Art is my healing, my shield, my sword— a weapon of truth no system can afford. I never called myself an artist, though the fire burned. Through doubt and imposter syndrome, I learned. I went to LaGuardia, the Fame School, the top, where privilege thrived but my spirit wouldn’t stop. I lifted others, made their sparks soar, while hiding my flame behind a closed door. Street art is public, for every passerby— defiant, accessible, reaching the sky. Each mural, each wall, a message to hear, every frame a cheer: justice is near. I fight for freedom, not fleeting fame. Art is my weapon, my roar, my flame. It unmasks lies, exposes disdain, teaching us power is ours to regain. Education should spark joy, not fear. They teach silence—I broke those chains, reclaimed my hand. I’ve been shadow-banned, muted online, yet truth still burns, raw and divine. History honors the brave who rise— not the silent, nor those in disguise. I honor rebels, truth-tellers, the bold, from Sojourner Truth to Van Gogh’s soul. Art heals, revolts, and gives us a voice— a radical path, a courageous choice. It saves lives, swings doors, rewrites fate. Our pens pound; our voices create. ACAB. We rise, we fight. Expose inequity, amplify the right. Fuck the alt-right, their lies and their greed— we build a just world where all are freed. Free Palestine. Defend the oppressed. ArtworldNYC makes justice expressed. I am Indigenous, Ecuadorian, New Yorker too, a witness, creator, in struggle I grew. From poverty to power, from silence to roar— art is liberation, and I am its core. Brushes that bash, murals that murmur, streets that stir, voices that thunder. History will honor those who persist and create, not those who bow, comply, or hesitate. — @artworldnyc manifesto