writers – queer vegan adventures

anne rice helped me find my superpowers

December 14, 2021December 28, 2021Tagged adventure, adventures, anne rice, bell hooks, gender, queer, queer vegan adventures, queer writers, relationships, teachers, vegan, writers1 Comment

it is that time of year again, the season of the winter solstice. this year i really want to come into it much more prepared, to be more intentional with it than just a quick meditation, light a candle, and welcome the light to come. so i have been contemplating what it is i need to let go of to bring in what i want to move deeper into my life.

so, a couple of days ago i woke from my dreams with many things from my past that i can now see differently and therefore can let go of and also celebrate. i woke energized and charged with a sense of direction as i moved through my newish ways of beginning my days. all the things i do before i allow myself to touch devices that bring in the outside world. on this particular day, the first piece of news i read was that anne rice had transitioned from this world. she was 80 years old. she had a stroke. that was the only piece of news i read then as my mind was only full of all the ways the works of this writer had influenced my life, perhaps in ways i am just beginning to understand.

i don’t remember where i found her, but i think it was at a used book store. the first book i read was…well honestly i can’t remember if it was queen of the damned or her first book on her family of witches. when i find a writer that brings parts of me alive, i just start reading everything they have ever written. i do know that i read the vampire books, not in order. and yes, i did read her books under other names. books that were categorized on different degrees of erotica. books that were about so much more than sex, but about all the different ways we people can relate and potential reasons one may want to. eyes were open. mind was blown.

i stumbled on this writer, already popular in the gay community, as i was coming out and trying to understand what that meant. i knew it couldn’t be just about who i slept with or how i was when i was in a relationship or my love for vampires and witches. there had to be more to it than that. it was way before i would understand just how much i want to tear down the binaries of well everything. it was her writing more than anything else i was reading at the time, especially gay and lesbian writers, that being queer could mean that i moved and viewed the world with a different lens. that being queer is a type of superpower i can use when moving through the world. that by breaking this binary into pieces the world could explode in color, sound, smells, tastes, bodily sensations….the sensations are limitless.

her characters, no matter what realm they existed in, lived deeply. the ones who, at first seemed weak or vulnerable, were actually the strong ones, the ones who carried the others in challenging and difficult times. she showed that we, that i could hold these contradictions all at the same time. the way she wrote these characters into being inspired me to go outside of my comfort zones to find deeper more lasting comfort. not some false sense of security that capitalism offers. she helped me understand why i could not find comfort in the ways that i was told would bring joy and success. and that i am the only one who knows how to find them.

i have always been a type of loner. i deeply enjoy doing things by myself, but i think it was her characters that gave me permission to do the perceived dangerous things alone. i would go out dancing, alone to meet my friends. i would dance and dance…learning to express my young newly queer self. i would leave a happy sweaty mess. if it was one of those fortunate nights where the dj spun just the right tunes that i left exhausted and high from the beat and rhythm of it all. i’d leave just before closing and find a place to just walk the back alleys of deep ellum, exposition park, or turtle creek. i would listen to the night winding down. the smells of a hot summer day hopefully cooling down. i’d walk until my heart calmed or i found a fountain to cool myself, then i’d drive to a parking garage, climb to some rooftop, an abandoned building, or an empty construction site. anywhere that i could get up above it all and watch the sunrise, usually with the cure in the tape deck of my car as the soundtrack of the moment. i’d sit there with sweat still dripping down my neck, my shirt soaked, my muscles wrung out, happy. once the sun would hit my face, i would get up to face what was next. usually, a shower to get to class, maybe a breakfast date, hopefully, sleep.

but i think it was her characters that gave me permission to do this alone, and then later backpacking and bike touring solo. the things i’ve been told weren’t safe for women to do not just by themselves, but without men. from outdoor adventures to walking or biking my city’s streets alone late at night into the early morning. i did try to go with others a few times, but then i would find out later that they brought weapons to the places i find peace, or they would spend most of the time questioning our relative safety. so, i stopped bringing people with me. if they wanted to meet somewhere, cool, but, nope, i am a solo adventurer with the exception of very few people.

