Retrophiliac

It’s been a challenging stretch lately, and I want to be honest about it. I sent over 100 postcards to businesses as part of a campaign, hoping to spark interest and build connections, but unfortunately, it didn’t yield the results I was hoping for. Despite all the effort, there wasn’t much response, and it left me feeling a bit discouraged. I’ve also run ads with minimal results and faced some tough criticism online about my pricing. On top of that, I’ve had to deal with counterfeit versions of my items being sold, which is incredibly frustrating when I’ve put so much work into my designs. I’ve placed orders for large batches of 100 pins, along with the mold fees, only to see little to no return or interest. Last year, I had a brief viral moment that inflated my numbers, but I haven’t been able to recapture that level of attention or momentum. It’s tough when you put so much into a product and see minimal results, but I’m not giving up. I know that building something meaningful takes time, and while the results may not always be immediate, I trust that the right people will find my work. I am deeply dedicated to the disabled, neurodivergent, and queer communities, and it truly hurts me that I’m not able to do more for these groups, whether through philanthropic ventures or donating more products. I wish I could be in a position to contribute more, but I’m simply not there yet, and it weighs on me. That said, I know my work still has value, and I’ll keep pushing forward for the communities that matter most to me. I truly do appreciate the positive responses I receive—they mean the world to me, especially when it feels like I’m struggling to ensure I can look after myself and reinvest into my brand. Your encouragement helps me push through the tougher moments, and it reminds me that the work I’m doing does matter. Word of mouth is incredibly powerful, and I’m grateful for those who continue to share what I’m doing. Your support genuinely makes a difference, and it’s what keeps me moving forward. Thank you to everyone who has stood by me—your belief in this journey means a lot.

I’ve been thinking a lot about something that’s not easy for me to say, but I feel it’s important to speak up. This isn’t about wanting credit or recognition—it’s about setting a standard for what disabled people deserve in terms of acknowledgment and respect for our contributions. We deserve so much more than the minimum. It’s not about being entitled—it’s about ensuring that our voices are heard, our work is valued, and we are seen as equals in every space. For too long, disabled people’s contributions have been overlooked, and it’s time that changes. It’s time that we stop settling for less, and instead, we create an environment where we are not only acknowledged but truly appreciated for what we bring to the table. I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to point this out. It makes me anxious to speak up, but I know it’s necessary. By raising this issue, I hope to help set a new standard—not just for myself, but for all disabled people. We should never have to fight for what should already be ours. We deserve acknowledgment that goes beyond the minimum, and it’s time to make that the norm.

I’m so incredibly upset right now, and I feel like I need to speak out. It’s frustrating and disheartening to be in a position where I have to defend myself against people who justify the theft of my work. For those who think it's okay to support companies like Shein or Temu—companies that blatantly steal designs and exploit workers—I want you to understand something: *they do not care about people*. These businesses don’t care about the disabled community, and they certainly don’t care about integrity. They’re out for one thing and one thing only: profit. At the expense of creators like me, at the expense of workers who are underpaid and overworked, and at the expense of the communities they claim to serve. They’re not about inclusivity or accessibility. They’re about mass-producing products with no respect for the people who create or the people who use them. I’m fighting every single day to build something meaningful and impactful, and I do everything in my power to make my business a positive force for our community. A business that values accessibility, integrity, and ethical practices. That’s why I design everything with care, why I prioritize disability pride and inclusion in every product, and why I support self-employed disabled individuals like myself who need more recognition. It’s exhausting to be confronted with people who think it’s justifiable to support companies that don’t value us. People who overlook the harm they’re causing and choose to turn a blind eye to the ethical consequences. I shouldn’t have to defend myself or my business against this kind of thinking. Theft is theft. Integrity matters. We deserve better than the corporate greed that perpetuates these exploitative systems. Please, do better. Support creators who are trying to make a real difference, and recognize the value of our work. If you care about the disabled community, you’ll understand that integrity isn’t just a luxury—it’s essential. I won’t stop fighting for my work and for all of us. And I will never stop advocating for a world where we can create, live, and work with dignity.

