01/12/2026
Story Time with Tra... Safety, Belonging, and the Long Road to Feeling at Home
Safety and belonging are words we often hear together, but for many people, they are not givens…These two basic human rights and necessities are too often yearned for, searched for, and sometimes created out of necessity, even when our methods are a bit unsavory (taking for instance that person always “looking for love in all the wrong places”). For me, the desire to ensure that others feel safe and that they matter didn’t come from reading about theories or taking any kind of training. It came from lived experience.
When I was ten years old, my mom remarried a man who had two daughters, equidistant by one year to each side of my ten. Those 1979 nuptials under the centuries-old oak tree in my grandparents’ Palo Alto front yard literally changed the structure of my family and my life with those two sealing words, I do. While we were now a blended family of five, I rarely felt as if I blended in. My mom and stepdad had their new life as a couple; my two stepsisters had their lifetimes with each other; and I was left believing I had become literally and metaphorically the “red-headed stepchild.” I felt like an outsider - unsure of my place, uncertain of where I fit in, and quietly aware that a sense of belonging is not automatic just because you live under the same roof.
At thirteen, my sense of displacement deepened. My parents moved me and the two of them across the country from California to Florida. The relocation took me away from my maternal family with whom I was quite connected (grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins….), my two stepsisters with whom I’d grown closer, my friends, my school. Everything that helps anyone – especially a young teen – feel secure and at home in the spaces they inhabit. Suddenly, I was surrounded by new people, new norms, and a cultural landscape that felt foreign to me. I had no say in the decision to relocate, yet I carried the emotional weight of starting over. What I lost wasn’t just geography - it was my foundation of safety, continuity, and connection.
As a result of that move, my later teenage years were spent in a small southeastern town where difference was noticed and punished. Right out of the gate, the way I looked and dressed did not conform to my peers' rules - they donned in Jordache Jeans, OP or Izod shirts, and topped with feathered hair; me with a Pink mohawk, long black skirt and Army jacket stacked on top of combat boots. Making matters worse, I was a gay high school kid and was often bullied and harassed, made to feel unwelcome and at risk of harm simply for existing. The mere audacity of my *being* became the weapons they used against me. Their message - spoken and unspoken - was clear: I did not *belong*. A constant vigilance and need to monitor how I showed up in the world during those formative years left a lasting impression.
Ultimately, my teenage experiences profoundly shaped the person I grew into. They deeply influenced how I move through the world and how I show up for others because I understand, on a visceral level, what it feels like to brace yourself before you even walk into a room. I know how painful it is to be made to feel invisible, unwelcome, or unworthy. I understand the heaviness of being made to believe that who you are is a problem. And because of that, I’ve made it my mission to be the kind of person I once needed.
Whether friendships, workplaces, or communities at large, I strive to create environments in which people feel warmly welcomed and safely received. This means listening without judgment or expectation, simply honoring people’s histories and experiences. It shows up as cultivating an open heart so people feel free to express themselves without fear of ridicule, rejection, or harm. Its created by being intentional about fostering understanding and empathy. To me, safety isn’t merely about avoiding harm; it’s about connecting with my fellow humans in a way they feel seen, respected, and valued.
If you’ve ever felt like an outsider, please know this: Your desire for safety and belonging is valid, natural, and human. More importantly, know that you are not alone. On the other hand, if you happen to be in a position to offer a soft and compassionate landing space for another, don’t underestimate how life-changing that can be. Sometimes, the safest place someone will ever know is the one you choose to hold for them.
Belonging doesn’t happen by accident. It is built through empathy, listening, and caring attention. My story is not unique, but it is mine - and it reminds me that every day we all have the power to be a refuge for someone else.
{{Photo from Dec 2016... That time I decided to shave my head before returning to my current-day mohawk.😜}}