one of the many things i loved about anne rice’s stories is her attention to everything. her depth of research is astounding. when i first read cry to heaven, i could truly imagine the unique sounds that the castrati opera singers performed or the smells of the vienna canals. she was able to find the only recording of one of the last castrati singers ever made and was able to give great detail to the quality and depths of their voices. she could describe places i have been and have lived to such a degree that i knew exactly where she was talking about. i could smell the unique scents in the depths of heat in new orleans as well as the bone-chilling cold that could happen there when temperatures drop and humidity stays high, so i knew i could trust how she described experiences i have never had, and probably never will. she kind of became a new type of history teacher for me before i found howard zinn.

she has also taught me, in very deep levels, that a fascinating person can be very complicated holding deep contradictions in wonderfully beautiful ways. i always knew her as someone who wrote about vampires and children who were vampires and witches and the deep dark nights of mystery and the otherworldly. then one morning i woke in new orleans early, before all my friends that i had road-tripped with, so while they slept i went out for a cup of chicory coffee and walked the garden district. i found a cute bookstore and naturally went in. as i walked around i heard a voice off in the kid’s section, sweet a storytime!? sure was and who was reading to the children who were so enthralled in what was being read to them but the one and only anne rice! i was caught up in this experience as well. how can one go from writing exit to eden to reading to children? we are not meant to be put in boxes and labeled. we can be many things and we can hold many identities all at once. we get to move through this world appreciating and loving so many different aspects of the world around us. it is how i gave myself the space to love going to hear chamber music just as much as i love going to a hardcore punk show or industrial rave. i can love dark goth and energetic dance mixes. i can be complicated and dive into depths that even i don’t understand, and she helped me find those places because she also held that for herself and for her characters. i also learned here to separate the writer from the person, the artist from the human.

there was a point where i stopped reading her. where her stories went to places i was not prepared to go. it happens. i have had this experience with many teachers, and friends. people move to different places, and i found other writers who picked up and helped me find other worlds within me, other worlds to explore. her transition from this world to whatever is next, reminds me how much i am because so many others have risked, have been vulnerable, have challenged the way things are to imagine how things can be, how we can be, how we can relate to one another and live in a way that uplifts the possibilities as opposed to smother and suffocate them.

as i was about to finish this post, i found out that bell hooks also transitioned, then so did e.o. wilson.

i don’t know how to put into words how bell hooks influenced me, my thinking, my education, my time in the university setting, my inability to stay in higher education. two books by bell, teaching to transgress, and all about love influenced me deeply. there are so many common themes in both books. one almost inspired me to be a teacher, but instead helped me move out of institutional education. the other taught me what love could be, how to begin to move this one powerful word from a noun to a verb, inspiring me to also move from being a noun to being a verb.

bell hooks showed me by how she lived and wrote that it is possible, indeed necessary, to live what we affirm, that our lives must be lived as an example of our politics. that my life is not just a theory, but a life to be lived. i could go on and on about how she inspires my to this day on how i look at the world around me. she reminds me that moving into a life that views the world contrary to the institutional lens is a painful transition, that there will be internal and external complications. but there is also great joy especially when we find pals doing the same.

i can not imagine who i would be without so many writers, storytellers, singers and songwriters, movie makers, and artists of all sorts to open up the imagination of brilliant lives. i am forever grateful for all of them, especially the ones i get to call friends, comrades, coconspirators, accomplices, those willing to go down the dark alley, the unknown path to see what there is on the other side….

thank you all for i am much more alive because of every last one of you and that is a gift that can only be repaid by living the dream they inspired in me and to attempt to inspire others to do the same in their way.

may you all enjoy the coming light

beyond asheville

September 15, 2019Tagged adventure, bike, bike touring, biking, climate, hiking, meditation, north carolina, queer, queer vegan adventures, relationships, writers, writing, wtf1 Comment

the pals i stayed with on the west end of north carolina are some of the best people this world has set in my path. we shared good food. we shared lovely inspiring conversation. we shared quiet times on the deck watching trees, the light shift and change, the plants and botony adjusting to the heat, storms roll through, puppy adoration for a canine who is now part of their family, walks in the woods every day witnessing the constint changes of places people think of as consistant. there is something special that happens to this spirit when i see my pals, friends, buddies, those i love, doing what they love/building and achieving their goals: working on building the skills and practicing to make dreams come true, building the life they envision…lifting people up….there is so much here that i have no words for, but i will carry with me for a long long time.

these daily/multi-daily walks/hikes were so inspiring. we chatted about what it is like to walk the same paths on a regular basis through the seasons, to see all the changes. just in this one week we saw a change in where and what mushrooms were growing, or some new flowers starting to bloom on the trees and bushes.

