Own your story. Don’t let it own you.
I wrote this note to myself on February 2016, as I was uncovering layers of my complicated story. But the credit of “owning our story” goes entirely to my daughter Jade, from a day back in 2010.
When my daughter was five, we were sitting around the dinner table having one of those important family talks—the kind where someone brings up what it feels like to be different. One of us said, “Yeah, I know we’re kind of different.”
My daughter didn’t seem to be paying attention. She got up with her plate, headed to the sink, and casually shouted, “OWNAGE!”
I remember seeing the back of her little head, confidently striding and un-phased. Which of-course made us laugh.
She meant to say “Own it,” quoting the hippo Gloria from Madagascar, her favorite movie back then. But what came out was something even better.
Ownage.
We didn’t correct her. We embraced it. And it stuck.
I share this story in my book Three Makes Baby, in the section on helping kids understand and navigate social differences.
Recently, someone told me that ownage has become a word in their family too. They read the story in the book and started using it to talk about embracing what makes them unique.
That’s the beauty of a word born from truth. It spreads.
In our family, it came to mean something deeper than just confidence. It was about standing in who we are. It was about loving our story even if it’s complicated, even if it made us feel different.
That’s where the words “Own your story. Don’t let it own you.” came from.
Not because I’d mastered it—but because I had spent years on the other side of it.
My story owned me for a long time—through silence, shame, and a quiet sense of being different. Being adopted. Struggling with infertility.
I remember being at a party once, talking about my book, when a woman quietly leaned in and said, “I’m adopted too.”
She hadn’t told many people. I hadn’t known. But something about sharing my story opened something in her, just enough to speak hers. And in that moment, I saw the power of telling the truth.
Because when we own our stories, we give other people permission to do the same.
I’m here because I’ve lived this.
And I believe your story, no matter how complicated, different, or quietly carried, is worth honoring.
So here’s to ownage.
To the misheard words that somehow say exactly what we need.
To the stories we carry.
And the day we decide to carry them with pride and make meaning out of our struggle.
xo,
Jana
Learn ways to own your story too with my guidance as a professional. I offer evidence-based support from someone who has worked with tens of thousands of people in family building. I’ve also lived non-traditional family life for over 50 years!
