About The Artist

HI, I'M KRYSIA BADASS.

Where do I begin when sharing my story?

... The truth is, I am just one tiny artist in this fascinating and brutal world, but I am a survivor that wants to make the world feel more inclusive through art.

I have a story unlike many, yet also like so many.

Just like me, others in this world that have gone through many similar situations that have contributed to decreased mental health and suicide. Unfortunately, I am just one small person of the 280+ million people that suffer from Clinical Depression. I cannot say that I have defeated depression, in fact, I had a two day long breakdown just one day prior to rewriting this page, because the truth is, I deal with it every single day, every waking minute.

My suicidal idealizations severely intensified in 8th grade, a time where I was at a new school with new people in a new state; a time when cruel words were spoken both online, to my face, and behind my back; a time where I could not escape the pain of classmates antagonizing my existence even when I was in (what was supposed to be) the safety of my home. I had a rock hard back brace to stop my spine curvature from worsening, one pair of pants that fit, and five name-brand T-shirts I saved up for to purchase from Platos Closet, in attempts to fit in. All while living in a house filled with uncomfortable memories of unwanted advancements by unwanted predators (to no fault of my parents; they were never aware); nor was this the first home of such advancements.

I distinctly remember replaying Eminem's song, Beautiful, on repeat as I sobbed beneath this chunky old wooden desk in our rental house outside of Detroit. I had IM'd (instant message for all you youngins) a fellow newbie at the school, traumatically asking if he would care if I was alive; I had finished writing my suicide note and was ensuring everything was in order before I decided to take a knife to my skin.

I was pleading to God to take me away from this cruel world that I so desperately did not want to partake in.

Between the pain of disapproving school teachers, unwanted peers, and a home where I felt unsafe, I was struggling to find a reason to live.

The lyrics read,

"Lately I've been hard to reach; I've been too long on my own. Everybody has a private world where they can be alone... Are you calling me? Are you trying to get through? Are you reaching out for me as I am reaching out for you? I'm just so fucking depressed, I just can't seem to get out of this slump; if I could just get over this hump, but I need something to pull me out of this dump! I took my bruises, I took my lumps, fell down and I got right back up, but I need that spark to get psyched back up in order for me to pick the mic back up."

The lyrics continue, eventually leading into a chorus,

"But, you have to walk a thousand miles in my shoes, just to see what it's like to be me; I'll be you, let's trade shoes, just to see what it'd be like to feel your pain, you feel mine, go inside each other's mind just to see what we find, look at shit through each other's eyes. But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful, they can all get fucked, just stay true to you!"

Just like the lyrics of this song, my emotions bounced from powerless to strength, and back to powerless. The chorus continues, leading into the next verse,

"As I walk in it's like all eyes on me so I try to avoid any eye contact, 'cause if I do that then it opens a door for conversation, like I want that (ha), I'm not looking for extra attention, I just want to be just like you and blend in with the rest of the room... Maybe point me to the closest restroom."

I share these lyrics because the relatability spoke to how I felt every single day.

Eventually, I gained the strength to reach out to those who had once been cruel to figure out why I was struggling with finding anyone to be in my life, someone to relate to. I shook off the RBF (resting bitch face) as I was told I had, and reinvented myself to survive.

In 11th grade, I was given the opportunity to be someone completely new... again.

For the next 12 years of my life, I created a facade. I, again, was bullied at my new school via social media and stalking from classmates, but none of this truly bothered me now because the distain people had for me wasn't towards me... it was towards my facade.

I had grown numb to pain and numb to the creativity that lay dormant in my soul, and began living a life that was a falsehood for my core being.

I fell in love with the family of a midwestern boy; they cared about one another, they had family dinners, and his parents watched each of their son's sports; never once missing a game. I distinctly remember seeing his father softly massaging his mom's calfs on the couch, a genuine touch and love between two people that I had never seen before. The support they provided their children was an unveiling characteristic and attribute that spoke within me.

It seemed so ... simple.

I ended up marrying the most stable of the sons, envisioning a charming, simple midwest life, nearly forgetting what creativity lay dormant in my soul.

After spending 10 years of my life growing with this person from a teenager into a young adult, I realized that my passion to create did not align with a life that he wanted, and I left the marriage to chase after a dream to pursue my life as it was intended for me.