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Current Curiosities
[Reading] Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire (reread) [Listening] "Nobody Knows How To Be A Fan Anymore" from Vibe Check [Watching] The Sheep Detectives WHERE I LIKE TO GO AROUND TOWN As an engaged community member, I try to support local businesses that in turn support queer and trans communities and are owned by women, Black and Indigenous people, or LGBTQ+ folks. Below are a few of my go-to local shops and restaurants in Moorhead (and a few in Fargo).
Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Sharpie Neon [Permanent Marker]
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Current Curiosities
[Reading] Game Changers Rachel Reid [Listening] "Go West" by Pet Shop Boys [Watching] Heated Rivalry and Red, White & Royal Blue (rewatches) Over the last few weeks, I've free-written and reflected on what to write about for this Pride season. Nothing seemed right for our current polycrisis. Last year, I wrote about how to protect ourselves while attending Pride events and how allies can practice their allyship, so no need for a redux. Then as I was listening to Game Changers on Spotify, enjoying all the smut (complimentary!) and laugh-snorting at the narrator's interpretation of Kip's New York accent while reminiscing about my own early queer explorations, I realized I was feeling joy for the first time in what felt like weeks. I knew I wanted to write about queer joy, my recent queer joy. I've written about finding joy before, but with ever-increasing Christian and MAGA anti-trans and anti-queer bigotry and violence, I want to focus particularly on queer joy. Queer joy promotes flourishing and whimsy and delight. Queer joy exists in acts big and small, public and private. Queer joy is the counterpoint to the trauma and violence inflicted on our communities by cishet culture. Queer joy is survival and liberation and celebration. One thing brining me queer joy this season is seeing how many LGBTQ+ folks feel comfortable coming into the local hardware store where I work. When my federal research grants were canceled in 2025 by the Trump Administration (because my work focused on collaborating with women and minority-owned businesses and educational institutions), I began working at my neighborhood hardware store. As a queer person, it hasn't always been easy working at this particular hardware store. Spaces like this are designed for cishet men and are not always safe for queer and trans folks. However, in my year of working at the shop, I've noticed an increase in queer and trans customers visiting the store. Some are regulars. Some are first-timers. Some are elders. Some are college students temporarily living the valley. I love seeing more queer folks shopping, feeling comfortable asking questions and taking up space - space not intended for us. And I love every minute of collaboratively problem solving whatever challenge they bring into the hardware store. Helping to build a more inclusive hardware store community brings this queer joy. Being kind and creative and useful brings this queer joy. What brings you queer joy this Pride season? I wish y'all love and joy this Pride season! And please remember to hydrate! Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Sharpie Mini [Permanent Marker] P.S. As always, cops do not belong at Pride. Every queer and trans person, regardless of citizenship status, race or ethnicity, deserves to feel safe celebrating Pride. As Roxane Gay wrote in her thoughtful 2021 New York Times opinion piece, police harassment of LGBTQ+ communities did not start with the Stonewall Riots and did not end afterward. And BIPOC queer and trans communities bear the brunt of contemporary police harassment. Current Curiosities
[Reading] Diarios de Motocicleta: Notas de un Viaje por América Latina by Ernesto Che Guevara [Listening] Someday My Prince Will Come by Miles Davis [Watching] Marvel Zombies Summary: North Dakota LGBTQ+ Summit Professional Development Workshop What I've researched and written below was originally part of my workshop, Queering the Labyrinth: Navigating Human Resources, at the North Dakota LGBTQ+ Summit, but I wound up coming down with whooping cough. In 2025. Uff da. I had great plans for individual reflections and connecting circles and collaborative problem solving. The best laid plans and all that. I do hope to facilitate a version of this workshop in the future. Anyway, what I've written below are some tips on how queer and trans professionals can attempt to protect themselves in increasingly hostile work environments. But protect ourselves from whom??? From the colleague casually using slurs in office conversations??? No. From the supervisor telling you to ignore harassment from your team members??? No. From the department seemingly designed to handle reports of discrimination and harassment??? Yes. LGBTQ+ professionals need to learn to protect ourselves from Human Resources. Indeed, Human Resources was not designed to address the unique needs of queer and trans people. (HR barely addresses the needs of women — and women account for nearly half of the workforce!) HR as a system was designed by and for cisgender heterosexual (cishet) white men, which means HR's only interest is protecting capital and those (mostly white male) leaders at the top of the organizational chart. In order to protect the organization, HR professionals will side with white cishet responding parties over queer and trans (or BIPOC) reporting parties — because it's easier to terminate one LGBTQ+ person than to change the system (and workplace culture). In HR, individual positions