Jackillem: Long Live the Legendary Latina

I like to think I have an abundance of inspiring women to write about. I could tell you the story of how my grandmother came from living in poverty during and post WWII in a family of 11 to finding wealth in America. I could talk about my incredible doula friends for days that are undoing the indoctrination of fear that exists around birth culture. In case you're unfamiliar, birth doulas are (usually) women who educate and offer emotional and physical support to a pregnant person before, during and after giving birth. It's like the best friend you could ever ask for during pregnancy. I could also introduce you to my main inspiration these days, a bad ass single mother living in a country where she had no friends or family that grew a business that didn't really exist, into a 6 figure company. I'm truly blessed to be surrounded and influenced by so many kick ass women in my life. But when I read the prompt for this writing challenge, there was only one woman who came to mind. I want to tell you about my friend Jacky.

Her full name was Jackyara Tatis but in our group of friends, she was Jacque. To her social media community, she was Jackillem. To her most closest sisters, she was Hanky. Whatever you called her, if you knew her you knew she was something special. And you knew she was going to grow to become something big.

When I met Jacky, she was a few years out of college and like most millennials, totally over her 9-5 in the city. Jacky showed up into our lives ready to marry the knowledge she received studying at the Art Institute of NY with her natural born talents and she was ready to make BREAD while doing it. It was Jacky's dream to pull herself, her family and friends out of a life of just surviving to get by into living a full and blessed life with her art. You gotta love a woman who knows what she wants. So, she came on as an illustrator for an independent freelance creative collective called Field House Media, I had started with my two friends Gyms and Rob, in 2015.

Before she came on, things were a bit disorganized and sometimes lacked direction. We had plenty of brilliant ideas, but had a hard time executing them to completion. Gyms had the group's vision and mission, and was already a talented photographer and business/entrepreneur guru and so for a while, was our mentor. Rob bought himself a Cannon and quickly taught himself videography. He flourished before my eyes in a matter of months. Then came Jacky, spitting rap bars on bleachers (that were not so coincidentally-in a dark field) the first night I met her. She would continue to blow my mind with her wit, wisdom, and unlimited capacity for creation and adaption to ever changing circumstances. She provided essential skills that would help us help other brands and artists grow. She was the perfect complimentary force. The fourth pillar that made up the foundation of our #fieldhouse

Me? I guess you can say I promoted, marketed, and modeled for any projects we had. I directed, styled, and organized a few photo shoots as well. Pretty much helped on projects in any way I knew how. In the beginning I was still super shy and afraid to take on any leadership roles, especially since I was still trying to find where I fit in. In my eyes, my team was talented and knew their roles, which oftentimes made me feel pressured to catch up and find my own hidden talents in order to be just as confident and talented as my contemporaries.

I wanted to be great and wanted to be myself but had no idea who that self was. I struggled to find direction - a lot. I struggled with undiagnosed mental health issues, in denial at how much my anxiety and depression was debilitating my capacity to thrive and focus on hitting my goals. I had just recently graduated college and was juggling being a mom, sister, daughter, the friend everyone leaned on and working nearly full-time hours. I also struggled with a pretty severe case of Crohn's disease - a chronic digestive autoimmune imbalance - all while trying to make time for myself in the evenings to enjoy the things that made me feel human again (when I wasn't ill or in pain or both.) You can say I had a very chaotic upbringing, so I never had a chance to explore my creative talents until my early 20's. When you chronically exist in survival mode, there's just no time for play and fun. So trying to find what you're best at when you have no idea what play and fun is, is hard and murky work.

Jacky's existence made me step outside of my victim role and into the role of action. Jacky and I laughed a lot and shook our heads a lot together during business meetings when the boys were fooling around. Jacky was my rock who kept me grounded and gave me direction during moments of panic and anxiety in the middle of big projects. Jacky brought a beautiful feminine balance to our creative group.

There were times that I would surrender and enjoy myself and how far I've come. Being a part of Field House Media gave me space to breathe a sigh of relief, stimulate my mind in new ways, and allowed me time and space to slowly but surely unfurl my wings that had been tucked away since I was a young girl - once I got past my fear of "not being or doing enough."

Jacky's arrival was pivotal for me to overcome that fear because I felt safer to speak up having another woman present. Hindered by past traumas, I had always felt unsafe to speak and be seen in a masculine dominant environment. Jacky's confidence seeped into me - akin to a slightly neglected plant baby finally being watered by its caregiver after a few weeks of neglect. I felt more confident in my ideas and capabilities. I learned to trust myself more. I learned to allow myself to try new things, and be okay with failure, just by witnessing Jacky do the same with no problem.

Jacky wasn't afraid to try something new, admitting many times she had no idea what she was doing. Jacky wasn't afraid to fuck up either. She showed me how to bet on myself, learn from my mistakes, and follow my heart onto the next creative adventure with my newfound wisdom. But sadly, it wasn't until after her death did I embody the lessons she taught me here on earth.

