I remember sitting in my car one afternoon after a long day, not rushing to go anywhere, just sitting there in silence. And in that moment, I had a realization that stopped me cold:

I don’t actually know if I’m making decisions for me… or for who I think I’m supposed to be.

“If we aren’t intersectional, some of us, the most vulnerable, are going to fall through the cracks” - Kimberlé Crenshaw, American legal academic, civil rights advocate, and critical race theory scholar 

“I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything – other people, trees, clouds. And this is what I learned, that the world’s otherness is antidote to confusion – that standing within this otherness – the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books – can re-dignify the worst-stung heart.” - Mary Oliver

There was a time in my life when I thought I was confident. It took time to build that but I felt I had reached it. I could speak in front of a room. I could articulate ideas clearly. I could advocate for others. I could even challenge injustice when it felt necessary.

But privately? I didn’t trust myself.

“We have to remain visible. They have to see us, they have to know that we’re not going [nowhere], that we’ve been here ever since God made man and woman, and they have to get over it.” - Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, author/activist/community organizer

Sitting down to write this month’s article felt like a heavy, reflective lift for me. For a long time—and, if I’m honest, still sometimes today—I allowed my feelings to guide my actions. As you might imagine, that led to more than a few missteps. Okay… a lot of them.

Humans have been making art since before recorded history. It’s in our nature. Our methods and mediums have changed, but what we make art about hasn’t changed much: things we see, things we dream, things we feel. And right now, a lot of people are feeling a lot of things. Making art can feel trivial when there are so many disastrous events happening all around us. But I think that trying times are when art becomes especially important. Here are some tips to help you keep creating:

This will be my final newsletter article for the Cortland LGBTQ Center. I am moving out of state in a few days and wanted to take this time to say thank you and goodbye to the community I have met and worked with over the last three and a half years. I came into this position with no real background in the non-profit sector and just wanted to find ways to help the Cortland LGBTQ+ folks in the community have a safe space to be themselves. I have met amazing professionals, learned about the wonderful resources in the area, and met some amazing queer performers and allies.

With resolutions in the air, one trend is that most people choose a single word to guide their year, such as intentional, brave, or growth. This year, I choose ME!

As we step into a new year, we’re often invited to choose a word to guide us for the year.

These are often popular words I hear from clients, friends, and family:

Intentional

Brave

Grounded

Growth

I’ve never been someone who welcomes change with open arms, at least not at first. For me, the discomfort often comes from fear, anxiety, and that looming sense of not knowing what comes next. I’d love to say I’m not a creature of habit, but the truth is I can get very comfortable with the status quo. There’s a particular safety in routine… until something disrupts it.

It’s like a familiar pattern I lived through over and over when my son was growing up: we’d finally settle into a rhythm, feel like we understood this age, this phase, this version of him, and just when we felt grounded, something would change again. Suddenly, we were back to navigating new challenges, new circumstances, new unknowns. And that’s life!