“Staying Strong” Isn’t a Feeling—It’s a Choice: Cera Moreno on Her Vitiligo Diagnosis
When Cera Moreno first noticed patches of vitiligo appearing on her hand three years ago, it felt like another challenge in a year already weighed down with uncertainty. Over the previous few years, she had navigated her father’s illness, the end of a long-term relationship, and a demanding job transition. What once felt like unbreakable confidence began to fray, and this unexpected change to her body challenged everything she had known.
Cera’s life was built on discipline, focus, and a relentless drive to excel—whether it was 14 years as a competitive gymnast, cheering in college, or standing in front of a line of students as a law enforcement officer and firearms instructor. Her career requires visible confidence: steady posture, clear instruction, and hands that lead with authority. So when vitiligo spread across her arms and hands, it amplified a level of self-awareness she’d never before experienced. She found herself hiding her hands, avoiding certain clothes, and moving through spaces with a fear of being noticed for all the wrong reasons.
Teaching became a delicate balance between competence and vulnerability—an internal conversation about whether people were seeing her or just her skin. But through steady commitment to showing up, encouragement from loved ones, and small moments of intentional courage, Cera began to shift her relationship with herself. What she discovered was this: true confidence isn’t born from always feeling strong—it’s born from choosing to show up anyway, fully present in your own skin.
This is the story of how Cera learned to show up in the same spaces, but with a new kind of confidence—one still in the making.
Living Dappled’s Interview with Cera Moreno
Living Dappled Founder Erika Page interviewed Cera Moreno about her diagnosis and life with vitiligo as a firearms instructor—where leadership and strength felt at odds with the vulnerability of her condition. This interview has been edited for flow, clarity, and brevity.
Name: Cera Moreno
Age: 31
Hometown: Sacramento Area
Years with vitiligo: 3
Living Dappled (LD): We always like to start with who you are—not what your skin looks like. Tell us a little about yourself.
Cera Moreno (CM): My name is Cera. I’m 31 years old and I live in the Sacramento area, where I’ve spent almost my entire life. I work full-time in law enforcement and part-time as a firearms instructor for my department.
At my core, I genuinely care about people. I’ve always been someone who wants to make others smile, bring light into heavy moments, and create real, meaningful connections. I’m deeply empathetic, very direct—but always with kindness—and I have a bubbly, outgoing personality. I love getting to know people on a deeper level and understanding their stories.
I’m also someone who has spent most of my life chasing excellence. I was a competitive gymnast for 14 years and later a college cheerleader, which deeply shaped how I viewed myself, my body, and what it meant to be “perfect.” That mindset followed me into adulthood, into my career in law enforcement, and eventually into my vitiligo journey.
LD: What does a typical week look like for you—work, people, and the things that fill your cup?
CM: My life is busy, but it’s full. I work in law enforcement and as a firearms instructor—roles that require focus, discipline, and responsibility. The work is demanding, both physically and mentally, but it’s also deeply meaningful to me. I work four days a week in 10-hour shifts, though those days can stretch to 16 hours. In a typical month, I might also teach firearms five to six times, depending on training needs.
Outside of work, I’m very intentional with how I spend my time. I love working out, horseback riding, and photography. Those hobbies allow me to slow down, be present, and reconnect with myself in a world that often moves too fast.
When I’m not working or enjoying my hobbies, I’m with my family, friends, my significant other, and my puppy. They remind me who I am beyond titles or appearances. Those relationships are my reset, my peace, and my reminder of what truly matters.
Every week looks a little different and often comes with its own chaos and challenges, but at the core of my life is a commitment to investing in relationships, purpose, and self-growth—and, of course, making sure there’s plenty of laughter, fun, and smiles along the way.
LD: Let’s talk about your journey with vitiligo—what was it like when you were first diagnosed with vitiligo?
CM: The spots first appeared about three years ago, starting on my hand. Since then, they’ve spread to my arms, down my sides, and more recently to my legs and the backs of my knees.
When vitiligo first showed up, I was already going through a really difficult season of life. Within a short period of time, my dad became sick, I went through a breakup after a ten-year relationship, and I transitioned into a new, high-demand position at work. I felt completely lost and overwhelmed. I didn’t understand why this was happening to me.
I started seeing doctors, researching treatments, and desperately wanting my pigmentation back. At first, I hated my spots. I didn’t know how to answer people’s questions—whether they were coming from friends, family, or complete strangers—asking what was “wrong.” I began hiding my hands, avoiding certain clothes, and even changing how I moved in public so no one would notice. Fear and insecurity took over, and my confidence slowly started to fade.
LD: What felt hardest during that time—especially as someone in such a visible, leadership-driven career?
CM: Being a firearms instructor played a huge role in my experience with vitiligo. Teaching is incredibly visible. Your hands, your stance, your posture—everything is being watched during demonstrations. I became hyper-aware of every movement.
I love teaching people, especially empowering smaller women. I’m one of the 3 female range masters on my 12-person team, and one of the youngest. I’m confident in my skills and teaching abilities—but suddenly that confidence started to deteriorate because I was so focused on whether people were noticing my spots.
I kept wondering: Are they looking at my hands instead of listening to me? Are they seeing my vitiligo before they see me as a leader? In leadership roles, credibility and confidence matter so much, and navigating that internal battle was incredibly difficult.
There were also moments that really hurt. I had people shy away from physical correction during training because they didn’t understand vitiligo. Teaching firearms is hands-on—you need to physically guide people. And my goal has always been to make my students better than me. When that connection was interrupted, it was heartbreaking.
