In putting together my story to become a member of The Walking Gallery, I started thinking about all the people who have helped me out since I got sick. Maybe they helped me out physically, maybe emotionally. All I know is that all of these people were there for me. Most of them were there for me multiple times. Some stayed up with me all night. Some pushed me to get help. Some listened to me complain, cry, and laugh. And I know that without this cast, I wouldn't be who I am today.

So, everyone, thanks -- you prove that the heart of life is good.



The Home Fries


The people who understand where I come from. It’d been years, yet when I got sick, they called, sent flowers, and visited. They don’t pick me up off the ground, but they’re always only a phone call away.

My Girls1. The Sister, 2. The Mother

My Boys3. The Father 4. The Brother 5. Becky, 6. Bissie, 7. Jessie, 8. Ryan


The Cal Kids


9. Suzie

From the beginning of college through the present, no matter what the issue is, they listen to me, laugh with me, and pick me up when I fall.

viv matt

10. Stephanie, 11. Vivian, 12. Matt

Or they send their parents, or their boyfriend, or their boyfriend’s friend. Basically they’re hyphy rockstars who stood by me before I got sick, stood by me when I got sick, and stand by me to this day.

Sonja Nayeli13. Sonja (14. Tal), 15. Nayeli


16. Amanda

havah steph

17. Havah (18. Jason), 19. Stephanie,

AGO ADX20. Stephanie, 21. Carrie, 22. Laura, 23. Arri, 24. Susan, 25. Laurelei, 26. Erin, 27. Carissa, 28. Amanda, 29, Carla, 30. Sarah, 31. Andrea, 32. Emma, 33. Peter, 34. Dave, 35. Jared, 36. Mark, 37. Bryson

At Cal, it’s hard to have real relationships with your professors, your GSIs, your classmates. You’re one in 500 students. But when you fall over, these barriers somehow disappear. My bioethics professor offered to be my medical advocate and call my parents. My social psych professor took me to the student health center in a police car. My GSIs took me home and didn’t freak out too much when I got pulled out of their classes by EMTs. My classmates told me their personal stories, walked me home, and ran the interference required to keep me out of the hospital. Then I worked at a homeless resource center, and, of course, I had my own contingent of the tribe.


38. Max, 39. Lev, 40. Ryan, 41. Ben, 42. Joe, 43. Andi, 44. Neil, 45. Steven, 46. Eric, 47. Emilie, 48. Chad, 49. David, 50. David, 51. Diva, 52. Robb, 53. Dylan, 54. Olivia, 55. Kevin, 56. Kristen


The Georgetown Crew

I know I owe my masters degree to my cohort at GU - they ensured that I graduated with some cognitive surplus intact. They stole a wheelchair (we returned it... eventually...), drove me home, tucked me into bed, picked me up in weird places, took me to the hospital and waited for hours, staged an intervention, rescued me from water, were my chauffeurs, and caught me when I fell.


57. Karen, 58. Veronica, 59. Erin, 60. Dantana, 61. Zach, 62. Veronica, 63. Ashley, 64. Matt, 65. Chris, 66. Matt, 67. Anthony, 68. Betelle, 69. Elliott, 70. Hooman, 71. Jennifer, 72. Kyle, 73. Laura, 74. Maria, 75. Sarah, 76. Stephanie, 77. Charlotte, 78. Haymi, 79. Heather, 80. James, 81. Alice, 82. Alex, 83. Dr. C, 84. Dr. H, 85. Amy, 86. Miriam, 87. Michelle


88. Phil

89. Ekat


The Feds

For a crew that wears suits all the time, they’re surprisingly protective. From the ONC to HRSA to the FDA, these people were amazing.

90. Wil, 91. Farzad, 92. Lanre, 93. Sachin, 94. Andrea, 95. Sameer, 96. Yael, 97. Marty, 98. Miryam, 99. Robyn, 100. Ian, 101. Mike, 102. Rose, 103. Mary Beth, 104. Georgie, 105. Lori, 106. Jim, 107. Jill, 108. James, 109. Adam, 110. Damon, 111. Aman, 112. Alina, 113. Alon, 114. Mary, 115. Doris, 116. Amy, 117. Gary, 118. Sasha


High Fives

High Fives

119. Alicia

randi120. Randi

The Law Kids

I was scared that when Amanda left and I wasn’t with the GU kids everyday I’d be alone. That I wouldn't have a person anymore. Nothing could be further from the truth. These people adopted me into their family and are there for me as if I had always been a member of the crowd. Even though I’m not an attorney.

