Five years ago today, Derek Chauvin arrested George Floyd Jr. in Minneapolis for using a counterfeit $20 bill. Chauvin pinned Floyd to the ground, knelt on his neck for nine minutes and 29 seconds, and murdered him. 

I photographed the protests that followed in Seattle. 

It took me weeks to stop panicking just touching my apartment door handle. Months to stop jumping when I heard the dumpster slam shut outside. Five years after George Floyd’s murder and the protests that took over Seattle’s streets, I’m still unpacking the trauma I carried from covering the frontlines — fighting for my right to live here as a Black man.

I didn’t have a choice but to document it. As a Black photographer, I felt a moral imperative to be there, to capture the raw truth. I saw a man get shot five feet in front of me for stopping someone from driving a car through a crowd. I watched cops tear-gas a child — a child — because they didn’t know how to defend themselves against a five-year-old holding flowers. I watched peaceful protests escalate under the heavy hand of the police, only to be twisted into “riots” for the cameras.

But I also saw something I never expected: a movement that transformed from trauma into community. I stopped focusing on the fear I felt at the frontlines and started focusing on the people who stood shoulder to shoulder, who kept me safe, who kept me coming back. We were terrified — but we were together.

My photos were never just about documenting the violence. They were about capturing the resilience of a community that showed up, day after day, to resist it.

Five years later, I’m not sure what’s changed. Things might honestly be worse now—I got slurred on the train three days ago. Police killings have continued to rise. But here’s what I do know: these photos aren’t some congratulatory souvenir of a moment we survived. They’re a reminder.

Five years later, the fight is still happening. And it still needs you to show up.

A year after its release, many trans people credit Jane Schoenbrun's I Saw the TV Glow for inspiring major changes in their lives.

The post These Queers Saw the TV Glow appeared first on Autostraddle.

An open letter to Lands End

Dear Lands End,

I bought beautiful Lands End flannel shirts for my husband and myself last Christmas. They weren't the matchy-matchy ones - which you evidently don't make. His was of a substantial, durable-seeming material, nice buttons, sewn well, and had, oh, at least two front pockets. Mine was also well-made, nice fabric, great comfy styling... and ZERO pockets. Why? I also have two hands, carry all sort of things, and would have loved a place to stow some carryables. I even double-checked the side seam because sometimes they put girl pockets there. Nope. Nothing. (NB: Even your "Boyfriend Shirts" for women don't have pockets!)

Maybe you think that I can use my purse? That capacious tote that sometimes doubles as overnight-bag and survival kit? But I don't carry it with me when I am stacking wood, doing chores and just hanging around the house. Pockets. Pockets are great. Pockets are needed by anyone who needs a shirt. Perhaps you think it is infringing on my femininity or my modesty to place to big patches over my chest region? Really, I don't mind. I don't need your shirts to accentuate my positives, wherever they may be located. 

I need pockets. As many as you can give me.

Sincerely,

A Pocket Gal

If I could count the phones I've dropped and broken because measly little pockets won't hold them! If I could name the things I've misplaced because I "just set them down for a sec while I did something"! If I could get back the dollars that have fallen out of narrow, shallow pockets that were basically pockets-in-name-only! When it starts to hit the old pocket... well. 

What's the big deal?? Women have fought for the vote, for equal pay, for the ability to decide what to do with our own bodies - heck, we're still working on that one! Do women have to fight for the right to have pockets? 

I will send a shout out to my favorite purveyor of stylish clothing for women-of-a-certain-age-who-still-feel-somewhat-young-ish: J Jill - those folks put pockets in all sorts of things! Side pockets, patch pockets, hip pockets, deep back pockets, zip pockets. They've got 'em all. 

In the history of human sartorial advances, I believe that the pocket stands right at the top. Collars? For straight-up cowards! Zippers? Nothing a button can't do. Sleeves? Well, that one's basic. Pockets enabled our prehistoric forbears to carry home berries and nuts, stow some dried protein for laters, and put away that slingshot and rock until they were good and ready. I can only imagine the chaos that reigned before we could carry stuff hands-free. 

So, in the name of all that is holey (pocket pun, get it??), please, please grant me the serenity to use pockets for loose change, the courage to ask for pockets, and the wisdom to know the difference between carefree clothing and careless design. To quote my elder grandson's favorite joke: "Why did the golfer have a hole in his pocket? So that he'd always have a hole-in-one." To that I will add another joke: "Why did the seal carry fish in her mouth? Because she didn't have any pockets." I feel ya, seal, I feel ya.

Don’t use AI. Don’t let it write for you. Don’t let it make art for you. Don’t let it think for you. Don’t degrade yourself like that.