Brands like Shein and Temu may offer quick, cheap items, but their practices often come at a high cost to independent creators and small businesses. When they replicate unique designs without permission, it takes away from artists who’ve poured their heart and values into every piece. For small creators like me, it’s not just about sales—it’s about the integrity and originality of our work, our community, and our mission. Supporting independent artists means championing authenticity and helping our creative communities thrive. 

It’s truly disappointing when someone criticizes the price of my pins, saying they’d rather buy a counterfeit version from mass-produced sites like Shein or Temu. As an autistic, disabled small business owner, every dollar I earn goes toward covering Etsy fees, overhead, rent, and the cost of production—long before I can even begin to make a profit or reinvest in my business. I pour my heart and integrity into every design to authentically represent and support the disabled, autistic, neurodivergent, and queer communities. Defending the integrity of my work means staying true to those values and providing thoughtfully crafted, meaningful alternatives to fast-fashion knock-offs. If you believe in supporting creators who are invested in positive change, I encourage you to share my work with your networks, colleagues, and associates. Every bit of visibility helps strengthen our community and makes it possible for businesses like mine to continue serving those we care about.

What is the point of wearing a pin that discloses your disability? Well, oftentimes it could be for the person wearing the pin...!

I've been seeing some talk online lately about people self-identifying their disability or access needs with items like enamel pins, lanyards, or cards attached to lanyards. It's so important to recognize that, for many, this kind of choice is a personal and empowering one. Wearing these symbols isn’t always about making others aware; it’s often more for the individual themselves. These items can be a way of proudly embracing identity, affirming needs, and finding community—especially in spaces that might not be naturally inclusive or accessible. For a lot of us, having a visible marker can reduce the pressure of constantly explaining or justifying our access needs and, sometimes, serves as a gentle reminder to ourselves that we deserve accessibility and accommodations. Self-identifying through these items is also entirely optional; there's no one right way to express (or not express) our disabilities. Whether someone chooses to wear these identifiers or not, it’s a deeply personal choice, and it’s valuable to respect it. If you’re considering using something similar, know it’s okay to wear it for yourself—no explanations needed.

🌟 Let’s talk about pricing! 🌟 My enamel pins are priced at $14 CAD (around $10 USD) + shipping. While I know affordability can be a consideration, this pricing supports the production of unique designs that celebrate disability and LGBTQIA2+ pride. It also allows me to reinvest in new designs suggested by you, my customers, and helps me look after myself, my mom (who helps me occasionally), and my cat. Recently, I shared: "Just because I can’t afford something doesn’t negate its worth." Small business owners like me aren’t big corporations—I’m a one-person operation, and each sale goes a long way in supporting what I do. Thank you for supporting Retrophiliac, whether you’re here to shop, share, or simply follow along. Your encouragement means the world. 💖

Art theft is devastating for me as an autistic artist who relies on my designs to make a living. When I see my creations stolen and posted on sites like Shein, Temu, and eBay without my consent, it truly hurts. I’ve dedicated my time, energy, and creativity to each piece, only to have them taken without acknowledgment or payment. This theft isn’t just a loss of credit—it affects my sales directly, and as an independent artist, those losses are significant. For someone like me, whose career path is limited by accessibility barriers, creating and selling art isn’t just a passion—it’s a means of self-sufficiency. Art theft takes that away, undermining the value of my work and making it harder for me to sustain myself. My designs are more than images—they represent my efforts to advocate for disability pride and create a supportive, inclusive community. This is how I earn my living, and I deserve to be fairly compensated and respected for that. Please, support artists directly instead of purchasing stolen designs on these platforms. It makes a huge difference.

As an autistic person, self-employment is vital to my wellbeing. Designing and selling disability pride products, communication tools, and inclusive items allows me to create on my own terms, with the flexibility I need. Some people get upset or don’t understand the importance of this work, but I can’t—and won’t—try to appease everyone. What matters most is that I’m advocating for my community and building a path that truly supports my needs and values.