Where Beauty Meets Belonging: A Conversation with Tamika

When you ask Tamika where she’s from, she doesn’t point to a place on a map. She points to a feeling.

Every Friday, she and her mother would stop at a flower market in Petion-Ville to buy a bouquet of lilies. Their fragrance reminded her of her mother’s warmth and gentleness. It’s a ritual Tamika still keeps today, no matter where she lives.

Tamika is Orijin’s creative. She was born in Boston, but didn’t really live in America until recently. Her childhood unfolded in the mountains of Haiti, her teenage and early adult years in Canada, and she even spent two years in Eastern Europe. Yet through all that movement, she’s always known where she belongs.

The Feeling of Home

Q: Where are you from?

That’s always been a complicated question for me. I was born in Boston, but I didn’t really live in America until recently. My childhood unfolded in the mountains of Haiti, my teenage and early adult years in Canada, and I even spent two years in Eastern Europe before returning to the United States. So, where am I from?

For a long time, I didn’t know how to answer. I carried a quiet sense of impostor syndrome. I never fully felt from one place or another. But over time, I realized that where I’m from isn’t a dot on a map, it’s a feeling. I am from Haiti. That’s where my truest sense of belonging lives.

Q: What’s a scent, texture, or sensation that connects you to home or your upbringing?

The scent of fresh flowers always brings me home. I grew up in the mountains with my mother, surrounded by a lush garden where every petal seemed to breathe life into the air. After long days in the city we would drive from my school, Saint-Rose de Lima (Lalu), all the way up to the mountains where I’d come home and inhale the mix of freshness and floral perfume. The scent of flowers and the fresh scent of the Haitian mountains is something that deeply connects me to my upbringing.

My mother loves flowers. Every Friday, we’d stop at a flower market in Petion-Ville to buy a bouquet of lilies. A ritual I still keep until this day. Their fragrance reminds me of her warmth and gentleness.

Over time, I realized that where I’m from isn’t a dot on a map, it’s a feeling. I am from Haiti. That’s where my truest sense of belonging lives.

Beauty as Inheritance

Q: Who taught you how to care for yourself… your body, your skin, your spirit? What did they teach you?

My mother was my first teacher when it came to self-care. She showed me that taking care of yourself is an act of love—both for yourself and others. I remember watching her melt raw shea butter, mix in a few drops of perfume, and use it to moisturize her skin. It was simple but creative, and it taught me that beauty can come from everyday things.

My grandmother, on the other hand, taught me the old ways. She’d share recipes from her youth. Kitchen ingredients (egg whites, olive oil, salt, avocados, honey, bananas, turmeric) became my first lessons in herbal skincare. When I struggled with acne as a teen, her traditions grounded me in the art of creating with what I already had. Those lessons planted the seed for how I view self-care today: as something inventive, and deeply personal.

Q: Are there any botanicals, ingredients, or remedies from your culture or family that you remember? Do you still use them today?

Every Haitian must have pure Haitian castor oil at home. Not the kind you find at the store, but the kind that smells rich and earthy, pressed by hand on a small farm. We Haitians believe that it is the remedy for everything: hair growth, colds, muscle aches, and skin nourishment, headaches, heartbreak, you name it.

Finding Her Way Back

Q: How has your relationship with beauty or skincare evolved over time? Has your culture influenced that evolution?

I’ve always leaned toward natural products and simple routines rather than commercial skincare. I started off by making skincare in my mother’s kitchen as a teenager. Then, I took a course in skincare formulation (Formula Botanica) and learned to use more refined ingredients like oils, butters and essential oils.

It’s only when I started my business, that I realized that we were creating what I had always wanted but couldn’t find on the shelves. Skincare products that feel safe, cultural, and meant for women who looked like me in a world that I struggled to find belonging.

For me, skincare is more than self-care. It’s deeply personal and even more powerful when done with intention. I like to think there’s a difference between simply doing your skincare routine and feeling it, as if you were pouring energy back into yourself.

Q: Was there a time when you felt disconnected from your culture’s beauty practices or traditions? How did you find your way back?

I felt that disconnection most acutely when I lived in Canada. Coming from the Caribbean… so colorful, vibrant, and alive… the long winters felt monochrome. The snow, the coats, the gray buildings, it all dulled something inside me.

That’s when I began intentionally bringing color and culture into my space. When I moved out of home into my first apartment, I inherited a collection of Haitian art that we used to have at home and truly understood the meaning of curating your space. Details like Haitian art, food, experiencing Haitian joy through music, tropical plants and practicing self-care rituals became my home. I realized I could carry my warmth with me. No matter how far I am from my culture.

Tam’s Skincare Ritual

I typically start my routine in the shower. I use the Hibiscus Powder under the water, wash my face, and leave it on while I shower and exfoliate with my handmade body scrub. Then I rinse it all off.

When I step out, I follow up with the Jasmine Essence, focusing on the red areas on my face. Call me greedy, but I love to layer a second toner, especially with the Hibiscus Mist. Once I’m done with all of that, I seal in all that goodness with the Hibiscus Nectar face oil.

That’s my skincare routine for my face. The next important step is hydrating my body with my handmade body butter. And then we’re done.

Ritual vs Routine

Q: When do you feel most at home in yourself, most grounded, most you?

I feel most at home when I’m surrounded by things I’ve created—hand made body butters and hair oils, plants like the ones I grew up with or nostalgic objects like Haitian art on the walls, candles burning softly, the faint scent of flowers in the air.

I also find grounding in ritual. Lighting incense, making tea, or taking time for my skincare… all of these moments help me pause and reconnect. They remind me to breathe, to slow down, and to find peace in the present moment.

Q: Describe your relationship with beauty and how it’s evolved.

I’ve always felt a deep calling toward beauty, not just in appearance, but in the details of life that often go unnoticed. There’s beauty in stillness, in care, and in the moments we choose to be present. That’s why, when we created Orijin, the idea of ritual felt essential.

When we first launched, the word “ritual” felt almost too spiritual, too intimate. But over time, I realized that’s exactly what made it powerful. A routine is something you do; a ritual is something you feel. One moves on autopilot, the other brings you back to yourself. It invites you to slow down, breathe, and truly see the beauty that’s already around you.

Q: Does caring for your skin connect you to that feeling of home or belonging?

Completely. I think after my culture, my skin is what I identify with the most. So, caring for it and beautifying it brings me a sense of pride. It connects me to my heritage, my femininity, and the women who came before me. My skincare is a form of love, a reminder that I am worthy of care, time, and tenderness.

The Threads that Connect

Q: If you had to describe your origin story in a few sentences, not where you were born, but what and who made you, what would you say?

I’ve lived in many places, in Haiti, Canada, Eastern Europe, and now the United States, but what defines me isn’t movement. It’s rootedness.

My culture is my compass, my spiritual anchor. I was shaped by movement, culture, and the women who came before me. My roots trace back to the mountains of Haiti, where beauty was woven into everyday life and self-care was an act of love. My mother and grandmother taught me to create with what I had, to see magic in simplicity. Everything I am today is a reflection of their lessons in resilience, warmth, and intentional living.

It’s what keeps me centered no matter where I go. Through every transition, I carry the essence of Haiti with me.