I remember the first time my great grandmother was really sick; I walked into her hospital room and tried as hard as I could not to cry. I was shocked by the breathing tubes the doctors had her hooked up to. Her vibrant glow, which had been a pillar of the first twelve years of my life, was clouded by exhaustion, and she was pale - as white as a ghost.
But, even then, my Grammy’s golden heart necklace sat below the nape of her neck. It caught a glimmer of light and illuminated her whole face.
When Nargis Fakhri lost her father to alcoholism, her mother to domestic violence and for years her sister to drug addiction she was faced with two choices: crawl into a hole and cry, or take the emotional battle on with her fists up and ready to fight. The result has been nothing short of extraordinary.