Even in my law enforcement role, especially during summer when my spots were more visible, I noticed people hesitate to shake my hand, which has the most depigmentation. Those moments stayed with me.
LD: In the middle of all of that, what helped you keep going? What did you cling to?
CM: One thing my parents have always told me—something that has carried me through my hardest days—is to “stay strong.”
My career requires confidence, presence, and leadership under pressure. During my vitiligo journey, that expectation added an unexpected mental layer. Teaching is such a visible role, and there were moments when I became aware of my appearance in ways I never had before.
Despite the internal struggle, I continued to show up professionally. Over time, I learned that strength doesn’t mean ignoring vulnerability—it means regulating it and choosing to move forward anyway. The phrase “stay strong” took on a deeper meaning. It meant trusting my training, grounding myself in the moment, and allowing this experience to build resilience instead of diminish it.
Vitiligo reshaped my understanding of leadership. I realized confidence isn’t about perfection or appearance—it’s about presence, self-acceptance, and the courage to show up fully, even on difficult days. Vitiligo didn’t take anything away from my ability to lead. If anything, it strengthened it.
LD: Was there a moment that shifted how you saw yourself or your skin?
CM: Yes—one moment stands out more than any other. I was at a nail salon with my two best friends. I showed one of them the new spots on my hands, explaining my diagnosis with a shaky voice and a forced smile.
Without hesitation, she reached over, gently took my hands, traced the shapes of my spots, and said, “Cera, they’re so cute. They’re so unique—just like you. They fit you perfectly.”
Something inside me shifted. For the first time, I didn’t see my skin as something to hide, but as something that told a story—my story. Sitting there, I felt exposed and vulnerable, still trying to understand vitiligo myself. But in that moment, I felt seen instead of judged.
The fear didn’t disappear overnight, but the shame did. I stopped seeing my spots as something that disrupted my identity and started seeing them as part of it. That moment gave me permission to stop trying to fix myself and begin the work of accepting myself.
LD: How did you continue building confidence after that shift?
CM: Looking back, it wasn’t one big moment—it was a series of small, intentional steps. I started wearing clothes I once avoided. I allowed my hands to be visible. I stood confidently in spaces that once felt intimidating.
I also started sharing my story with more family and friends. Their support gave me confidence I didn’t even realize I needed.
Education played a huge role too. Learning what vitiligo actually is helped quiet so much fear and self-blame. And community mattered just as much—finding others who truly understood what I was feeling reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
LD: You mentioned community. What were you looking for when you began seeking one—and what did you find?
CM: Growing up as a competitive gymnast and later a college cheerleader, perfection was deeply ingrained in me. Gymnastics was about perfect scores and perfect execution. Cheerleading emphasized appearance—the “California cheerleader” look, flawless skin, hair, and makeup.
When vitiligo entered my life, I saw it as an imperfection that disrupted an image I had spent my entire life trying to maintain. I wanted to challenge that narrative. My social feeds were full of women with “perfect” skin, and I wanted to see people like me—women living confidently with vitiligo.
That’s when I found Living Dappled on Instagram. It felt like finding home. For the first time, I saw stories that reflected my fears, my growth, and my experiences. Seeing others live fully and confidently with vitiligo gave me the strength to stop hiding. I realized there was beauty, courage, and identity in these spots.
LD: We’re so glad you’re here, too. Alongside community, your personal support system matters deeply. What has that looked like for you?
CM: My support system means everything to me. This journey hasn’t been easy—I’ve had breakdowns, moments of anger, and days when I didn’t want to look in the mirror. But I’ve also had the privilege of being surrounded by incredible people who reminded me of my worth.
My parents, family, friends, and my significant other have been my foundation. My friends normalized my experience and celebrated me. My partner showed me steady love and reassurance, especially on days when my confidence wavered. And my family has been unwavering—holding me when I cried and cheering me on when I stood tall. However, my parents have been my constant. They quietly reminded me to stay strong on days I felt unsure, and celebrated me loudly as I learned to embrace who I am. My mom saw my strength before I did, holding space for my tears while gently reminding me of my beauty (inside and out) on the days I couldn’t see it myself. While my dad always reminded me of my worth and never let me forget who I am in moments of doubt.
One person who played a huge role in my healing is my dear friend Baylee, who’s also a talented photographer. Standing in front of a camera with vitiligo once felt terrifying, but through her patience and artistry, she helped me see myself as beautiful again—capturing not just my skin, but my strength.
LD: Tell us about the photoshoot and what it represents for you.
CM: When I decided to do a photoshoot celebrating my spots, I didn’t have a clear vision. I just knew I wanted to honor both my pain and my growth.
One of the hardest things I’ve experienced is the misconception that vitiligo is contagious. People have avoided touching me or even shaking my hand. Those moments hurt deeply—but they also taught me resilience.
On the other side of that rejection are moments of love—when the people closest to me gently trace my spots with their fingers, like following the lines of a map. In those moments, I feel safe. I feel seen.
That inspired the shoot. I asked my cousin Krista, an incredible artist, to help trace the shapes of my spots. Baylee photographed it all. We outlined them in purple—the color of vitiligo awareness—as a symbol of strength and unity.
These photos aren’t just about vitiligo. They’re about transformation. The lines represent a map of my life—every struggle, silent battle, moment of joy, and triumph. A map shows where you’ve been and how far you’ve come.
How lucky am I that mine is written on my skin? My spots are my map. They are my journey, my courage, and my reminder to stay strong.
