The aroma filled my nose instantly. It was heavy and unpleasant, yet I was intrigued. Not intrigued like a good dinner and happy hour deal, but intrigued like a dangerous curiosity, knowing something is wrong, but wanting to look into it anyway. I made my way home from work, having finished the second day of orientation at Sanctuary for Families.

After sitting through four insightful presentations, one on NY laws related to custody and visitation and one on helping clients receive public benefits, I was honestly tired. I passed by the local Krispy Kreme and remembered I had 4 donuts left in my own box in my room. That almost made me smile, if it was not for this odd smell that was hogging all of my mind’s focus.

Once I got home, I realized that this smell was the smoke of wildfires that were taking place in Canada. At first, I did not pay this any mind, and I swiped past the Instagram post that informed me. I remained inside my place relaxing the rest of the evening.

That next day when I woke up, I could tell that the smoke had got way worse. Not only could you smell it, but you could see it. The city looked the same, except now it had an orange, hazy filter on it. By now, my timeline was filled with news on what was happening. I grabbed my mask, cringing at the thought of having to put a mask back on, and headed to work. Despite the smoke smelling and looking so bad, the city barely slowed down. People were still out moving around, but everyone had subtle looks of shock and confusion on their faces.

As day three of the legal department’s orientation began at SFF, I thought to myself, why did this have to happen now? That thought did not last long, as I tried to get rid of this selfishness. After all, I had plenty of facemasks, a place to stay inside, and much more. This smoke would not affect me as much as it probably would others.

Nevertheless, the day went on. I attended a Sanctuary for Families Gala and Paddle Raising Auction on Pier Sixty, in which I volunteered. Over $300,000 was raised for Sanctuary for Families’ services and clients. I was able to attend the after party, filled with SFF staff, volunteers/interns, and the invited guests. From Seth Meyers to Al B. Sure, there were hundreds of seemingly successful people. I told myself I would network, but once the legendary DJ Flash got on the turntables, it seemed like all everyone, including myself, could do was dance. This instinctive feeling of letting go and dancing brought more joy than networking could have to me, so I am glad that this is how the after-party played out.

Leaving the event brought me back to the reality of the smokey outdoors, and I made my way home masked up.  As of now, the sky seems much clearer, and it seems as if the air quality is getting better. Although not as desirable as a sunset between skyscrapers, another spectacle has made my second week here in NYC memorable, for sure.

Discomfort did not only exist in the air I was breathing though, but also in the material I was learning. Readings that we had this week, such as Detransition Baby and Cat Person sent my mind and previous perceptions of gender, sexuality, boundaries, narcissism, and objectification into a whirlwind— all twisted up and never the same. I cannot describe the uneasiness I felt when reading parts of these works, in which it seems like every character is wrong in their own non-comparative way. The discussion for such readings was tough and personal, but that is what is needed for real change and self-growth to take place. Unlike the discomfort of the smoke, a discomfort that forced you to avoid it in shelter, the discomfort from the readings was more welcoming. Similarly to how I was looking at them, the words of the readings seemed to also be looking at me, daring me to expand beyond my previous knowledge and to dive into their world of new fixations, filled with kinks and pleasures, of which I would have a lot to learn about.

Knowing that I am not the best when it comes to properly gendering, I was hesitant to the discomfort of these readings. (Gendering is something I struggle with, despite my good-intentions). Even more so, I had never spoke about gendering and transitioning before with  people who identified as LGBTQ+, so it seemed like every word I let out was another step out on a block of a minesweeper game, just awaiting for the moment in which I would say something “cancellable”.

Cat Person was much of the same type of discussion, as I felt my self stuck between calling the main character egotistical and narcissistic, despite feeling as if she had been taken advantage of. But by who? The man whom she initiated so much with? By herself? By both? I could not decide, and trying to voice this confusion was an even harder decision. The discomfort of the readings and the discussion combined worked together much like the smoke and the mask did for me. The readings, much like the smoke, were tough, but I initially assumed them to be manageable. But once it was time for the discussion, much like it once it was time to put the face masks back on, I immediately felt the weight of the unknown on my shoulders, pressing me down.