Every story here was shared by choice. Each one belongs entirely to its author.
She didn't speak for a long time. Then she asked if I had eaten. That was the beginning of everything. I had rehearsed this moment for three years in English, in Swahili, in silence. But when it came, the words arrived in the language we had always used for the most important things.
Activism made us brave enough to find each other.
Kiswahili gave me a self I didn't expect to find.
Faith and queerness are not opposites. I live that every Sunday.
Digital spaces save physical lives. Mine included.
She called it "the way you look at the sky." I never asked her to explain.