July 27th, 1984 marked a significant moment in my life. Geraldine Ferraro was breaking ground for women by running for Vice President, the Olympic Games were going on in full gear and I was entering America “The Beautiful”, a place that, up until that point, I only knew through Hollywood movies. I left Brazil for California with $1,200 cash on me, not able to speak a word of English, with a heart full of hope and my mind filled with fearless determination.

But July 27th is not where my story starts. At 18, I got pregnant by my very first boyfriend in Brazil, got married and moved away from my family. My new home was a little, rented wooden house, which later on the owner turned into a chicken coop.

Verbal abuse at the hands of my new husband was soon followed by physical abuse and, for three long years, I endured a miserable existence, terrified by my husband’s drinking, his infidelity and his anger. Unfortunately, Brazilian culture empowers men by giving them total control of the family, allowing them to cheat and beat and feel proud of it, while women are forced to be submissive and ready to please.

Regardless of what culture dictated, regardless of my imposed “role” in my young family, I was not a submissive woman. Unable to take the abuse anymore, I faced my husband and asked for a divorce. After a few months, he agreed to it.

With the divorce papers in hand, savoring the taste of freedom, I sold all my belongings, grabbed my kid and moved far away from his rage, as far away as I felt I could go; I moved to California. The joy of running from him overcame the incredible pain of leaving my country, my family and my friends behind.  Of course, I often felt alone, tired and scared, but at the same time, I felt powerful beyond belief.  

Those who have suffered at the hands of abuse – physically, emotionally, psychologically – at home or at work, know that there is one simple and difficult-to-remember factor that draws us out of adverse situations. This is the realization that we are worthy human beings and we deserve better.  I was ready to take over my own life. I was prepared to face any obstacle. Above all, I was happy to finally be at peace with myself and proud of my ability to self-care. 

As a survivor, I see living as a privilege and feel life should always be lived at its fullest. For a couple of years after arriving in the States, I did whatever I needed to do to support myself and my young son. I worked as a housekeeper, a babysitter, a cook and a gardener.  I was anything I needed to be in order to provide a safe environment for my son.  Then, in 1985, I met my future husband, got married in 1988 and, after having two more boys, decided it was time to go out and try something new for myself. I decided to start my own business. 

I am a people person by nature and, by the end of the 80s, the spa industry was just beginning to be formed. As a newbie to the small business community, I figured I should play to my strengths and make a living developing relationships and bringing the best out of others, which was something I knew I could do exceptionally well. 

Still, my true “A-ha!” moment came while I was attending beauty school. After watching a “How to Body Wax” tape in class, I offered to show my peers an alternative technique. The video reconnected me to my years in Brazil, where I exchanged waxings with my sisters and friends and where, unbeknownst to me, I developed my own waxing style. Intrigued, the teacher agreed to the demonstration. Afterwards, she promptly threw the old VHS tape away and from then on I was her Teacher’s Assistant during waxing classes.  Today, several years later, I also work as the Waxing Professor at that same beauty school.