121. Brad, 122. Marie, 123. Gabe, 124. Shaun, 125. Michelle, 126. Sam, 127. Natalie, 128. Laura, 129. Navin, 130. Kathleen




The Walking Gallery (and Twitterati)

ted regina131. Regina, 132. Ted,
These people gave me a voice to speak out about being a patient. They helped me discover telling your story is one of the most empowering things you can do.

Whitney133. Whitney (and 134. Jake)

Rebecca135. Rebecca
gallery 136. Nikolai, 137. Wen, 138. Tiffany 139. Lisa, 140. Matthew, 141. Fred, 142. Alan, 143. Gregg, 144. Leonard, 145. Alan, 146. Amy, 147. Brian, 148. Diana, 149. Kait, 150. Greg, 151. Christine


The Entrepreneurs

And we have all the technophiles.Some are health, some are not. All want to make the world a better place.

152. Katie, 153. Dhruva, 154. Dave, 155. Marco, 156. Kyle,157. Adam, 158. Henry, 159. Jamie, 160. Michael, 161. Andre, 162. Polina, 163. Anish, 164. Adam, 165. Lygeia, 166. Raph,

Marvin167. Stephanie, 168. Marvin


The Alturists

And last, but certainly not least, we have all the people who took me in and really had no idea what they were getting into. I can never thank you enough for all the love and care you all have shown me.

Donna and Dennis


169. Donna, 170. Dennis

 Konstantin171. Konstantin

 Leonard172. Leonard
Kelli171. Kelli


Here's an op-ed I wrote for my public policy class-- enjoy!

Apposite Bondage, Adverse Laws

It's a benign flag—white, black, and blue stripes, topped with a seemingly-happy heart. Though practitioners say otherwise, all I see are the literal colors—black and blue bruises, blood, and bandages. BDSM—Bondage, Domination, and Sado-Masochism. Here in San Francisco, the flag is flown high as thousands of BDSM practitioners in full (or lack thereof) regalia flock into Dore Alley to share their passions each year.

I was there this year. Only I was fully clothed, an outfit completed by my security headset and orange vest, and, for once, not a member of the majority population. My duties required standing on the corner of Folsom and 10th, keeping the police out and those with ass-less chaps in; I watched as leather-clad folk enjoyed themselves, in, umhum, public ways.

Getting over the obvious breeches in normative behavior, I was struck by the ease the BDSM community shed their secrecy (with their clothes) and uniformly practiced bondage in both homo- and hetero-erotic ways. In a 2000 survey of self-professed BDSM practitioners, 68% expressed that they were heterosexual. This figure is surprising, as BDSM in its public form originated as a gay subculture. While the images of leather-daddies leading young men in nipple clamps are still salient, this shift from homo to hetero is intriguing.

Here in San Francisco, you can see this depolarization of the homo-underground. But then again, this is the unofficial gay Mecca and there are plenty of men to spare. But this makes me wonder—why is it that San Francisco is the unofficial Mecca of homosexuality? There’s the usual reasons including dishonorably discharged sailors, the AIDS crisis, or Harvey Milk’s election and subsequent martyrdom in 1978- But why does it continue to be the epicenter for the flamboyant, the irreverent, and the just plain odd? How did it get to the point where underground factions would exist and separate within the community—BDSM, Circuit Boys, Club Kids, Druggies, Drag Queens, etc?

San Francisco attracts outsiders people because like attracts like, and in this case, like also attracts acceptance. But what of the people who are not so out of the mainstream? What if San Francisco’s stand is debunked by Proposition 8 this November? While I know the veiled Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence will be ok because they’ve been built against prejudice (and being nuns, they don’t need sex), but what will happen to the homosexual population that simply wants to create a (modified)-nuclear family? What about those who do not want an underground life but who want to stand proudly and feel normal amongst their peers? There are many.

Many people have seen the popular photograph of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, a lesbian couple of fifty-five years before they were married by Mayor “Gay”-vin Newsom on June 16, 2008. Had their 2004 marriage not been annulled, Martin and Lyon would have had four more years of wedded bliss before suffering the tragic death of Del Martin last month.

The public and mostly heterosexual BDSM community certainly defies more conventional archetypes than this couple, does it not? Even my Christian side says yes. Not to say that we have all changed our views or proudly accept Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism, but if heterosexual people can beat each other publically in the streets I can’t help but feel that we can change our strict laws on something as convivial as marriage. Proposition 8 threatens to defeat fairness in San Francisco and all over California.

And even though I may not practice BDSM and I may not be a lesbian, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put my agenda aside for a few hours to help protect those ascribing to an alternate lifestyle. In the city with the golden gate bridge, I would hope we can uphold the golden rule. It’s time for marriage to go homo—uniformly given to all people. Until my peers remember that, I’ll be here warming up for next month’s Folsom Street fair, the largest leather fest in the world. Oh Daddy….