these walks and chats had an enormous effect on me. first i reflected on land and my relationship to place. where have i thought i “knew” the land because i walked it one day in one season in a particular year. was it a wet/dry year? hot? stormy? flooded? low river or high? somewhere in-between? migration season? north or south? for whom? even if it is for a week or a month, it is still only just one snapshot of a place. is that enough to build a relationship with the land or to develop a sense of place. i think that is part of why i do like to get to, and set up, camp early in the day vs. making the miles, passing out, and waking early to start it all over again. to walk. to sit. to listen. to watch. who moves through here? what grows here? how does the pollen move? do i have time and enough information to learn of the people who moved through here before settlers/colonizers/capitalists/agriculture/towns/mining? what story does the land have to tell me? what is the language of the land.

the other piece of this experience is that now i have an even deeper desire to develop a sense of place. i want to be able to see some place if not every day, then every other day. i want to see the changes. i want to see those first red, yellow, orange, brown leaves of fall. the first buds of spring that actually show themselves in winter. learn the path of the sun/moon. i want to build and develop a relationship with at least one little piece of land. town or not wherever i rest again, it has to be convenient to get to some living piece of land. in other words, not have to drive an hour or bike too far. even better if i can just take a short stroll that leads me to a longer one. its all part of learning how to see/listen/experience/smell/noticing…all the things that make me a better animal, more feral you might say.

~~~

one day, while one of them was in class, i borrowed their car and followed the road that followed the river. so beautiful. i went until i found a riverside park that people put their boats, rafts, kayaks, whatevers in to float. there are 2 signs here. one tells the history of how the “cherokee” hid in the rhoadundrum bushes to avoid being sent to the oklahoma indian territories as part of the indian removal act in the journey known as the train of tears. on the other side of the park is a sign acknowledging the white man who “gifted” this land for “the people” to enjoy. it is dedicated to his wife and children who died before he did. it is part of what i find funny (?) about public lands, that what was once stolen from people who had no concept of owning land can be given back to “the people to enjoy” but not to the people who previously lived on the land prior to european settlers/colonizers. public lands is a term that is being tossed around a great deal right now, and not a conversation to take lightly for many reasons. these thoughts are not meant to take away from the beauty of this land, but to add to just how wonderfully magnificent this river valley and mountain range is.

~~~

after wondering around, i went back to the river center. they have wifi and thereby i could get some phone services to know when my friend was ready for me to come on back. i thought i might sit by the river and write, but all i could really do was watch. i watched the people, the rain, the boats, the water shift and move, people practice various moves in various floatations – it is like a dance. ever since i learned that water crossings are best to do earlier in the day because they rise as the snow melts and the mountain gives up more liquid to the stream, i try and watch it and see if i can notice it going up. i mean this is something i have witnessed but through a day as we crossed a stream early in the day to play and picnic in a meadow. when we came back late in the day, the crossing was indeed more difficult, deeper and more swift. for sure a more difficult, more technical crossing where we helped one another work their way back to camp. it indeed was a wonderful day.

leaving north carolina behind would not be easy, but that is the only way i was going to get up to philly for the next friend visit…so stay tuned as you are hopefully engulfing on a summer adventure of your own.

retracing good times

August 21, 2019Tagged adventure, bike, climate, climate change, meditation, queer, queer vegan adventures, queer writers, queers on bikes, relationships, writers, writing2 Comments

as i clean up and insert pics in this post, it is raining the nice specifically pacific northwest kind of rain. you know, it is too heavy to go with out a jacket of some kind but not enough to zip it up. the kind that drives drivers nuts because you can never get the wipers just right, always too slow or too fast.

we had been watching the weather, hoping and getting excited as the chance for rain increased each day. last night we i mused that i felt like a kid a christmas, excited for the morning to see what would happen. then the morning, it happened. while we were out for breakfast. we looked out just as we were about to walk home. so wonderful. and it is suppose to continue through the day.

ok so here i am going to start writing about all the good times that got over shadowed by the challenges and struggles i face, for there was so much fun and laughter, and that is what kept me going….

once i saw thelma and the sleeze where going to be playing at the hanger in carbondale, i was tempted to hang longer. finally some music i love and relate to. but really that was all that was tempting. i was able to eat pretty good at the co-op, but it was time to go. so i bus tailed it outta there.