function as agents of power within the system. Each agent is infinitely replaceable with each new agent maintaining the upward flow of power, all while having no power themselves — except by proximity, which is inherently corrupting. (Shout out to French philosopher Michel Foucault.) This also means that self-professed allies (ahem, cishet white women) and LGBTQ+ folks working in HR should not be trusted. Their proximity to white cishet power vis-á-vis HR policies and procedures positions them as your adversary not your ally, not your advocate as you navigate the labyrinthine reporting and investigatory process. A false sense of support and safety can emerge with alleged allies and LGBTQ+ community members in HR, which can and often does cause real harm. Always be cautious and critical of all HR professionals. You'll notice my tone is more adversarial than usual. As a queer professional, I've experienced harassment, discrimination, and workplace mobbing on corporate and college campuses. Believing I needed to follow the process, I nearly always reported my experiences under the false impression that reporting would help make the workplace better for me and my fellow LGBTQ+ colleagues. Instead, I often became the proverbial squeaky wheel. For example, as I was reporting a significant breach of university policy, a campus HR leader told me there was a line of people around the block waiting to take my job, so I should reconsider my complaint. These HR people, man. You should also note that I'm neither a lawyer nor a certified HR professional. Instead, I'm writing from my own experiences and what I learned navigating HR systems blindly and without allies or advocates. I'm writing from the vantage point of previously working in a campus Title IX office and seeing cases of clear-cut harassment and discrimination deliberately fall through the cracks in the system. I'm writing from an urge to protect fellow queer and trans professionals from the harms posed by Human Resources. A Brief Note on SHRM SHRM, or the Society for Human Resources Management, is an international professional organization for HR professionals — the world's largest, in fact. SHRM provides training and workshops for HR managers and lobbies local, state, and federal governments on behalf of corporate leaders. SHRM and its army of credential HR professionals set the tone for what is acceptable and unacceptable in professional workplaces. The outsized power SHRM possesses should not be discounted and should be critiqued. You'll recognize SHRM from its overplayed TV ads featuring its CEO suggesting civility is the key to productive workplaces. But what does civility mean for SHRM??? Honestly, I'm not sure. SHRM has a slippery relationship with words and definitions. But for what it's worth, conversations about civility often target marginalized people by limiting reasonable reactions or responses to workplace harassment and discrimination while tolerating anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-Black attitudes. Civility as an emergent HR concept works to silence underrepresented folks while emboldening bigots. While civility in the abstract is a good thing, civility as deployed by SHRM demonstrates HR's steadfast dedication to its founding roots — cishet white men. SHRM has a troubling record, too, when it comes to equity and inclusion. At its annual conference in September 2025, SHRM featured Robby Starbuck as a keynote speaker. Starbuck is well-known for his fight to end organizational DEI policies and practices, specifically targeting initiatives for LGBTQ+ folks and Black people. In 2021, notable anti-LGBTQ+ Fox News personality Gretchen Carlson spoke at SHRM's Inclusion Conference. And in 2019, Drew Brees, who supports and advocates for infamous anti-LGBTQ+ hate group Focus on the Family, also spoke at SHRM's Inclusion Conference. What does inclusion even mean anymore??? Moreover, SHRM removed equity from its DEI strategy in 2024, claiming the organization was rolling equity into inclusion and belonging. This move, however, ignores systemic and intersectional barriers addressed through an equity lens. With its global reach, SHRM is setting the standard, and by extension, the policies and procedures of many organizations. If inclusion for SHRM means featuring anti-queer and transphobic thought leaders, how can LGBTQ+ professionals trust any SHRM-certified HR professional to handle matters of discrimination and harassment honestly and objectively??? Honestly, when I see SHRM in an email signature block, I immediately become cautious and critical. And you should, too. Challenges of Reporting Harassment + Discrimination Making a report of anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination to a supervisor or HR staff member comes with potential consequences, including but not limited to termination (in states like North Dakota). Below are some considerations before submitting a discrimination or harassment complaint:
State + Federal Protections
Documentation Strategies The time to start documenting (as simple as daily journaling or saving all communications) is during the interview process. Continue this practice for the duration of your employment. The accretion of evidence is key to proving patterns of harassment and discrimination or a hostile work environment.
Single-Party Consent Both North Dakota and Minnesota are single-party consent states. In single-party consent states, you can record conversations as long as you have consent of one party. You, yes you are the consenting party and do not need to disclose to the other parties present. (Again, double-check signed contracts and nondisclosure agreements.)
