My identities as an agender survivor of polyvictimization working in anti-violence settles a lot more comfortably onto my awkward bones when I return again and again to asking what consent means to me and my partners. I never assume the answer is static or as frozen...
Summer’s scorch was stunning. Nationwide, we saw protests ignite to honor the lives of George Floyd, Tony McDade, Toyin Salau, and the hundreds of thousands of other Black people who have been killed by police in American history. An energy emerged to not just defund...
The bathroom door was shut tightly, more to keep me in than keep anything else out. Grief was a groundswell of embodied emotion I didn’t trust myself to touch. Certainly not in wide open spaces. I needed to feel contained in a moment when I couldn’t trust my own bones...
A queer epic fantasy author I enjoy, KA Doore, recently asked on Twitter: Tired of being discouraged. How does one get recouraged?— K.A. Doore (@KA_Doore) March 31, 2020 They wrote from a place of radical vulnerability that gave me pause. It seems our feeds,...
“It feels like the world is ending,” my partner said to me with a voice softened with grief and love. It’s a sentiment I’ve held in my heart alongside many others, not always said the same way but always speaking in subtly resilient languages...
