Belonging: a thread. I am most comfortable on the edges of groups. With age, I have unravelled some of what lies behind that instinct and come to welcome it.
I like groups and finding social/political spaces to be. But I’ve learned to be ready for moments when, inevitably...

someone will take my breath away with their extreme adherence to some believe or practice.
I remember when I was hanging around with a lot of breastfeeding advocates and natural birthers and I first encountered the idea of lotus birth. There was I, passing some woman a herbal...

tea, and I suddenly realised she was great with the idea of women spending days nursing their baby with the placenta attached.
And, oh Lord, I have had similar experiences in feminist spaces, LGBT places, political campaigns of all sorts. Even the writing world is not exempt...

from those sudden moments when you question if you belong, maybe because you have no strong beliefs about semi-colons or something.
Of course, there are real and important questions of power around what gets called ‘extreme’ and who is ‘mainstream’. These have been, and remain...

matters or life and death sometimes.
But, in general, as an individual, I have made my peace with the fact that belonging doesn’t mean ascribing to the ‘perfect’ set of beliefs or having the ‘proper’ characteristics. Any environment that *demands* that of you is not a healthy...

place and anything it appears to be offering you will come at too high a price. In fact, healthy spaces will actively welcome dissent, debate and the changing of minds. They will also welcome those who float on the edges as well as those who stand at the centre.
And, most...

important of all, I try to remember that there are always lovely people to be found. Being complex, contradictory and confused is not a failing, it is being human, and the best humans know that.