the overnight in knoxvile, as i have said was fun. the city market area with the art, and food, and bike race monitors, fountains for kids, and being designed as a pedestrain “mall” was super nice. to walk and wonder without having to worry about cars is always a treat.

the walking and wondering with freedom encouraged more walking wondering and exploring. i went up streets, down street. i wondered alleyways and shop windows. all the murals in the alleys led me to more alleys and city perspectives.

i’ve always loved alleys. it reminds me of being a kid. the first house i remember remember as a youngen had an alley. we cut through to friends’ houses, playing hide n seek, check what games friends were playing before they knew we were there. it was also the furthest view point for adults to find us, or for people to think to look for us for any reason. it is also a great way to check on the neighbors’ gardens. then there is the unused, dirt floor garages that no one used except us for shenanigans.

i’ve only had a few homes since that had alleys, but i always enjoy them. portland had some good alleys. wondering pals who enjoy meandering through alley ways are priceless, and it is good to know i have a few.

it seems, based on my little trip, that more cities are utilizing their alleys for more than just a place for dumpsters and smoke breaks. i have found wonderful mural art projects, one might call city art-scapes? i like it. here in eugene google maps often sends seem through alleys. and some store fronts/brewery entry points are in alleys. so good.

so from knoxville, i went to asheville. i made the big decision to stay a week in ashville. it was the week of 4th of july….not a fan of this day of nationalistic celabration especially how nationalism is playing out these days. so i hunkered down in asheville with some international travelers and misfits. also the women’s world cup was entering the final rounds and there are fun places to watch such events here.

the hostel i stayed at is in the heart of downtown, down a narrow alley like street actually. everywhere i went was .4 miles (aka a 20 minute walk) according to google maps. i was near vegan restaurants, a co-op, so many good breweries, coffee shops and 2 tea shops, multiple book stores, music venues, and a vegan punk cafe that was so flipping great on so many levels. it is kind of how i imagine the red and black cafe could have been if they could have held it together better.

rosetta’s, the punk cafe, had an upstairs and a downstairs if you entered on a certain street. the upstairs is at street level one street over. the upstairs is kind of told school order at the counter kind of place with self serve stations and a beautiful copper pipe and tile water station that i wish i had taken a picture of. downstairs is like a regular table service kind of place. both have the same menu.

i had such a hard time deciding what i wanted. everything being vegetarian or vegan, and most things could be made vegan. would it be nachos? comfort food? healthy bowl? salad? or what really sold me on the cafe the pay it forward rice and bean bowl.

the pay it forward bowl, actually called beans and rice under the heading everybody eats, is set up as a sliding scale meal and they let you know how much pays for the meal to what would allow someone else to eat if they didn’t currently have the currency. i think this simplifies the whole sliding scale healthy food and water as a right not privlage kind of action vs. philosophy/theory. it is offering an option to a community while holding boundries that allow them to stay in business without giving up their ethics and values so that they can contribute more. it is a fine line and a tight-rope to walk. also the people who worked there were all super nice and not at all snarky the whole time i was there, everytime i was there, regardless of who they were serving.

then there is the actual setting of the place. great art and murals on the walls, walls and stairway FULL of poster and flyers of events, bands, actions, community groups and organizations, calendars for other places having punk rock trivia fund raisers for trans folks at the southern border needing/wanting leagal or/and basic needs met. a zine library was in a very visable corner next to the condiment stand. it was clean with out being starial. it is a place i felt comfortable in as a dirt-bag and as a cleaned-up kid out for a good meal that wouldn’t make me feel like a sell-out for eating out.

the places i watched the world cup were fun and energetic. i high-fived strangers. we held one anothers palces as we went to the bathroom. we made a group food run when we realized bloody mary’s started before we remembered we hadn’t been awake long enough to eat. it was one of the few times i was around some sporty dykes that felt super comforable to finally talk about our sports-ball experiences while in school. most of us, at least in my age group, we pretty shamed out of sports, especially team sports. may be why i prefered individual sports like track. let me be and i will run my ass off, stretch longer while everyone else hits the locker room. or finish faster so that i can get in and out before the rest of the “team”. i was tired of being made fun of or being baited about attractions or crushes. i loved the sports, but i hated all the rest that went with it. eventurally i just used an injury that wouldn’t heal (pulled muscles in my knee training indoors), and needing to work as a reason to drop out. very real reasons, but if i had felt supported/safe, who knows. i’m also not a very competitive person, so probably would have still quite. seeing the portland thornes play during pride weekend one year, that was pretty special. seeing professional women on the pitch and in the stands be out and open…rainbow thorne flags…it was something to experience. i felt much more proud there then being at the ubber corporate sponsored “pride” parade held earlier that day.

