"cult"

Ash was fifteen when she became a mother.

She was also fifteen when the world stopped protecting her.
Not with cruelty — that came later — but with silence. With indifference.
With every adult who glared and stared at her, clueless to the wreckage forming behind her eyes.

She was strong. And tired. And brilliant. And rising anyway.

 

There were bruises.
There was abuse.
There were years when love came with threats, when safety had conditions, and when motherhood looked like fighting tooth-and-nail just to breathe.

But there was also this:
A tiny human who needed her.
A voice inside her whispering “keep going.”

So she did.

 

She earned a degree in criminal justice.
Got hired onto a police force.
Then walked away when her spirit said “this isn’t what justice feels like.”

She built a business called Tiny Human Food — created with purity and soul and a middle finger to the processed trash being sold to children. And with no connections, no capital, no roadmap… she got it into Target.

Let me repeat that.
She got it into Target.

Because of course she did.

She doesn’t move like the world says to move.
She moves like someone who remembers who she is.

 

She’s rubbed shoulders with celebrities.
Sat across from Chris Gardner himself — the man from The Pursuit of Happyness — because she politely pushed her way into a one-on-one lunch with him and then showed up like she belonged there sitting on the floor at one point looking up at him knowing her life would never be the same.
And she did.
She always has.

But beneath all of that — the press, the rooms, the near-fame —
Ash was doing her most sacred work:

Raising her kids.
Surviving.
Transforming.

And when the systems that were supposed to protect her child failed — she didn’t crumble.

She studied. She fought. She documented everything.

And then?

She released her children's book, Me, Big:Life-giving Lessons for Littles to help children stay connected to themselves in a world that does its best to make them forget who they are. 

She discovered a brilliant mind in the ADA rights space...

and then she applied to law school.

Because real change won’t come unless someone brave enough to remember pain walks into the system and rewrites it from within.

Ash intends to be that someone.

 

But her mission didn’t stop there.

She partnered with Project Child Rescue, standing in quiet solidarity with those on the frontlines of rescuing children from trafficking — giving her voice, her time, and her platform to a cause so dark most people refuse to even look.

But Ash?
She never looks away.

Because healing childhood doesn’t stop at her son.
It extends to every child still in the dark.

​

She realized that even though she was a reluctant leader, she could be counted on in a way she didn't know any other human to be able to offer, so she made hu·money·ty.

Not as a brand.
Not as a business.

As a sanctuary for people like her:

• The ones who see the cracks in the matrix

• The ones who are tired of being told to wait

• The ones who never had safety — so they decided to build it

She didn’t start a cult (though if she did, the robes would be cute).
She started a community of sacred misfits.
People who believe justice should be sacred.
That money should be human.
That truth shouldn’t be a luxury.
That mothering the world is a revolutionary act.

 

Ash isn’t fearless.
She’s real.
That’s why people follow her.
That’s why people trust her.

Because she doesn’t teach from theory — she teaches from fire.
Because she never asks anyone to do what she hasn’t already survived.
Because when she says “You’re not alone anymore,” she means it.

And when she says “Let’s build something new,”
you better believe the world’s already shaking.