Happy Pride Month, Seward Co-op Community! As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, this month is one that has always felt significant to me, especially as I’ve continued to learn more about myself and my identity.
I was born in June, Pride Month, in the late 1980s, a time when queerness was still taboo. The HIV/AIDS epidemic was just beginning to be addressed on a federal level. While the next few decades brought positive opportunities for research and therapies, the queer community remained a punch line, with the blows always hitting close to home.
My family members who belonged under this umbrella were some of the most formative people in my life, including my Uncle Sal. He was a chef in Milwaukee, Wisc., and owned a popular restaurant that specialized in Oaxacan-style moles. He encouraged me to get excited about food, gave me my first cookbook with accompanying multi-colored cooking spoons I still cherish to this day, and grounded me in our shared precolonial culture and roots. He kept bat houses instead of birdhouses, and he was my first connection to a now-beloved holiday, Día de los Muertos. What I didn’t know then, was that he was living with HIV/AIDS. I’m grateful my family was informed enough to encourage us be close to him as he grew thinner and more ill, especially at a time when people were afraid or wildly misinformed about the transmission of the virus. Uncle Sal may have passed away due to the complications of this chronic condition, but the early acceptance of queerness, especially through an illness that much of society blamed on loving allowed me to consider the vast array of what relationships could look like, for myself and others. And, while queerness has been ever-present in my life, discussions of gender were considerably less.
Growing up, I never felt comfortable with femininity as it was presented to me, and I frequently received mixed messages: appreciation for being a tomboy but scolded for scraping my knees and cutting my hair short because it was not “feminine.” Throughout my childhood, without even thinking about it, I played with gender through my clothing choices and presentation. This fluidity has felt like a natural part of my being for as long as I can remember.
Years later in my early 20s, when I moved to Minneapolis after I had figured out my own queerness, the concepts of non-binary identities and gender fluidity were presented to me. Only then did I finally find language that felt right for something I had experienced my whole life. Being given this language allowed me to own and name my identity in ways I never had before. More than anything, I was finally slipping into a healing place of self-acceptance and appreciation I’d never experienced.
Everyone deserves this kind of comfort, belonging, safety, and acceptance. I’m grateful to find it not only in my community, but in my workplace, too. Earlier this spring, when Twin Cities Pride dropped their title sponsor for its rollback on diversity, equity, and inclusion practices, I was thrilled for an opportunity to work with our fellow Twin Cities metro-area co-ops to raise money and fill the gap. Together, Seward Co-op, along with Eastside Co-op, Lakewinds Co-op, Mississippi Market, Valley Natural Foods, and The Wedge all worked together to contribute just under $30,000 to help Twin Cities Pride recoup lost funds. While Seward Co-op has always made it a point to donate to smaller-scale Pride events, it was understood that this larger-scale event is a lot of people’s first access to a community they may be emerging into as they find themselves—and that is worth ensuring its continuation.
It should not be, but it feels like a privilege in 2025 to work at a place that does not shy away from its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion—we lean into it—and I am very proud of that. I hope our community is too, knowing each time they shop it’s contributing to employing a diverse staff, sustaining local producers, and helping create safer, inclusive spaces for each of us to live our fullest, most authentic lives.
