With Love, Mom

In October 2021, I attended a BIPOC artists residency/retreat on Indigenous land of the Nipmuc, Agawams, Pocumtuc, Wabanaki Confederacy, and the Mohican peoples. (Also known as Plainfield, MA). This journey continues to transform me. It was there that I first called myself a “soft round boi”; where I laughed and sobbed and felt full up on queer brown brown love and understanding; where I learned from wise teachers, peers what it means to return to self and knowing. I’d never felt this held before; this sense of belonging as an act. I relished every feeling – yes, including the uncomfortable ones. And on the last day of this retreat, I went into the woods alone and sobbed a big question … “Who will hold me when I return?” When I think of deep soul friendships, I think of home. Returning to home; redefining home. I remember that home is also within me. And months later I’m less worried about “who will hold me when I return?” The question has shifted to, “How will I hold me when I return?” and how will I extend the feeling of home to others?