So-called Manhattan — Occupied Munsee Lenape land.
The concrete may look permanent, but this land remembers what came before. Every skyscraper is built on broken treaties and stolen lives.
Lenape Land Back.
Not vandalism—a sacred interruption. This is Indigenous futurism, spray-painted across settler forgetfulness. A reminder that this land was never ceded—and it still calls for return.
Still Lenapehoking.
Empire can change the skyline, but not the truth. The wind, the river, the rhythm of the land—they speak in languages older than steel.
Land, Labor & Liberation
This page is not symbolic. It is not branding. It is not diversity décor.
This is a living record of truth-telling—a space where we name the land we occupy, the labor that built it, and the flags we fly not as decoration, but as declarations of struggle, memory, and alignment.
We live and work on stolen Munsee Lenape land, in a region built by enslaved Africans and sustained by migrant labor. The violence of colonization is not behind us—it surrounds us. But so does resistance. So does survival. So does the land’s refusal to forget.
This is where we remember. This is where we return.
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This Work Exists on Stolen Land and Stolen Labor
We acknowledge that this work is created on the unceded territory of the Munsee Lenape people—the original stewards of what is now known as Jersey City and Hoboken, New Jersey. Long before colonization, this land was a place of ceremony, trade, kinship, and memory. The Lenape were not “removed” peacefully—they were violently displaced, dispossessed, and targeted for erasure through settler-colonial policy and forced relocation. Yet the Munsee Lenape people are still here. Their sovereignty is not a past tense.
We also acknowledge that this land—like much of what is called the United States—was built by the enslaved labor of African peoples, stolen from their homelands and forced to build the wealth of white settler society. That legacy did not end with abolition—it continues through policing, incarceration, economic exploitation, and systemic anti-Blackness.
Today, this region’s survival continues to depend on migrant labor—primarily Black, Brown, Indigenous, and undocumented workers who are underpaid, overpoliced, and rendered invisible while holding up our cities, homes, food systems, and digital infrastructure. From the fields to the tech pipelines, this land is still maintained through racial capitalism.
This acknowledgement is not a ritual. It is a call to action. We commit to:
Supporting land rematriation and Indigenous resurgence
Working toward reparations and abolition of carceral systems
Honoring and protecting migrant communities
Uplifting decolonial organizing and mutual aid rooted in collective liberation
This statement will evolve as we learn. But the truth is simple:
We are settlers on stolen land, building in the afterlife of slavery, and sustained by the labor of people who deserve more than survival.
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Queer Liberation Is Indigenous, Intersex, and Unfinished
We fly this flag not for visibility, but for reckoning.
This is not the Pride flag of corporations and rainbow capitalism. This is a banner of resistance—rooted in the bodies, identities, and ancestral knowledge systems that colonization tried to erase.
This version holds Black and Brown trans brilliance, intersex sovereignty, trans and nonbinary fluidity, and Two-Spirit cosmology—the fullness of queer existence across race, gender, and time. The addition of feathers speaks not only to Indigenous visibility, but to the sacred gender roles and ceremonial identities that were violently suppressed by Christian imperialism and settler assimilation. We do not ask to be seen—we demand to be honored.
We uplift the legacy of Black trans women like Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, the Two-Spirit warriors reclaiming ceremony, and the intersex activists defying surgical colonization. Queerness is not new. Transness is not Western. And gender liberation is not optional.
Learn More, Take Action:
Intersex Justice Project – Intersex-led org fighting for bodily autonomy and ending non-consensual surgeries
BAAITS– One of the most established 2S orgs in the U.S., hosting the largest Two-Spirit powwow annually.
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The Pattern of Palestinian Resistance
We honor the keffiyeh—not just as a textile, but as a testament to survival, land, and liberation. The black-and-white net pattern isn’t a design—it’s a map of memory. Passed from hand to hand, generation to generation, the keffiyeh holds the weight of Palestinian shepherds, revolutionaries, poets, and mothers. It is a living archive of a people whose existence has never been passive—it has always been resistance.
Unlike the modern Palestinian flag, the keffiyeh was never created by a state. It was born of the land itself—woven by workers, worn by farmers, and carried into protest lines and refugee camps alike. It has been banned, burned, and criminalized by occupying forces, precisely because it is so powerful. It tells the story of a people who refuse to be erased. By uplifting the keffiyeh over the flag, we align ourselves with Palestinian indigeneity, not just nationality—with the soul of the struggle, not just its political boundary.
To wear it, post it, or display it with intention is to say: we see Palestine not as a conflict, but as a colonized homeland. We support land back, the right of return, and the abolition of apartheid. And we understand that Palestinian liberation is braided into the fate of all movements for decolonization—from Turtle Island to the Philippines, from Congo to Chiapas.
Learn more, take action:
Within Our Lifetime – United for Palestine– Grassroots Palestinian-led org confronting zionism and imperialism in the U.S. and abroad.
Decolonize Palestine– Accessible, radical education resource built by Palestinians to reclaim the narrative.