Your iPhone will save the date, time, and location for every recording and you can add notes. Resources
Final Advice Unfortunately, my ultimate advice is if you experience anti-queer or anti-trans discrimination and harassment in the workplace, begin searching for a new job immediately. (I know it's challenging in our current Trumpy economy.) Do not report your experiences to HR. Reporting will only put a target on your back. (Again, for HR it's easier to eliminate one queer or trans employee than properly investigate hostile working conditions.) Once you've secured a new position and have submitted your notice, do not participate in exit interviews or surveys. Your responses will be held against you (if you need a reference or decide to reapply at a later date). And your responses will change nothing, will not prevent others from experiencing what you experienced in the workplace. The house always wins — and HR sets the house rules. Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Modern Fuel Click Pencil [Mechanical Pencil] Current Curiosities
[Reading] One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This by Omar El Akkad [Listening] The back catalog of Let's Talk About Myths, Baby [Watching] The Mortician on HBOMax Trainings, Transitions, and Maps In 2022, as a learning partner for a hella conservative construction company, I was sent to Salt Lake City to become a mindset workshop facilitator. My professional objective was to bring this training back to the organization and share its capitalist gospel with internal teams and external project partners. (The workshop seemed to be heavily influenced by Mormonism in ways I cannot fully articulate. Also, the training lacked any discussion of difference or inclusion in the workplace.) I was excited to travel to Salt Lake, home of the newest Real Housewives franchise, and experience the heart of Mormon culture, which I'd only encountered through Big Love and Nightly News reports on the church's anti-LGBTQ+ doctrine. My personal objective during off-training hours was to become a Harriet the Spy-style anthropologist to better understand these new Bravo women. However, I never actually got the chance because the training was in the northern suburbs far from iconic locations like Beauty Lab + Laser (and the parking lot where it happened!). Anyway, on the first day of the workshop, we were asked by the charismatic facilitator (who looked like the dad from 7th Heaven or a sober Pete Hegseth) to introduce ourselves one by one. Half of the participants came from the same Utah-based anti-LGBTQ+ Christian counseling organization. When it was my turn, I mentioned my corporate role and company, and then pointedly said I'm a freelance LGBTQ+ inclusion and professional development consultant while looking each of them in the eye. I've spent much of my life making myself small for the comfort of the cishets (including at the company sending me to this particular training) and I was not going to tolerate cishet nonsense in this collaborative learning space. As I mentioned in the last post, I will speak up to a fault particularly to support and advocate for queer and trans folks. Others introduced themselves: mapmakers, programmers, social workers, more corporate trainers. I listened with interest and noted who might be fun to have lunch with. Though to be honest, this introvert was exhausted after making my small queer stand during introductions and wanted to sit by myself in the sun. (It had been a frigid March in Minnesota, and honestly, I was happy to be by myself several states away from my corporate colleagues.) When we broke for lunch, I grabbed my catering box and headed outside away from everyone else to recharge. As I ate, my gaze shifted from the nearby mountains to Instagram and back again. Quietly, one of my classmates approached and asked if she could sit with me. She was curious about my consulting work. I mentioned the cancer center where I facilitated a customized Safe Zone for medical providers and shared some of the difficulties leading LGBTQ+ Programs at a conservative land-grant university (a story for another day). She was curious and asked many questions about queer and trans experiences. In turn, I asked about her work as a cartographer because as a former postcolonial scholar I'm fascinated by maps with their encoded histories, shifting borders, and changing place names. It was a great conversation. Then she became quiet. I asked if she was okay, and she responded that her teenager had recently come out as transgender. She was struggling with what this meant for the child she knew and their new gender identity and expression. She wanted her teen to know she loved and supported them, but at the same time, she wasn't sure how to navigate this change. Mostly, I listened, though I asked the occasional question. Sometimes folks just need space to be heard where they can work safely through their thoughts. As with many parents of queer and trans children, she was struggling to reconcile the person she thought she knew with this seemingly new person. I stressed that her child was still her child, that they are the same person whom she's always loved. But now, they were comfortable sharing their whole self with her. And this was evidence she had created a loving and supportive parent-child relationship. This didn't quite convince her, so I switched tactics. I love a good metaphor, especially in learning spaces when grappling with challenging or abstract ideas. My new cartographer friend was from a European country, whose name and borders had changed over the centuries due to shifting empires and war. I analogized the land as the person her child is (and has always been) and the changing borders