Wow, has time been flying. It seems like yesterday I was writing my last email newsletter, while in reality it was two full months ago. So much has happened; so much new content has been produced and published, this new blog is in the works, I’ve survived another year in this wild wild world, and another friend has moved on to become an ancestor.

Today, I’m feeling grounded; feeling the humid breeze come through my window to touch my face and dance between my Prayer Plant’s leaves. I’m learning to propogate this spring, and my first plant baby has grown a tiny stem out from the dirt, originally from an ivy that creeps down my bookshelf. It brings me pure joy to see him grow.

Barely two weeks ago was my birthday. Reaching 28 truly feels like a miracle. I'm one of those people who never thought I'd make it to see 16, or 18, or 21, or 25 years old. Maybe it was superstition, maybe depression or a tough adolesence, maybe it was being a millenial brought into a world with constant war, exploitation, oppression, climate crises, and destruction around us on the daily. 27 was the last 'scary year' in my head (27 Club phenomenon no doubt). It felt like, if I could make it through this year, I may actually live long enough to grow old. So when COVID-19 hit, as an autoimmune chronically ill person, doing 'riskier' in-person contact work to pay my bills, I really felt doomed, like my life is too painfully ironic to let me live! Well, I'm grateful to say that I’m still here. And something in the air is different this spring. Maybe I'll still die next week in some freak accident, but a huge part of me feels like I may actually age and get to live a full life in a way that I never thought I would before. Life is a really beautiful, precious, messy thing.

I’ve been reflecting on this fact even more now that I’ve lost a friend, Miss Velvet. I worked with Miss Velvet several times for The Lust Garden films, as well as considered them a dear friend. The last time I saw them, we danced all night, dressed to the nines, polished off more bottles of champagne than could fit on the hotel dresser, and laughed ourselves to sleep in a giant cuddle puddle on the bed (I think there were five of us that slept on that queen). Velvet was a radiant, powerful being. Being in their presence was such a calming joy, the kind that just resets you and fills your soul. Their smile and laugh could put you at complete ease; the kind of person that everyone is drawn to. The kind who challenges you, and holds you up, and inspires you to be better. But the kind who is also a relief to be around, who you don’t have to perform for. The kind who is so compassionate and always has the funny quips. Someone who is effortlessly cool.

They are often referred to as ‘The Domme Who Makes Their Submissives Read Black Feminist Theory.’ They were beyond smart or talented or skillful. They revolutionized the entire femdom industry while inspiring a generation of Black queer and trans people, dominatrices, and sex workers around the globe. And they did it with such non-challant ease, just falling into like a passion that chooses you. They were absolutely prolific. I knew them only as a friend and sex work peer, but they were an invaluable pillar to several harm reduction, political justice organizing, and non-profit communities as well. After the news of Velvet’s passing went public, I had several friends reach out to me and share that they too were greiving Velvet, Minneapolis friends that I had no idea were even aware of them. Their memorial was similiar, people literally flew in from all over the country, even crossing oceans, to say goodbye.

I’m not sure if they ever really knew the full scope or impact they had on others. I can almost hear it, me trying to convince them of their value, telling them how amazing they are, and then the self-depreciating joke they’d make in response to play it off. I wish they could have had more time here. I wish they could have had more time for themself. I wish they could have had more time to know that they were, indeed, enough. I wish their burden to be everything for everyone could have been lessened. I wish they could have been more free. I wish I could hug them and laugh with them one more time. I, along with hundreds, maybe thousands of others, am grieving them. The whole world feels less complete without them, like a hole in the atmosphere; something constant and present. I feel it like a weight on my shoulders, like a heavy backpack I can’t yet take off. Someone told me that grief is like a circle that always stays the same size. It never goes away, shrinks, or disappears. Your life just grows around it. I have been holding that in my heart a lot the last two weeks.

We truly lost a one-in-a-million spirit on this Earth. I am taking their wisdom and holding them with me, moving towards a life that would hopefully make them proud and that may someday honor them. That began with popping a bottle of champagne in their name, and cherishing moments that I was able to spend grieving and celebrating them with friends. I am heartbroken and devastated, yet glad that they can finally be at peace and rest. I hope that they have everything this world could not give them in the next. There is really nothing like losing someone you love to remind you how important it is to appreciate those you have near.

If you want to honor Velvet, you can do so by donating to their memorial fund, listening to this podcast, by reading Black feminist or Marxist theory, and by listening to, donating to, making space for, and following the leadership of Black people.