The name emé

emé is the name of my mother’s aunt —
the woman who raised her and shaped much of who she became.
She passed away around the time I was born, so I never met her.

Yet her presence has always been there.

Through my mother, her knowledge, her way of being, and her quiet strength were passed on.
In that inherited wisdom, I often found calm, grounding, and a sense of safety — long before I had words for it.

In Ethiopia, emé is also a term of endearment for “mother.”
It carries the essence of maternal care: steadiness, warmth, protection, and the ability to hold space without needing to explain.

emé stands for that kind of presence.
A calm strength.
A quiet attentiveness.
A form of care that is felt rather than taught.

With emé, I carry this lineage forward —
through tea, through guidance, and through the spaces I create.
As an invitation to slow down, to feel held, and to return to what is essential.