I Made Something That Spoke First to Me

How Worn to Speak was born from silence, survival, and sunglasses. It

started with a sunglass chain.

A cheap one. It broke.
And instead of throwing the idea away, I made something better. Stronger. More me.

I didn’t know it then, but that little broken chain would eventually lead me here — to Worn to Speak.

I was juggling everything back then. A long-distance relationship. A full-time job. A babysitting side hustle that fizzled before it even launched. Dreams of jewelry and something mine that always had to wait.

I met Emily Jones — a powerhouse woman I connected with during my diploma program in Assaulted Women and Children’s Counselling Advocate program at George Brown College. She introduced me to jewelry suppliers and, honestly, helped open a door I didn’t even know I was allowed to walk through. That was the start of something.

I applied to Parsons using my jewelry and my blog. I got in. That alone was a win.

But life was heavy. Too many jobs. Not enough time. Not enough space to think, let alone thrive.

Then COVID hit. And like many things during that season, the sunglass chain had to evolve too. So it became a multipurpose chain. I got creative. I innovated. I met a supplier in China I’ve now worked with for years.

And “I am Hami” slowly grew. It wasn’t a business yet — just a woman making things that made sense to her.

Then I became a mother. And it hit me like a wave I wasn’t ready for. The beauty, the grief, the isolation. I remember thinking: Am I never going to be alone again?

That was the beginning of the question that wouldn’t leave me alone: What is a woman?

I didn’t know how to ask it out loud. Some people thought I was complaining. Some just didn’t get it. But I was carrying so much and had nowhere to lay it down.

Until one night at dinner — my husband’s brother’s colleague asked, “So, what do you do?” And I froze.

I didn’t have an answer. I had a dozen dreams, half a résumé, and a creative mind full of projects that no one could see.

That night, I went home and finally asked myself:

What do I want to make, that speaks to me?
What would I wear if I wasn’t afraid to say, what I really felt?

Motherhood cracked something open in me. Not just the exhaustion or the hormones or the lack of sleep. But the realization that I had become the glue — holding everything together, often silently.

That I was the one awake through the night. The one remembering the appointments. The one holding her breath while everyone else lost their tempers. The one absorbing mood swings, holding space, making magic out of mess.

Is that what being a woman is? That question haunted me. And instead of letting it eat me alive, I shaped it into gold.

Worn to Speak isn’t just jewelry. It’s a question you wear. A truth you carry. It’s a way of starting the conversations I never had. With other women. With my daughters. With myself.

Because I want my girls to talk about periods. To ask about sex. To understand vaccines and safety and pain and pleasure. To feel like their bodies aren’t secrets, but stories.

I want them to say out loud the things I only whispered at 33.

I made something that spoke first to me. And now, maybe, it can speak to you too.

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.