“Changing the Conversation”: 12 Raw Stories Behind These People’s Unique Appearances Captured In A Photography Project By Sujata Setia

What “Changing the Conversation” Is Really About

Setia’s series challenges the default script our culture hands us: beauty equals symmetry, scars should be hidden, visible difference should be explained,
and staring is “curiosity” as long as you do it politely. Instead, this project flips the lensliterally and sociallyso the subjects control the narrative.

The portraits and captions revolve around a simple idea: people are not walking before-and-after photos. They’re not a problem to solve,
and their worth isn’t up for a vote based on how strangers react in grocery store lighting (the harshest lighting known to humankind).

From a public-health perspective, that matters. Research and advocacy groups in the U.S. consistently point out that stigmaespecially around disability,
visible difference, and chronic conditionscreates real barriers: social isolation, discrimination, and unequal access to opportunities.
It’s not just “mean comments.” It’s a system that quietly decides who gets to be seen as capable, desirable, employable, or safe.

Why Portrait Photography Can Change Bias Faster Than a Lecture

A lecture can teach facts. A portrait can interrupt reflexes.

Here’s what powerful portraiture does when it’s done ethically and collaboratively:

• It slows down snap judgments. A thoughtful portrait encourages looking with context, not with assumptions.
• It returns agency. The subject isn’t “captured.” They’re presented on their terms, with their words.
• It normalizes variety. The more we see different bodies and faces, the less “different” they feel.
• It teaches better manners. Not “don’t look,” but “look like a human being.”

The result is a softer landing for everyone who lives with visible differenceand a reality check for the rest of us:
your comfort is not the most important thing in the room.

The 12 Raw Stories: People Who Refuse to Be Reduced to a First Impression

1) Catrin: A Life Rebuilt After the Unthinkable

Catrin’s story begins with a catastrophic accident and the kind of recovery that isn’t a montageit’s a long, exhausting, day-by-day fight.
Her appearance changed dramatically, and so did the way strangers treated her. But her story doesn’t stop at survival.
She talks about rebuilding confidence, reclaiming public space, and turning stares into teachable moments.
Her portrait doesn’t say “look what happened.” It says, “I’m still hereand I’m driving the conversation now.”

2) Tulsi: When Survival Isn’t the End of the Story

Tulsi lived through a traumatic event as a child and carried visible reminders afterward. Growing up meant dealing with cruelty,
assumptions, and people who confused scars with a reason to underestimate her. She describes the pain of being judged before she even spoke
and the slow, stubborn work of deciding her value wasn’t negotiable. The rawest part of her story is not what she endured,
but how she kept building a life anyway, even when the world tried to shrink it.

3) Ashley & Elara: Parenting With a Body That Doesn’t Fit the “Default Settings”

This story is a reminder that disability and difference don’t cancel out joythey just change logistics.
Ashley navigates motherhood with limb difference, and the portrait captures something rare: the everyday reality that’s often ignored.
There are practical adaptations, yes, but also laughter and tendernessand an insistence that “capable” has more than one shape.
The message is clear: families don’t need perfection; they need love, creativity, and a little bit of humor when life gets clumsy.

4) Shelby: “Please Don’t Call Me Inspirational for Existing”

Shelby lives with a physical disability (including mobility needs) and says what many disabled people wish they could print on a T-shirt:
“I’m not your motivational quote.” She pushes back against the “inspiration” stereotype, because it sounds like praise
while quietly treating disabled life as automatically tragic. Her portrait and words ask for something more respectful:
see disabled people as whole humansambitious, funny, flawed, tired, brilliantnot as lessons.

5) Hannah: More Than a Diagnosis

Hannah lives with a rare genetic condition and has dealt with judgment that comes from ignorance dressed up as “curiosity.”
Her story insists on nuance: yes, difference can be hard, but it doesn’t erase kindness, strength, compassion, or humor.
She talks about wanting a world where uniqueness is met with respect, not ridiculeand where people aren’t reduced to medical labels.
The heart of her message: “I’m a person first, always.”

6) Cheryl: Scars as a Biography, Not a Warning Label

Cheryl was born with a congenital skin condition and has lived with visible marks and medical interventions.
For years, she tried to manage other people’s reactionscovering up, bracing herself, rehearsing explanations.
Then motherhood changed the stakes: she didn’t want her children to learn shame by watching her shrink.
Her portrait is the moment she stops hiding. Not because the world suddenly got nicerbecause she decided she deserved peace anyway.

7) Sylvia: The Long Road from Nicknames to Self-Respect

Sylvia grew up with facial differences that classmates turned into nicknameslittle words that can echo for decades.
She describes feeling isolated and ashamed, and how those feelings damaged relationships and confidence.
The turning point wasn’t a magical compliment; it was becoming a parent and asking herself what example she wanted to set.
Her story is about choosing visibility: stepping into the world as herself, not as a version designed to make strangers comfortable.

