I hid behind instruments, computers, Whitney’s voice, Prince’s guitar. I sat in front of my computer surrounded by cassettes, illegally downloading songs, awkwardly whispering “I love you more than I know how to explain and I’m scared so here’s a mixtape I made you.”

In my own struggle to get sober, I would spend days telling myself that my bottoms were “not that bad.” That the next day I would drink lighter, drink less, have water between glasses. For black gay addicts, we’re pressured at both ends. One of the reasons I’m sober today is because people around me talked about it, they extended their hands and hearts to me without knowing it.

As millions of people lined busy streets in gayborhoods across the world for Pride weekend, 1.7 billion people began celebrating Eid al-Fitr  —  where after a long hot month of fasting from dawn to sunset Muslims throw a three-day party (in some places it lasts over ten) celebrating community, good food and impeccable outfits. As two holidays intersected and Queer Muslims began celebrating life at the intersection, a new holiday was born: PrEIDe.

“Instead, I jump back into the mind of the girlish woman I was at 28, the one who didn’t know enough about the consequences for unacceptable motherhood to plunge headfirst into the fire. It has taken me much longer than my mother to see the gift of my own naiveté.”

So maybe my pregnancy path isn’t as simple and straightforward as baby books would have you believe it should be because I’m a poor QPoC with anxiety, but it has been an interesting worthwhile journey so far. I can’t wait until I can take the next step.

“Have the meeting. Ask the youth what they want and need from this group. Start over and do those things. This isn’t about you at all, not anymore.”

Why labeling yourself as “Asian” on your applications might give you an unfair disadvantage when it comes to college admissions.