I am queer in almost every definition of the word, from sexuality and gender to politics and general strangeness. Queerness to me is a matter of diverging from expectation into the actuality and authenticity that are innate to us before systems of control and depression attempt to collapse them. Going deeper into that, I am bisexual and nonbinary / genderfluid, using they / them pronouns. My presentation, attraction, and connections are mercurial and shifting. They are based on how I feel in any given moment, which tilts on a central axis of androgyny and interest in the essence of people of all types and shapes.

I am also a relationship anarchist, which is a philosophy of relating that is nonhierarchical, and in my case nonmonogamous. It focuses on removing the structural assumptions that one type of relationship matters more than another (for example, the over-prioritization of a spouse or family member over friends). Instead, it treats every single relationship as a unique dynamic with idiosyncratic needs that cannot be systematized or generalized but only co-created as it grows and is open to change as the needs change. This means a person can move from romantic partner to friend and back again, for example. In this, the process of repair at the heart of restorative justice is also one of my central values. Amends are possible if both sides are willing to do the work and come to an understanding of what that work is, and can be made even if the relationship doesn't survive. But to do that, there needs to be shared meaning-making about the needs and beliefs of the people involved, which brings us back around to identities.

I am the granddaughter of a first generation Greek Yaya who was only born in the US because her family was fleeing the genocide in Turkey. Both she and my father, her first son, married outside of the community leaving me with a shiny quarter of Greekness amidst a German and English blend on both sides, with a matrilineal splash of Welsh-Irish and Jewish. Though my heart sings for the history and traditions, because she passed away when I was only 18 months old, I never got to be immersed in the culture beyond the stories my non-Greek mother told to try to help me stay connected. For my father, it was too painful and reminded him of his own mother. This longing for a more deeply tended sense of belonging from California to Colorado carried me into connection with animism. But being part of the Greek diaspora is something that continues to shape me.

Enculturated as a girl and woman, I hold those lived experiences and do align with them politically, in particular, even though I don't identify as a woman overall and never felt I belonged with girls while growing up. Having worked on healing those wounds and coming into my gender identity more securely, I feel more at peace with the plurality, and in so-called “feminine” and matriarchally held spaces. This is particularly of note as I move into perimenopause. 

As a paradoxically ‘young’ middle-aged person, post-Saturn return and at the start of the Uranus opposition, my perspective on the earlier stages of life often informs my client work. So, too, does the impact of age on my degenerative health issues.

Though I have many, my two primary disabilities are Fabry’s disease and hypermobility spectrum disorder, which contribute to chronic fatigue and dynamic disability. The pain and exhaustion woven together in both, as well as the sense of mortality and the way they connect me to many disabled friends and colleagues help me to hold space for those at the margins of physical ability and capacity. Likewise, so do my mental health struggles.

Depression and anxiety have been lifelong companions for me, though both have softened with years of treatment and lifestyle changes, as well as spiritual and philosophical changes that made both much more manageable. Though I no longer ascribe to many of the diagnoses that we are now finding fall under the umbrella of complex post-traumatic stress disorder, born from a world held together at the intersection of too many broken systems and unmet needs, I do have a lengthy background with my own diagnoses and those of others. The link between physical, mental and spiritual health is equally robust and a linchpin to my life. 

Spiritually, I was raised Seventh Day Adventist and taught the power of sacredness in action, community care, and the importance of nutritional health. But at age 12, questioning the inconsistency and uncertainty in the Church and Bible took me into agnosticism where Spirit eventually found me and pulled me into polytheism and animism in my late teens and twenties. This is the ground I continue to stand on, and though in absence of my sister, I'm the only one left in my line holding these practices, astrology in particular makes me feel closer to my ancestral roots in the Greek side and helps me understand my loved ones and living family better. 

In the face of much loss, I hold my family tightly. My mom and brother are all that remain of my immediate family, having lost my father at the beginning of 2020 and my sister this year. My mom, brother, his wife and I now tend and care for my sister's five children, as well as my brother's first, born one month before our sister passed. In this, being a child, sibling and aunt shape my worldview and priorities. Children are the essence of the living, the legacy we are building collectively with each choice. My hope is to help offer them the best of who I am and spare them the pitfalls of the worst while we all work to mend and shift our generational wounding. 

In that, ultimately, we come back to the work, where I identify as a spiritual practitioner, diviner, astrologer, cartomancer, parts worker, spirit worker, land spirit (like all humans are), academic, writer, and seeker, always attempting to learn, refine and live in better, more sustainable and fulfilling ways.