one evening at the hostel i met this interesting woman is in her late 60s and is just discovering the joys of solo travel, and is toying with the idea of becoming untethered herself. her husband died a couple years ago, so why not sell the house and move into some kind of camper type situation and see the country. she spent her time at the hostel asking anyone she could how, why, where they venture, whatever question was on her mind. it was fun to see her open to so many possibilities.

i also met a guy who practices chinesse medicine in l.a. he comes to asheville every so often for continuing education. turns out we know some of the same practicioners and share some of the same theories of healing. i left him some of the foods that i thought might not make the hot journey to my friends.

i did really fall for asheville. i can see the attraction and why people have reccomended it to me so many times. i have thought about it as an option. i checked out cost of living, housing, jobs, access to nature and wildness. it could be a livable city option for me. yet something just seemed off. not quite right for me. it is a big city. bigger than i expected and full of tourists, like actual tourists and not just visitors, so…there is that. but it is closer to some great pals that i got to have a wonderful visit with.

the apocalypse gives me hope

October 15, 2018Tagged adventure, adventures, apocalypse, biking, climate, climate change, colorado, gender, grief, hiking, meditation, music, octavia's brood, queer, queer vegan adventures, relationships, sci-fi, sunsets, vegan, writers, writing, wtf4 Comments

welp, this is my third, and final, attempt at this post. i started it in the spring as the snow was melting and revealing what people left behind to be covered up by the snow. mostly beer cans, bags of dog poo, lost socks, underwear (?!). it was also when i heard a new, to me, definition of apocalypse.

i listen to a great many podcasts at work…so many. one of my favorites is how to survive the end of the world. i wait with great anticipation for new episodes. being in this small mountain town with few people that i feel want to delve into these deeper conversations that i am hunger and thirsty for…that i crave…so i get that with these podcasts. they are all created by people of color; black folks to be specific, mostly all women, some identify as queer. this one, in particular, is by a couple of sisters, adrienne marree brown and autumn brown. the episodes are based around octavia butler’s writings and philosophies. not surprisingly, one of the sisters coedited the book octavia’s brood. if you haven’t held this gem of a book in your hands, i highly recommend it. it can be somewhat embarrassing to listen to this as i walk around town or at work as i’ve laughed out loud, cried, and scratched my head with each one. many i think of daily until the next episode pushes my thoughts deeper than the previous.

so apocalypse…the common understanding of an apocalypse refers to the end of the world, probably involving zombies. however, the origin goes back to latin, greek, old english, and old french. but the new to me meaning is what i want to dive deeper into. and that meaning is about the uncovering, to reveal. i, and many others that i have been reading and listening to, might translate these two meanings to say that maybe if we dare to try and give voice to the uncovering of history and stories to reveal what has been left out, we might finally be able to end this chaos of a mess. the result of imperialism, capitalism, too many power hungry that have drowned out the voices that we need to hear. the voices that perhaps, if we listened could cause such cognitive dissonance that we would have to stop this insane greed that gives way to the endless destruction of the planet….the climate apocalypse if you will.

it is also what is happening with the #metoo movement and much of our society in general. perhaps things are not getting worse, as mainstream media/social media would like us to think and fear, but the atrocities are getting uncovered, revealed. the truth of just how widespread the injustices of our society is. this unraveling of the patriarch and capitalism, of the pains caused by the few to the many, well it gives me hope.

some are afraid of just what will be unleashed. i’m curious about what we will learn about the ancestors, our neighbors, and ourselves. maybe we will learn that all our social and economic theories are wrong….once again showing us that science is ever-changing as we learn new things that prove the old knowledge is wrong…more storytelling and more myth-making…true joy.

the part of this unveiling of another meaning to the apocalypse that truly excites me, however, is the uncovering of the voices that have been vailed, covered, drowned out. something that has bothered me since i started the dive into animal liberation and social justice is this ego-centered idea that “we” are the voice for the voiceless…buuuuuull-shit. i deeply believe that everything that is of this world has a voice and uses it. but the more narrowly we define what is voice, what is alive, what has value to whom, the less we are able to listen to anything not human…english only speaking humans are probably the worse. believing that if one is not speaking english they can not communicate. i have watched how my co-workers who speak spanish and very little english are treated by english only speaking”bosses”. to be clear, i speak very little spanish, however, i am learning how to listen to them to figure out what they need me to know.