I like to say Jacky arrived on divine timing. She left this world that way too. Jacky dreamt big and carried a wide array of surprising talents in her arsenal that would certainly help get her place in this world. She was a master finesser, you just never knew what she had up her sleeve. In the short time I knew her, I've seen her make money from her digital art despite not having the funds to purchase an ipad or any other digital tool. She created her illustrations super old school - print, cut, markers, paste, copy. She worked from a pc that had to be at least 12 years old - you know the kind that won't work unless the charger is plugged in. You can get a peek of her process in this 3 part video series launched on her IG here. She showed up in her creative space consistently and stayed relevant with pop culture. Cute example - check out this clothing brand rendition of logos she created in honor of #hispanicheritagemonth

I saw myself in Jacky a lot. She came from a humble family raised by a single mom after her step father passed away while she was in high school. She grew up in my small town, and, like me, was also over the small town shit. At one point in my life I was just as curvy as she was, and struggled with body image issues whereas Jacky owned her body type. She's worked with various brands and photographers such as CreepyYeha Tatiana Nancy and Damarys Alvarez of daexpose taking great pride in being a curve model. Her work was featured in various local art shows such as Studio Day from Elizabeth, NJ and even had her modeling published in Elle magazine. She had fashion forward ideas to normalize heavier body types and fight against #fatphobia before fat phobia was a hashtag. Jacky wasn't the type to wait for opportunities to come her way - she created them. She was both the visionary and the creator. She wanted recognition for her talents and wasn't shy to admit that. In short - Jacky was a hustler with pockets full of talents and potent potential to change the feminine freelance game as we know it.

Jacky's go-get it attitude and natural talent made me remember my privilege despite my adversities, and reminded me I could always be doing better. She knew how to celebrate her wins and still keep it humble. She had a way of sharing accomplishments and big news in such a gentle way. Always with the smallest smile, knowing this was just the beginning for her. She knew she was worth big money, but also knew she had to show up and do the work to get those checks. You don't come across too many young women fresh out of college knowing exactly what they want and what they need to do to get there.

I never envied Jacky's success - in fact I loved being at her side witnessing her wins. Jacky's wins made me want to win for myself too. The way she moved motivated me to move with more conviction. Jacky taught me how to find ways to make my art come alive even if I was broke. Jacky helped me overcome my insecurities around modeling and public speaking. She taught me it was okay to ask for more out of life as a woman. She invited me to think more, want more, play more. She encouraged me to explore my talents and reminded me to have fun in life, something I had forgotten how to do after becoming a mother at 16.

I was always afraid of "being too much." Taking too much attention. Talking too much. Taking up too much space. Jacky showed me that - there's no such thing as being too much. She made me feel like I was just enough no matter how I showed up. She celebrated my wins even if I felt they were too small to celebrate.

When Jacky died, I was in a state of shock. Jacky was one of the first closest experiences of death I have ever encountered, during a time where I felt numb. Crying was not a friend of mine so I didn't cry much when she died, and felt shame about it. Gyms - who had since grown from best friend and business partner to my boyfriend - was the one who told me the news. I had spoken to our other partner and friend, Rob, earlier that day. He was looking for my boyfriend. He sounded off, but I didn't think much of it. I wasn't with my boyfriend yet, so I couldn't help him anyway.

I wouldn't go to my boyfriend's house until later that evening. I arrived with my dinner in a Tupperware. He let me eat my dinner quietly. I knew something was wrong but I had no idea what was coming because he wouldn't tell me. I sensed it wasn't a topic I should press and so I ate. When I was finished eating he gently told me the news that we had lost our friend in a car accident. He just managed to get the words out before he broke into a million pieces. He had been kindly holding himself together for the last hour with me. I held him in my arms as he he finally let himself go. I could say or feel or think nothing other than the tremendous loss of greatness that was contained in Jacky's vessel. My brain needed to process before my heart could. The world had lost a legend before she could truly make her mark.

Jacky came into my life with so much light, she illuminated my shadow self. The fact of the matter was that I was no longer a little girl anymore. And it was time to begin the process on unlearning the bullshit stories I was told about "not being good enough" or whatever else was in my head. If I was going to be her friend and build a brand with her, I had no choice but to stop feeling sorry for myself and all my traumas and level the fuck up. That's the energy she brought to me.