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Access Is a Praxis of Liberation
We fly this updated Disability Pride Flag with intention and reverence. Its charcoal background mourns the lives lost to ableism, institutional violence, eugenics, and systemic neglect. The five diagonal stripes—red, gold, white, blue, and green—cut across the flag like beams of resilience, each one representing a specific community: those with physical, neurodivergent, invisible, psychiatric, and sensory disabilities. This flag isn’t just inclusive—it’s intersectional by design, a refusal to flatten the complexity of disabled experience.
Disability justice, as envisioned by Black, brown, queer, and trans disabled leaders, teaches us that access is not a feature, it’s a practice of collective care. It is not compliance with ADA checklists—it is the radical reimagining of how we design, relate, and move through space and time. In this space, we reject pity, saviorism, and productivity culture. We align ourselves with the Disability Justice principles that center interdependence, body sovereignty, and liberation without assimilation.
We recognize that disabled people are not a burden to accommodate—they are the blueprint for a liberated future. From crip time to access intimacy, from AAC (augmentative communication) to collective rest, the disability community has gifted the world transformative ways of being. We honor those innovations. And we listen to those most excluded—not to include them in unjust systems, but to build new systems where all bodies and minds can belong, lead, and thrive.
Learn more, take action:
Sins Invalid– Disability justice performance collective centering disabled queer people of color.
Disability Visibility Project– Platform founded by Alice Wong, uplifting disabled voices and radical storytelling.
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The Land Sings Our Name
This is more than a flag—it is a cosmic drumbeat. The Puerto Rico Libre flag featuring the Taíno Coquí speaks in a language older than colonization. The Coquí is not just an animal—it is a prayer, a spirit guide, and a living heartbeat of the land. Its sound is the voice of Borikén herself, calling her children back into right relationship, memory, and sovereignty.
This version of the flag centers the Coquí as the protector of land, water, and ancestral rhythm. It reminds us that the fight for liberation is not just political—it is ecological, spiritual, and intimate. When the U.S. imposes debt, poisons water, and gentrifies the sacred, the Coquí still sings. When they rename our rivers and bulldoze our trees, the Coquí still sings. And we answer.
I honor this symbol not as decoration, but as ancestral inheritance. The Taíno people of Borikén are my ancestors. The land remembers us, and we remember the land. In flying this flag, I affirm my role in this intergenerational fight—for language, for land, for the restoration of Indigenous futures.
Learn more, take action:
Colectivo Ilé – Anti-colonial organization rooted in racial and ancestral justice in Puerto Rico
The United Confederation of Taíno People (UCTP) - a sovereign alliance of Taíno descendants working to restore Indigenous nationhood, cultural memory, and self-determination across the Caribbean and its diasporas.
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We don’t discount offerings
Healing, rest, learning, and liberation should never be luxuries.
But in a world built on colonization, extraction, and profit-over-people, they are hoarded and priced like commodities.
What We Practice - Sliding Scale Pricing
We offer a multi-tiered pricing structure, with transparent tiers that reflect structural access—not “how much you like me.”
Tiers are named not by value, but by economic and racial reality:
Rooted – For those planting seeds while tending to their own needs.
You can make this monthly investment, even if it’s a stretch. It may feel tender, but you know it’s worth it. You’re saying yes to yourself with courage.
Nourished – For those who have enough and choose to circulate care.
This rate feels steady and aligned. You can make this investment without financial strain. It’s a balanced, grounded commitment to your growth.
Abundant – For those with overflow who joyfully redistribute resources.
You have abundance to share. It brings you joy to give generously and help others access this work. Your investment supports equity, healing, and community care.
Solidarity Spots: Always available, no questions asked. Because you don’t need to explain your trauma or prove your worth to access care.
✧ 50% Justice Coupon for People of the Global Majority
If you are Indigenous, Black, Brown, Asian, Arab, or mixed-race and have experienced the generational impacts of white supremacy, colonization, or diaspora—you get 50% off all offerings. No justification. No need to explain.
🗣️ Use code: POWER50 at checkout.
Because this work is for you. And your access is not optional.
More than Accessibility — We Practice Liberation Design
Payment plans with zero interest
Free affinity spaces for Black, Indigenous, and global majority folks
Low-bandwidth, screen-free options for neurodivergent and rural-accessible engagement
All-gender safe spaces, disability-respecting formats, and trauma-informed facilitation
Land, lineage, and labor acknowledgment—because practices have histories, and we name them
Have a Barrier? Reach out.
You don’t need to disclose your trauma, explain your income, or perform your pain.
Just tell us what you need—and we’ll work together to get you in the room.
This is healing in the cracks of empire. This is ancestral technology. This is care as uprising.
And you? You’re already part of the revolution.
A Note from Me, the Practitioner
I’m a solopreneur and practitioner—building this space with my own two hands, heart-first and deeply committed to learning, unlearning, and designing for true inclusion.
I know I will make mistakes. But I believe in compassionate community course correction. When harm happens, I welcome accountability that moves us toward repair, not shame.
This is a living practice, not a finished product. I’m grateful for every voice that helps me make this space more liberatory, more accessible, and more just.
If you ever want to reach me, you can email me HERE.