Before Rebel Hearts had a name, it lived as a quiet idea in my Keep Notes app (yes, I’m a Google Pixel girl). A hope. A maybe. Something I wanted to create not just for myself, but for the kind of photographer I once was — someone looking for belonging, inspiration, and a place to not feel intimated.

I didn’t know if it would work. I just knew it needed to feel different. Less about competition. More about care. Less about perfection. More about people.

So I created this event with two intentions:
First, to build a space where queer love was celebrated at the center.
Second, to offer something collaborative and inviting — not intimidating.

Hosting my first community-driven content day taught me more than I expected — about trust, leadership, and the slow, beautiful work of building something from the ground up. It’s one thing to dream about spaces like this, and another to actually build them. Here’s what I learned:

Lesson One: People were craving spaces with heart

Leading with values like inclusion, intention, storytelling, and representation shaped the entire energy of this event. I didn’t just find attendees — I found collaborators. Some new friends. Some old faces. People who saw the same gaps in the industry and wanted to fill them with care.

These aren’t transactional connections for me. They were rooted, thoughtful, aligned. And that’s where real creative energy lives.

Lesson Two: Things rarely go as planned, and that’s okay

I had to learn to be gentle with myself as timelines shifted and unexpected changes came up. Hosting something like this was layered, a tad messy, and unpredictable behind the scenes. What mattered wasn’t perfection — it was how I adapted, stayed honest, and kept moving without losing sight of my why.

For the first scheduled date, a few attendees had to cancel last-minute due to flight safety concerns in the news. It wasn’t something I could control, but it was something I had to sit with, reflect on, and adjust around. I had to pull ego aside and not let it stop me for trying again with a different date. And it was just as welcomed, as the first round.

Lesson Three: Building a community takes real work, responsibility and accountability.

I’d been intentionally building my community for the past three years. It has taken time to create something meaningful — a space where people felt like they belonged. It took consistency, showing up even when it felt quiet, and extending gentle invitations again and again.

But it was also about building something different in this industry. A space that reflected real diversity. The industry often felt cliquey, and it wasn’t common to see photographers expanding their circles or who they collaborated with. I get it — once you find safety, it’s hard to leave. But that exact mindset shaped one of my biggest reflections:

What kind of space am I creating? Who am I making room for?

I wanted to challenge what was considered “normal” and open the door for new voices, new stories, and new friendships to exist alongside mine.

Lesson Four: The right people found me

One of the biggest shifts I’ve made in my thirties was learning to stop shrinking myself to fit into existing spaces. I got louder about what mattered to me — inclusivity, representation, artist sustainability. And honestly, it was terrifying. Sharing my truth felt risky, like it might close doors.

But I kept going. I learned to stay with the discomfort, and in doing so, I watched the right people gravitate toward similar values and experiences (thank goodness).

This event reflected that. It showed me the kind of beautiful connection that can happen when you stop asking for permission and start making space.

The truth is — community isn’t built overnight, or even in one event. It grows in quiet encouragement, behind-the-scenes messages, and showing up for others again and again. This event was just one piece of a much bigger, much more meaningful picture.

Lesson Five: I was building something bigger than me

This wasn’t just about one day or one gallery of images. I was planting seeds. Creating entry points for others. This event wasn’t just mine — it was for every queer, diverse, emerging creatives who ever felt like there wasn’t a place at the table.

We’re building that table — slowly, together.

*Elopement Models: Yani & Cami; Elopement Bouquet:* *NYC Flower Pop*

Hosting this event stretched me in ways I didn’t anticipate — not just as a photographer, but as a facilitator, collaborator, and community builder. It reminded me that care is a form of leadership, and that meaningful things often grow in quiet, imperfect ways.

If you're thinking about creating something of your own, start small. Start with heart. That’s more than enough. If any of this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts — my inbox is always open 💌!

With love & gratitude,
Stef