and place names as the transition. The land and the people are still the same, only the descriptions we use have changed. As a mapmaker, this made sense to her — thank Hermes! She planned to use my ham-handed metaphor when she spoke with her parents to help them become more comfortable with her teenager's gender identity. I was honored she felt comfortable sharing her story with me and happy to help her navigate this new terrain. This is why speaking up, advocating is so important — it lets folks know who you are and where you stand and that you are (potentially) a safe person to talk to. Our lunchtime conversation brought me back to life after a dull morning seated in that workshop in a way silence, sunshine, and mountain views may not have. Over the next four days, powered by thin conference coffee, I asked blunt questions about inclusion and highlighted the importance of difference in the workplace much to the annoyance of the facilitator and the gathered anti-LGBTQ+ counselors. I never heard how my new mapmaking friend's conversations with her child and parents went after she returned home. Occasionally, I think about our lunchtime conversation and wonder, but then I remember I was present in the moment and that's what matters. This experience reminded me of why I'm drawn to the work I do: teaching, coaching, community engagement. I'm built to support others on their journeys, which often means I never actually see the journey's end, but that is the work. Put another, hella clichéd way, I may help to plant the seeds, but very rarely do I get to see them bloom, but that again is the work. So I will continue on my own journey being a happy little gardener, supporting the growth and success of queer and trans folks (and the occasional ally) — while weeding out bigots. Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today's Pen(cil): TWSBI ECO-T [Fountain Pen] | Sailor Shikiori Souten [Ink] Yesterday, I attended a faculty and staff listening session hosted by the campus executive council. What struck me most during this town hall were the many colleagues seeking answers and reassurances (receiving neither) about how to best protect queer and trans (and BICPOC) students, staff, and faculty from not only the Trump administration, but also the North Dakota legislature — both of which are actively targeting, dehumanizing, and attempting to erase LGBTQ+ communities from society. Again and again, colleagues asked the campus executive council how the university plans to handle laws designed to discriminate against queer and trans members of the campus community. And each time this concern was raised, the executive council, which is mostly male and mostly white, responded with we will follow the law.* We. Will. Follow. The. Law. We will follow the law landed darkly and reminded me of the good Germans who reported Jewish and LGBTQ+ people to Nazis (original recipe, not our current Trump-Musk variety). Law-abiding Germans looked the other way as Nazis rounded up Jewish and LGBTQ+ people and sent them to concentration camps. Good, law-abiding Germans enabled genocide. Moreover, in the United States, slavery was the law of the land for hundreds of years, and segregation was legal for at least an additional century. At what point do we stop following unjust laws, laws designed to discriminate, dehumanize, and cleanse people from society? We. Will. Follow. The. Law. This response from the campus executive council was bone-chilling and highlighted the limits of allyship. Allyship is rarely unwavering, nearly always conditional. Allies have the privilege of dropping their allyship as soon as they face any challenge, any test of their mettle.
For me, this campus executive council listening session resurfaced a question I've returned to again and again since the 2024 Election: Are allies worth the effort when allies can and often do sell you out to protect themselves at the slightest inconvenience? I've spent my post-academic life working toward LGBTQ+ equity, inclusion, and belonging — encouraging straight folks to become allies and advocates for queer and trans communities. Over the years, I've received threats and slurs from colleagues on college and corporate campuses. But I continued to coach one-on-one and facilitate workshops on allyship because I believed the work was important and would lead to a better, more inclusive world. But we are experiencing the regrowth of fascism at an alarming rate through Trump's executive orders, general Republican bigotry, and the indifference of good white people — and now I'm no longer sure allyship is worth the time and energy. So in this atmosphere of rapidly rising fascism and waining allyship, I am winding down Creighton Brown Consulting, which offered individual LGBTQ+ professional development and organizational workshops, to focus on Rough-Draft Thinking, which will explore my thoughts on queer and trans inclusion and other curiosities. The next post will be (hopefully?) lighter in tone. Though I will always be me and will to a fault speak up. Here are a few things that have exercised my curiosity, caused me to reflect, and delighted me lately:
I look forward to you joining me on this journey — and would love your recommendations! Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Sharpie [Permanent Marker] * The listening session was recorded and distributed via campus email. Fellow inclusion and belonging facilitators, I am begging y’all – please stop using the iceberg metaphor in your DEI workshops. Whether intentionally or not, you are communicating to your audience that those unseen aspects of ourselves, which lie out of sight below the water, are potentially dangerous. A better visual metaphor is prairie grass.