When Jacky died it was like a veil was lifted from me - I knew what I had to do for her. And not just her but what I had to do for myself because life is too short to be living in fear. And the truth is I would have never been able to admire her genius if I wasn't able to see my own. With this new found courage I pulled myself out of my head and into my body to create. And so sitting one night alone in my room, 4 months pregnant with my son, I wrote the very first poem I ever started and finished in one sitting. Titled: For Jackillem

About a month after her transition, a friend of ours named Yaya, business owner of the clothing brand Out of This World Threads decided to bring the community together and put together an open mic night in Jacky's name, donating all proceeds to support her family for their sudden loss. Yaya who was one of the last people to see Jacky hours before she passed away, was also greatly impacted by Jacky's death. Both inspired and shocked by Jacky's art and sudden loss, Yaya's act of generosity gave me the safe space I needed to confront both my fears of public speaking and letting the world know that I was a poet. I had been writing little poems for years, most of them unfinished but never shared them with anyone, not even the House Gang. never daring to call myself a poet. I didn't feel entitled to that right, because I could never finish my work. But it didn't matter that night. That night at Speak up Series, I let my voice be heard. I wanted the world to witness my pain and love for my friend Jacky.

I felt surprisingly calm and centered the day of. I also felt an unfamiliar sensation of clarity and existing on purpose. It wasn't until I arrived at venue that my normal feelings of fear and anxiety began to creep. Walking from the car to the door I was surrounded by my friends, but I began to disconnect from the moment. My heart began beating faster than the steps I took. I suddenly felt too hot for an anemic pregnant lady who always shivered. My phone slipped through the sweat of my palm when I got closer to the door and saw the crowd formed outside. I was able to come back to earth as I saw more familiar faces, finding comfort and support in the embraces as we all came together to both mourn and celebrate our friend's life.

The night was beautiful. One by one people went up to the stage to perform their art. There were singers, rappers, musicians, poets and authors. There were beautiful words said about Jacky shared by both friends and strangers. There was a list open to sign up for all of the artists who wanted to perform. I didn't sign my name until the last hour. When I looked down at the list, I hovered for a moment, wondering if I should put my real name or my "artist" name. I bravely chose the latter. I threw the pen down and walked back to Rob and Gyms, nervous as all hell. It wasn't until I heard Yaya's voice through the crowd say "Ash The Kook - you're up next," that the ball began to form in my throat. I took a deep breath hoping to drown out the mind chatter in my head with some oxygen. There was no mic back then, so the crowd gathered close as Yaya called everyone's attention. The room fell completely silent as I walked to center stage. The place I've avoided my whole life.

My body trembled like the strings of a guitar plucked. I began to speak and I realized, Oh shit, my voice is trembling too. I hope no one notices. I apologized to crowd for needing to use my phone, as I had written the poem the day before I didn't have time to memorize it. They didn't seem to care. So again I swallowed some air, sucked up my fears and began to speak. I allowed the words to pour from my throat, and as they did, I began to feel that weighted ball open and unfurl with every syllable. Holy shit, this feels liberating. I was really starting to lean into the power of my passion when Yaya shouted from the crowd. "Yo I know you saying something important right now but no one knows what you're saying SPEAK UP!"

My cheeks burned with embarrassment at being called out but it was short lived. I laughed at the irony of the moment. I took an even deeper breath than I ever thought I could and invited the power I always knew I had into my voice. I shouted my poem into the crowd. I spoke with love. I spoke with pain and passion. I felt the fear melt away and my muscles regain control again as hot tears burned down my cheeks while I recounted the moments I would never again have with my friend Jacky.

I had avoided eye contact with anyone at all until I was done. It wasn't until I saw the equally wet faces around the room that I realized my poem had given words to what many of us had been feeling about Jacky's loss. I felt honored to be given that task, and humbled by the amount of love and admiration I received by everyone in the room. There are many things I wish I did differently while Jacky was still here, but I am grateful I did not allow the pain of loss to cripple me even more. I will never forget that night. That night I formed bonds with people so special that I never would have happened had I not found the courage to speak up. That night Jacky came back to earth one last time to see me finally shine bright just like she did.

Often times we find excuses to avoid doing the thing we know might bring us success because we're scared. Sometimes we're scared of success, sometimes we're scared of failure. I think I was afraid of both. But that night I didn't let those fears stop me from sharing my art with the world just like Jacky did. It's my hope that you take some of the inspiration I shared with you today from Jacky's legacy and invite it to spark movement into actualizing your own dreams and aspirations. I hope that you can learn to back yourself even if nobody else will. Be the only artist in your group of friends, so what? You can make more. Write your first song verse. Start the sketch to your next painting. Stalk your favorite artists' IG so you can catch them in your city and share your art with them too.

I often wonder if I will ever forget the magic I shared with Jacky, but I remember it every time I create. I feel her presence with me every time I write, sing, and especially, every time I complete a new project I'm working on. I know that as long as I continue to create, her legacy will live on because that's what Jacque would want me to do. Be great and create.

If you would like to listen to the audio recording of my poem moments after it was written, you can listen here. To watch the ad for Jacky's "Killem Retro" campaign, hit this link and make sure to like and share her work, to keep her legacy alive <3