i think, and the more that i think the more i believe it to be true, that we have forgotten how to listen to anyone but ourselves. we are so ego driven in the western world that we are incapable to hear anything else. animals and trees and rivers and plants and fish and birds and….all have a voice. if we didn’t believe this to be true, disney would be fucked. and we wouldn’t try so hard to learn to understand when our companion animals are requesting something from us and us from them.

the earth is constantly trying to communicate with us. it is currently fall, almost winter here, and i see the trees getting my attention with the daily shifts in color. the flowers with their scents, berries with their sweetness.

but this voice for the voiceless myth has so greatly affected the voices of people. we’ve started to acknowledge this in our history books, creating special courses for women, people of color, black folks, queer folks. we are starting to realize that those who won the power dynamics tell the stories of even those they have been conquered. maybe people are starting to see this in other realms as well, like in movies and music. but white cis-male voices still dominate over all the other voices out there.

there are genres of writings out there that i didn’t think i liked until i read books written by women, black folks and people of color. i hated, and i mean hated, science fiction until i read octavia butler. she led me to le quin and then neil gaiman. but speculative fiction changed everything for me involving storytelling. then octavia’s brood came out and my mind/heart exploded with possibility.

so when i was at the whitefish bike retreat for the wtf bikexplorers and there was a bipoc panel FOR bipoc people not OF. this little shift in language is so key. i’ve organized and been a part of many organization’s panels of qpoc people but, let’s be real, they were for white folks, queer or not. this panel was moderated by a person who identified in the panel’s identity, and the q&a was FOR bipoc folks. of course, as soon as the q&a opened up, a white person tried to ask a question (the question usually heard at these events asked by good white folks “what can we do for you?”). the moderator was wonderful. she said you can shut up this is not FOR you…or something very similar. my heart burst open because so often i’ve seen such panels continue to serve white folks by answering their questions.

there was only time for 2 questions, both were great and led to wonderful conversations, but the people who organized the questions and discussions with this group was amazing. the conversations went deep. there were tears and much laughter. then a much needed and requested dance party!

for me, this panel of amazing people was the exclamation point to a heart blowing weekend. i didn’t realize how hungry i had been, and am, for these conversations and work. i listen to podcasts and read books and articles, i listen to music, and take in as much visual art on these topics as i can, but without people to share and learn with, well maybe this is the source of isolation i feel at times. these voices, these forces of life is what i am wanting to experience over the noise of pop-culture.

so for me, the zombie apocalypse is already on. it is all the people wondering around addicted to their phones, scrolling through social media looking for connection and validation that they are doing the sheep thing. but the other apocalypse is also happening, maybe on the same devices. we can start amplifying the voices that are pushed to the edges; raise their cultural dB sort of speak. put down the phone and listen to the water and trees. have a solid conversation with your cat…maybe she’ll stop pissing on your shoes.

my advice to those who ask, “what can we do to support you” google the shit out of those same people. read them, listen to the music, invest in their commerce, be a patron. because the answers are out there, we just have to be silent enough to listen. i, unfortunately, talked way too much at this event. i was so hungry for real talk that in my excitement, i forgot to shut the fuck up. i am searching for ways to apologize for that, maybe this post is a way to start until next time when i can practice active listening.

so my personal action for increasing the momentum of the apocalypse is to amplify as many voices as i can. to share the amazing wonderfully inspiring work of people i am learning from. to stand BEHIND them as they lead the way and step in front when it is time to deflect the hatred and violence away from them…to use my whiteness as a kind of shield when wanted.

there is so much i’ve cut out of this post. so many ways that i believe that the apocalypse can help us find our way. i believe that we can all start by asking who is missing from our communities, conversations, view…how can we (re)build relationships. how many different ways are there to listen, speak, give voice to…what happens when we embrace the apocalypse to facilitate understanding, empathy, curiosity, and understanding.

so i will do my best to listen more and to sharing the voices that are being silenced, covered up and overpowered. to start here is a small list of podcasts i listen to on the regular…that are not white, cishet males. it’s a start.