Fragments
Fragments is a space for writing that stays with questions rather than trying to resolve them. I keep returning, at my own pace, to Black queer survival, abolitionist care, and world-making in common.
Recent Posts
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Eastward
The ice is gone. I notice this before I’ve settled fully onto the bench, the oat milk moka still warm between my hands, the pines along the boardwalk doing their slow work in the wind. Habitat 67 sits in my peripheral vision the way it always does. The Jacques-Cartier Bridge. The amusement park still closed…
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Consequence as Weather
The coffee shop near the Palais des congrès is already full of Liberal Party of Canada convention delegates when I join the line outside. Cop cars are parked down the street. Inside, every table has a staffer. Suits. Baseball caps. #LIB2026 lanyards. Louboutins under a table where someone’s set a Prada bag on the chair…
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What the Credential Requires
The process is specific. A recognized bachelor’s or master’s in social work. More than 350 hours of supervised fieldwork. Registration with a provincial regulatory body. Annual renewal. Professional liability insurance. Continuing education requirements that must be documented and submitted on schedules the regulatory bodies determine. In most provinces, certain activities are reserved exclusively for licensed…
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Salt
The ice is sweating. Moisture gathering at the surface, at the precise line where the ice meets the water it’s in the process of becoming. I’m watching it from the bench on the pier, the same bench, the same eastward orientation I keep returning to without quite deciding to. Gulls have settled at that line…
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Fool’s Spring
The air is doing something it has no business doing in March. I notice it before I’m fully awake to noticing—something in the chest, a small release, the jaw unclenching in a way I didn’t realize it had been clenched. I’m already on the route when it registers. The cold that’s been structural for months,…