I'm a writer because I'm a survivor, because I grew up in a family where talking was dangerous, and a world of oppressive systems that foster, and then thrive in, silence. Survival, for so many of us, is tied to learning to notice everything, to read layers and layers and layers of nuance, to keep ourselves as safe as we can, and so we can fight and sometimes even win. So that we can protect each other, walk each other home at night, build new systems rooted in justice and collective joy. Consequently, I'm a perceptive motherfucker. And I write about it. I also write science, with the same nuance, perceptiveness and urgency.

 

And I love writing about research, activism, justice, octopus, dogs, nature, do it yourself health care, birth, death, social science, that guy who called 911 because a zebra bit his nipple off, and where he ended up years later. I fluctuate between wanting to be as badass as Ida B. Wells and wanting to be as cool as Mary Roach. Or maybe just finish that book I'm working on about community-led ways of caring for each other's health and well-being, outside of the inaccessible, exploding trash fire that is our official health care system. Or that other book, about dogs' emotional intelligence, and that radical, queer guide to fertility -- pregnancy and birth, DIY abortion and contraception, reproductive justice and everything in between. I'm also at work on a memoir, anonymous activist journalism projects, and a research methods textbook. My desk is often a mess.

​

​