The other day, as I was speaking about a group of queer Black designers of which I’m a part, a White lesbian asked me: “when does a group exist just so a bunch of outcasts can commiserate about their shared otherness? I mean, could someone like me join?”

The weather is great, infection rates are down, and the Dutch government loosened Covid restrictions. Masks are no longer required in public indoor spaces. I’m at Basquiat waiting to catch up with a friend, and an Irish woman strikes up a conversation.

On May 2, 2018, as we got off the plane from Stockholm, completing our visit with Anneli and Milan, I said calmly to Anja:

I am on a 33-day streak picking my teeth before bed. I’ve designed a temptation bundle, pairing the activity with a few minutes of garbage television. During these days, I’ve made it through two seasons of Love After Lockup and six seasons of Sister Wives. It shouldn’t surprise you that my watching habit has extended well beyond the time it takes me to pick my teeth. Earlier this week I decided to tone it down and return the temptation bundle to its original intention. Not because I want to watch less garbage television, but because I don’t want Sister Wives to end.

One thing I appreciate is my growing ability to understand how small choices affect the quality of my day. I have a history of struggling with doing things that are good for me, and while I’ve always known that certain things have a more positive influence than others, I wasn’t always able to execute on them.

The world beyond the gender binary is vast and diverse. As a queer facilitator, I’ve come to appreciate the value of writing my pronouns behind my name when it shows up in a video call or on Slack. It makes it easier for people to be good allies to those of us who have come to use pronouns they weren’t assigned at birth.