8) Christina: Living with Eye Conditionsand Refusing to Disappear

Christina’s story includes lifelong eye challenges and later skin changes that drew stares and questions.
Instead of retreating, she reframes those moments as opportunities to educatewhen she has the energy, and on her own terms.
Over time, confidence becomes less about “fixing” what others see and more about deciding that her self-worth isn’t up for debate.
The portrait carries that quiet power: not defiance for show, but acceptance that doesn’t ask permission.

9) Raiche: The Cost of Being Seenand the Strength of Being Known

Raiche’s story speaks to the emotional math of visibility: how much effort it takes to walk into a room and feel people scanning your face
for an explanation. She describes learning to separate her identity from other people’s discomfortand to surround herself with people who
connect with her, not with a rumor about her. It’s a story about boundaries, community, and choosing relationships where curiosity comes with care.

10) Hattie: A Childhood That Grew Up Under a Microscope

Hattie’s story focuses on growing up with visible difference at the age when kids can be brutally honest and adults can be awkwardly silent.
She talks about the exhausting routine of being watchedsometimes with pity, sometimes with fascination, sometimes with outright cruelty.
And then, slowly, she finds her own voice: the ability to correct people, to laugh when she wants, to refuse conversation when she doesn’t,
and to be more than a “case study” in someone else’s day.

11) Sassy: Choosing Confidence Even When the World Keeps Interrupting

Sassy’s story highlights a truth that doesn’t get enough airtime: confidence isn’t a personality traitit’s a practice.
She describes the constant interruptions: stares, invasive questions, unsolicited advice, and the pressure to perform “bravery.”
Over time, she crafts a different kind of confidenceone that allows softness and frustration and humor.
Her portrait feels like a boundary in photo form: “You can look, but you don’t get to own my story.”

12) Erika: Grief, Surgeries, and the People Who Learn New Ways to Love You

Erika’s story includes repeated medical challengescycles of loss, treatment, uncertainty, and adaptation.
What stands out is her emphasis on support systems: the friends and family who don’t vanish when life gets complicated,
who learn new ways to connect and communicate, and who affirm beauty even on the hard days.
Her portrait doesn’t pretend any of this is easy. It shows the courage of continuingtogether.

How to “Change the Conversation” in Real Life (Without Being Weird About It)

Want to be part of the solution? Here are simple, human rules that should honestly be printed on receipts:

• Don’t ask “what happened?” If someone wants to share, they will. Your curiosity is not an emergency.
• Compliment like a normal person. “You look great” beats “You’re so brave” 99% of the time.
• Talk to the person, not the difference. Eye contact, not gawking. Conversation, not interrogation.
• If you mess up, apologize briefly and move on. Don’t make them comfort you about your discomfort.
• Teach kids early. Kids stare because they’re learning. Adults stare because they never did.

The goal isn’t to pretend difference doesn’t exist. The goal is to stop treating it like a public event that requires commentary.

Extra: on the Lived Experience Behind “Changing the Conversation”

If you’ve never been stared at for something you can’t take off, it’s hard to describe the feeling accurately. It’s not always anger.
Sometimes it’s fatiguelike carrying a backpack that refills itself every time someone whispers, points, or does that “quick glance” that
is somehow never quick.

People with visible differences often become accidental managers of other people’s emotions. They’re expected to reassure strangers,
answer personal questions, laugh off awkward comments, and still remain “inspiring.” That’s a full-time job with terrible benefits.
Even on good days, it can feel like your face enters the room before you do.

Clothing becomes strategy. Lighting becomes strategy. Seating in restaurants becomes strategy (“Do I pick the corner so I’m not surrounded by eyes?”).
Photos become complicated. Some people avoid cameras for yearsnot because they don’t want memories, but because they don’t want proof of how the world
treats them. Others take the opposite route: they claim the camera on purpose, flooding the timeline with their real face until the internet
runs out of shock.

That’s why Setia’s project lands so hard. It doesn’t ask the subjects to perform perfection. It lets them be mixed: confident and scared, proud and tired,
funny and furious. It treats them as the authors of their own narrative instead of the subject of someone else’s curiosity.

There’s also something powerful about how these stories intersect with family. Several participants talk about becoming parents and suddenly
seeing themselves through a new lens: “What do my kids learn if I hide?” Parenting can force a confrontation with shame that you’ve been carrying for years.
Not because kids demand it, but because kids deserve honesty. And sometimes the most radical form of self-love is modeling it for someone small
who’s watching you like you’re the blueprint for what a person is allowed to be.

The biggest takeaway isn’t “everyone should feel beautiful every day.” That’s not realistic for anyone. The takeaway is simpler and more humane:
people deserve to exist without explanation. They deserve to take up space without paying an emotional fee. They deserve to be photographed
without being turned into a metaphor. And the rest of us? We can start changing the conversation by acting like a person’s body is not a topic
we’re entitled to discussunless they invite us in.