Finding My Voice

Every year on my birthday, I sit with a blank page and a full heart and write down what I want, what I dream about, and what scares me just enough to know it matters. These aren’t resolutions or goals in the corporate sense. They’re quiet promises I make to myself when no one is watching, and they rarely come from hours of meditation. They come to me in the simple, quiet moments of life.

A few years ago, the page said to reclaim my body after babies and feel strong again, not for anyone else but for me. I did that. Then it said to become a college professor, to stand at the front of a room and teach what I had spent a decade learning. It felt audacious at the time, and I did that too.

Last year, the page said just one thing: scale Byaas.

Today, on my birthday, I get to tell you that it’s happening. Byaas has partnered with Goodee, and together we’re creating new products and custom designs born from a shared belief that what you bring into your home should carry meaning, history, and the warmth of someone’s hands. It’s the kind of partnership I dreamed about when I first started this brand, and one that truly honors the work of my family.

But here’s what I’m learning. Nothing worth doing happens overnight. The most meaningful things in my life have all had a long tail, built from the same small acts repeated over and over with intention, focus, and a devotion I can’t always explain to people.

That’s why birthdays, to me, aren’t trophies. They’re thresholds. They’re a chance to recharge, shift gears, and let go of what no longer fits so I can carry forward only what still does.

This year, the page holds a single word: voice. Not the polished, professional one, but the real one, the one that sometimes shakes.

Finding my voice means getting comfortable in my own skin, and not someday, but now. It means learning to say no without writing an essay to explain myself. It means accepting that I will disappoint people, and that their disappointment isn’t proof I did something wrong. And it means remembering that everything feels chaotic right before you level up, and that sometimes things have to break down completely before you find your new stride.

I want Byaas to find its voice too. I want people to hear this brand and feel something, to connect with the ideology behind each piece: seventy years of hands shaping metal, the gatherings, the warmth, and the home we’re helping you build.

So here I am, standing at the start of another year with a list that looks nothing like last year’s. New products, new people, new work, and new courage.

Not perfection. Not permission. Just my voice.

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