Iceberg as Visual Metaphor Of particular note, Freud (yes, that Freud) is the one who gave us the iceberg as a visual metaphor to understand the conscious, preconscious, and unconscious minds. He mapped onto the iceberg the conscious mind (thoughts and perceptions) above the waterline, preconscious mind (memory and knowledge) just below the waterline where light still penetrates, and unconscious mind (instincts and fears) deep in the darkness below the waterline. As with any novel metaphor, Freud’s use of the iceberg evolved over time into the trite visual aid we see today in too many DEI workshop spaces. As anyone who’s watched Titanic knows, the danger posed by icebergs lies below the water’s surface (where Freud's unconscious mind with its fears is located) with a small piece jutting visibly above the ocean’s choppy plane. In many DEI workshops, facilitators ask participants to map onto a blank iceberg those visible parts of themselves onto the smaller part of the iceberg above the waterline. These observable parts often include race, (apparent) gender, actions, language, style, profession, etc. Then facilitators ask participants to map the invisible, the unknown parts of themselves onto the larger below the water portion of the iceberg. These unobservable parts can include age, disability, religion, culture, sexual orientation, morals and values, etc. By mapping these invisible parts of ourselves, which are meaningful and impactful aspects of who we are, facilitators are intentionally or unintentionally communicating to their workshop participants that these unseen parts of our identities pose a risk to the safety of others and are potentially dangerous. Prairie Grass as a More Meaningful Metaphor A better metaphor for the seen and unseen aspects of our identities is prairie grass. Prairie grass is often as tall above ground as it is deeply rooted below ground – creating a mirror, showing the visible and invisible as equally meaningful and impactful. Unlike the grass in your front (or back) lawn, which has shallow, superficial root systems, prairie grass’s roots reach deep into the earth, grounding each stalk, allowing it to grow equally as high into the air. We can still map the visible and invisible parts of our identities onto prairie grass with the stalks representing what others can easily observe about us and the roots demonstrating what is unobservable to others. And the roots are the key to this new metaphor. Unlike the solitary iceberg floating alone in the ocean, prairie grass roots reach out to each other, interlocking, creating stability and community. The interconnected roots communicate that no one is a lone reed (yes, I am referencing You’ve Got Mail), that we exist in community. We gain strength and nourishment from these unobserved parts of ourselves. And these unobserved parts of ourselves are not dangerous, but instead they ground us and offer opportunities to more deeply connect with those around us. Prairie grass’s stalks and roots work collaboratively to sustain the whole plant – and no part (consciously or unconsciously) of the anatomy of prairie grass (as metaphor) communicates the unseen parts of ourselves are dangerous. Thank you very much for your time and consideration. If you have questions, curiosities, or are interested in learning more about inclusion and leadership possibilities for yourself or your organization, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Musgrave Pencil Company My-Pal 2020 [Wood Pencil] Welcome to Rough-Draft Thinking, a blog where I will reflect on the inclusion media and ideas I consume and my experiences as a queer educator, consultant, and engaged community member living, working, and dog-walking in the Red River Valley.
I chose to title my blog Rough-Draft Thinking, a phrase I’ve used with students, friends, and family for years, because it creates space for initial, unpolished thoughts. Rough-draft thinking leaves open the possibility of learning and growth through revision of perspectives and ideas. Rough-draft thinking relies on curiosity over judgment, on closely and actively listening to others. (Yes, like many of you, I’m also drawn to the lesson in that particular Ted Lasso scene.) As a former college educator, I encouraged curiosity over judgment, though I didn’t realize it at the time. When I started teaching in the English Department at the University of Kansas, I made the decision to comment on rough-draft student essays in pencil rather than pen or cumbersome Microsoft Word comments. I liked physically holding my students’ ideas in my hands. I liked responding as a reader in marginal comments and writing a quick supportive endnote to each student in pencil. I like the pretense of impermanence graphite offers. Graphite’s erasability quietly connotes that writing (and learning) is a process, requiring revision, further development of ideas – reminding students nothing is fixed permanently in place. And most mistakes are fixable, are opportunities to exercise curiosity, learn, and grow. By commenting on student rough-drafts in pencil, I also encouraged progress over perfection and practice is the point. Though, as a recovering perfectionist, I occasionally have to remind myself about the importance of celebrating progress and honoring the experience of practice, so I draft posts or outline projects in pencil, first, before committing them to the digital spaces. (For those curious, my favorite pencil for writing is the Musgrave Tennessee Red.) As an organizational learning partner, I actively incorporated curiosity over judgment, progress over perfection, and practice is the point into every workshop I created and during every one-on-one coaching session. And now I bring these lessons into my work as an inclusion and leadership consultant. My goals for Rough-Draft Thinking are to:
Thank you very much for your time and for joining me on this adventure! And I cannot wait to start a conversation with y’all! Sending y'all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today's Pen(cil): Blackwing 602 [Wood Pencil] Half the pressure, twice the speed |
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