My parents flew to visit us in Seattle earlier this year. It's always lovely to see them and spend time together. We keep our visits low-key: neighborhood or park strolls, an IPA or fancy cocktail, and plenty of good food. We catch up on conversations that don't work over the phone and retell stories we all know by heart.

One night before dinner I told them about an essay I wanted to write—this one. My mom was in college when my sister and I were kids. She often shared with us bits and pieces of what she learned while earning a business degree. It's the words of Professor Tom Campbell, as told by my mom, that rang and resonated through the years. She reposted on her own blog a personal essay she wrote about him many years ago.

Professor Campbell shared with her class the concept of single- and multi-lifers. He was describing the career trajectories of the people he'd studied in his own life. Single-lifers spend most of their lives in one career. They might do some job-hopping here and there, but a single line of work covers most of their employment. They might rise up the ranks of a single company or take the same job at many companies. Multi-lifers, by contrast, have much more variety in their working life. Their career path might seem more like a wandering kid at a zoo than any kind of ladder. I tried to summarize what my parents and Jamie discussed about our respective careers. I also gave my sister, another multi-lifer, a call while I was writing this.

what makes a multi-lifer?

Describing a type of person can feel a little like describing traits of a zodiac sign, but bear with me. I've narrowed down my concept of a multi-lifer to include these three characteristics.

Disposition. Multi-lifers often get bored. They move through their career with no small measure of restlessness. One advantage of this is they accumulate a variety of skills that may be useful in their future work. They have some self-awareness to know what kind of tasks they like and are good at.

They also need to be comfortable with adapting on the run. My sister says, "things don't always go the way you plan," both within a project and within a career itself. A strong multi-lifer can get their bearings and choose a new path from what's available. Making decisions like these ask of us multi-lifers no small amount of courage!

Circumstance. Not every multi-lifer becomes one by choice. Luck and opportunity play their parts over the years. Mom says, “some birds fly because they fledge the nest, others because they’re pushed out.” The important thing is that we're flying.

My mom was a manager at a big tech company, then a realtor, a writer, and the director of a senior housing community. Dad worked as a model maker and artist for much of his career, owning his own company. He learned to weld, carve wood, sculpt models out of polyurethane foam, teach 3D printing, and more. My sister spent years in all kinds of hospitality industry roles and now does project ops at a tech firm. She studied UX design and developed an HR department for an international startup. I've worked at a science lab, food bank, did STI/HIV counseling and testing, and so many restaurant jobs. We didn't choose most of these lives so much as spotted them and took a chance.

How they manage risk. This isn't about whether a multi-lifer pursues risky choices. "I think of myself as risk-averse," my dad said. I believe that! That doesn't mean he and my mom haven't taken risks. We've all moved across the country more than once. We've found places we thought we'd stay, and then decided to keep moving.

When it comes down to it, all decisions are risky. Nobody can predict the future with real certainty. But a tolerance for risk, knowing that you can take a leap and pick yourself up if you fall, is crucial.

how does a single-lifer compare?

Single-lifers often have one career path. It's a job they might stick with. In that role they may develop deep institutional knowledge. They'll probably know how to do their job inside and out. They might change companies but keep the same challenges. A single-lifer doesn't limit themselves to work. Single-lifer traits could show up in hobbies, family time, or other areas.

Lots of people thrive in routine. It may even be nourishing, freeing up the mind to act creative in other ways. Some people use that stability as a launch pad for their interests or varied pursuits. As my parents and I talked, we tried to define what makes a single-lifer tick. What do they prefer about this way of being? After much discussion, I don't think we ever did. Maybe it seemed too unfathomable to us.

how do you succeed as a multi-lifer?

Multi-lifers used to have a good amount of stigma attached to them. They were "unserious job hoppers!" The only good worker was the one who spent their whole life in one job. These folks could retire after 50 years with a gold watch and a solid pension. That's not how companies run anymore. With weakened worker solidarity, companies don't offer more benefits than they have to. The job market is forcing lots of potential single-lifers into the multi-lifer path. How can they succeed?

Find a career path that works for you. Find work that values variety, whether in one job or throughout the company. Earn skills that interest you and keep looking for ways to cultivate new ones.

Expand the possibilities of what you can "do." What parts of your current job do you like doing? Who else does those kinds of things? Don't feel confined by the limits of one industry or type of job.

Cultivate a wide and varied network. Don’t stick to making connections within one industry. You never know where a job might open up! As you move from place to place, keep in contact with people you loved working with. I’m grateful for the job opportunities I received from friends in past lives.

the joy of winding paths

Would I have been happy living out a single career? Would I have found a place to land that I liked so much that I never moved again? I don't know. But I do know that the first leap out of whatever nest I'm in doesn't seem to scare me much.

I look at my family, their many and varied careers, every time I see a path open up before me. They've given me the courage to think, "sure, I'll give that a try."