been around for a while, you might have noticed some changes. I’m hoping you give me the chance to explain.
In January 2024, I stopped sending weekly newsletters. At the time, life felt heavy, and the curiosity I usually rely on was gone. The words didn’t come as naturally, and I started to feel unworthy of writing a newsletter about creativity when I felt so creatively depleted myself. This feeling wasn’t foreign to me, but this time, it overstayed its welcome.
Moving to Florida had slowly but surely uprooted my life in ways I hadn’t expected. I found myself stepping into greater family responsibilities, navigating the grief of moving on, and trying to find my footing in my new 9-to-5 job. I didn’t feel like the confident, “I can make anything happen” girl I had been. Instead, it felt like the years of work I had put into becoming this ideal version of myself were all crumbling before me.
For months, I was stuck in a creative and emotional fog—a crisis of identity I couldn’t seem to shake. When we experience moments like that, it feels like the whole world is falling apart. Only when we come out on the other side do we start to see the bigger picture. More often than not, breaking apart is part of becoming whole again.
That’s how I find myself here, on the other side of that chapter. While so much about my life and identity feels up in the air, what matters most to me is clear as ever: designing a life filled with curiosity, culture, and a celebration of the everyday. This newsletter has always been a special piece of that vision—a place for reflection and growth.
And so, I’m returning with a new name: Daughter’s House.
The name is deeply personal yet universal—a reflection of who I am and who I’m becoming. As the eldest daughter of an immigrant family, the title “Daughter” is one I carry into every corner of my life. It shapes the way I create, care for others, and dream of a life that feels like my own.
This new chapter feels, in part, like the only choice my mom has ever made for me. My mom is also the eldest daughter, but she grew up in a world where family always came first, and pursuing her dreams was often last on the priority list. When she found out her firstborn would be a girl, she decided that wouldn't be my story.
One of my earliest memories of this promise is a photo of me as a baby. In it, I’m wearing a deep plum velvet dress that my mom picked out for a family photoshoot. Everyone hated it, especially my grandmother, who already disapproved of many of my mom’s choices. She insisted the dress wasn’t “appropriate” for a little girl—it strayed too far from the traditional pastel pinks she thought I should wear. Years later, I realized the dress wasn’t just an act of defiance against my grandmother. It was a silent declaration that I didn’t have to conform to someone else’s expectations, even as a baby.
Growing up, my interests were never questioned, my voice was never dismissed, and my individuality was never treated as a burden. She made space for me to explore and decide who I wanted to be, even when those decisions were unexpected.
I remember the day she asked if I wanted to take ballet classes. She had been a dancer well into her early 20s, her only escape in a house full of brothers and cousins. I think part of her hoped I’d share that same love. But when she asked, I said, “No, Mom. Ballet is for good girls.” And to that, she just said, “Okay.” Looking back, I sometimes wish she had pushed a little harder. But in that moment, she gave me something far more valuable—autonomy.
Those small moments shaped so much of who I am. My mom raised me to have choices—choices she didn’t always have. She taught me that I could be both: a daughter who loves deeply and a woman who lives unapologetically.
But Daughter’s House is more than just my story. It’s a space for those navigating the balance between honoring where we come from and discovering who we are. It’s about creativity in its truest form: seeing the world in a way only you can.
Thank you for being here, whether you’re reading for the first time or the hundredth. I hope this newsletter becomes a space that inspires you to be deliberately yourself.
I’d love to hear from you—what’s one childhood memory that has shaped how you live your life? Let’s chat!
With love,
Wilda
I’m really crying.