I grew up not having a whole lot; I had everything I needed, and a lot of what I wanted, but only because my Dad busted his ass, and my Mom, too. He worked about 60 hours a week as an electrical supervisor, and my Mom sewed curtains for interior designers. I had to pay for my own car and for college by myself; I got a partial scholarship, thank god. They helped me when they could.

In art college in the 90’s, I developed this “rich people are evil and immoral” attitude, and that hardcore ethos; if you make money off your art or music by taking on a grant or a benefactor, you were a sellout and a poser. I used to see people in Mercedes or BMWs and sarcastically called them “job creators”. That was my attitude for about 25 years.

Then I married a guy who made a LOT of money off a drone company. As in, mid seven figures. It was totally weird for me, and I was really conflicted. With my attitude then, if he hadn’t been the kindest, sweetest, most loving guy I’d ever met, I probably would not have married him. That’d be selling out.

I went through a lot of guilt at first. When I went home to Tennessee, I felt like I had to pay for everyone’s dinner and drinks. I paid for concert tickets, gas, all kinds of stuff, for my friends who were struggling. I would take off my 3 carat engagement ring. That was, to me, my penance I paid for selling out, for joining Yuppieville.

Then I got a Benz for my birthday. I loved it; I’d never had a nice car that drives like it’s floating. I made friends with some of my neighbors, and they were awesome people. I had a “domestic goddess” (and she WAS!), a guy that worked on our house, and I got to hire cars to drive me to the airport (I despised driving to NOLA’s airport). I lived in a huge house, and if I wanted something all I had to do was ask.

I lost my identity for a while; I battled with the thought that I’d become the people I used to hate. I defined myself by that hardcore attitude. I wasn’t a yuppie, I wasn’t my old self….who the fuck am I?

Then I realized I could be both. It changed me in the way that I learned to accept people, regardless of if they were the CEOs of a Fortune 300 company, or the kids at the skatepark. I still could be my weird, artsy fartsy, skateboarding, punk band lovin’ self, and still think the people I met in Yuppieville were pretty cool people.

I didn’t sell out; I bought in.