Tag: she leaves a little sparkle

Openness

Kristine Binder

I have always believed that honesty—about our struggles, our joys, our fears, our wins, and even our messiness—creates connection. When we share openly, we allow others to know that they are not alone. And in a world that can feel isolating, that matters more than we realize.
Recently, I’ve had three different people reach out to me about posts I’ve made—posts I had no idea had such an impact. They told me that something I shared inspired them, made them feel seen, helped them find their own strength, or simply reminded them that there are safe spaces in this world. They didn’t “like” the post. They didn’t comment. But they saw it. They felt it. And when they were ready, they reached out privately. 
That’s the thing about sharing our truth: we never really know who needs to hear it.
Sometimes, we post something and feel like it disappears into the void, but I promise you—it doesn’t. People see, they absorb, and they carry those words with them. Maybe they’re not in a place where they can respond, but they’re listening. They’re processing. And when the moment comes, when they need that reminder that they’re not alone, they’ll remember…and they may reach out.
I share my story and my thoughts because I want people to know that this world still holds kindness, still holds love, still holds safe spaces. That it’s okay to struggle. That strength doesn’t always look like perfection. That we are all walking this crazy path together….and if you need to know someone is (or has been) sitting in the same shit, I am here. 
So if you’ve ever hesitated to share something real—whether it’s a hard truth, a personal victory, or just a moment of vulnerability—remember that your voice might be the one that helps someone else find theirs. Keep being open. Keep showing up. You never know who you’re reaching. I know I will!
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Banned

Kristine Binder

Today, I wandered into Half Price Books—just to browse, of course. While I was there, I pulled “The Color Purple” off the shelf, and a young woman (younger than me, probably late 20s) noticed and asked me about it. That little question sparked the most incredible conversation.
She and her friend, who was also carrying a stack of books, showed me a list of banned books on their phone. They’d made it their mission to read through the ones they hadn’t read—or were supposed to read in high school but didn’t—and were buying books to share among their circle of friends. I told her I had just posted yesterday about adding banned books I hadn’t read to my reading list, and her face lit up. She said so many of their coworkers and friends were doing the same thing—as small acts of resistance and education
And this… this is the power of books. The importance of reading. The strength of community. Books teach us, challenge us, remind us of who we are and who we can be.
So, I’ll ask: What are you reading? What’s on your list? Have you read any banned books recently? What banned books have you read that you would recommend to others? And how will you resist today?
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Grief

Kristine Binder

Grief is a strange, relentless companion. It comes in waves, some so powerful they knock me off my feet, while others gently lap at my ankles before receding into the background. Lately, though, the waves feel more like a storm. The world is so heavy right now, and I can feel that weight pressing down on my chest. Everywhere I turn, there seems to be another loss, another heartbreak, another reason to grieve.
Losing my dad has been a pain I can hardly describe. It’s not just the absence of his voice or his laugh—it’s the absence of his presence in my life, the anchor he provided, the memories we’ll never create. On top of that, dear friends of mine are mourning loved ones. A young person I cherished as if they were my own has left this world far too soon. Each loss feels like another stone added to the pile I carry, threatening to bury me.There are moments when it all feels so overwhelming that I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and disappear. The thought of facing another day, carrying another burden, is sometimes too much to bear. But then there are other moments—moments when that grief fuels a fire in me to fight. To show up for my children, my students, my community. To prove that love and resilience can be louder than hate and despair.
Being my mother’s emergency contact now is a new weight I hadn’t prepared for. It’s a role that feels heavy with responsibility and the reminder of how fragile life is. Sometimes, the pressure of it all feels like it might crush me. But then I remember: forward is my pace. Even if it’s just baby steps, I keep moving. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.
Grief, I’ve learned, doesn’t go away. It shifts, it changes, and it continues to wash over me in unexpected moments. Some days, I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. Other days, I find glimmers of peace when the waves recede. But within those waves, I try to find the strength to swim. To reach out to others. To remind myself that while the world feels heavy, we don’t have to carry it alone.
Peace is not always easy to find, but it is there—waiting in the moments when the waves recede, offering us the chance to catch our breath. Let’s take those baby steps together, reminding ourselves that we don’t have to face it alone. In the moments when the storm calms, we can find breath, and maybe even hope, together.
If you’re reading this and you’re feeling the weight of your own grief, know that you’re not alone. Take those baby steps, no matter how small. Cry if you need to. Rest if you can. Fight when you’re ready. And remember: forward is always a pace.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Deserving

Kristine Binder

The world shifted on January 20, 2025. So much of what we once knew and relied on seems to have vanished. Countless people now feel unsafe in their own country, and those who love them are grappling with helplessness.
I wish I could offer something profound or inspirational, but I don’t have all the answers. I’m not here to lead the way. I’m here to sit in this moment—in all its messiness—right alongside you. I’ll sit with these feelings for a while longer, and then I’ll do what I do best: share kindness and love. I’ll rise to protect those I love and care for. I’ll fight for the vulnerable.
Everyone deserves to feel safe, loved, and valued—whether at home, in school, at work, or in their communities. No one should endure rejection, discrimination, or harm because of who they are, where they are from  or who they love. The attacks on LGBTQIA+ and immigrant communities are not just political; they are assaults on human dignity. They fracture families, friendships, and communities, and they serve no purpose but to spread division and pain.
To every transgender, queer, nonbinary, and marginalized individual: Your life MATTERS. You are seen. You are powerful. Your life has purpose and meaning. Walking in your truth is an act of courage and strength, and every step you take toward being your authentic self shows the resilience that lies within you. You are deserving of love, respect, and kindness. Your existence brings light and beauty to the world. Please remember that you are valued, you are enough, and you are deeply loved. The world is brighter and better because of you. 
I will continue to show up, speak up, and stand up for immigrant and vulnerable communities. Advocacy has always been a part of who I am, but now I’m stepping fully into that role with unwavering determination. We can feel everything—grief, fear, anger—but then we move forward. We count down the days of the next four years, yes, but let’s not forget that we can make a difference much sooner by taking action right now.
Take the time you need to process your feelings. If you need a hug, a listening ear, or just someone to sit with you in the stillness, I’m here. But I won’t let you stay in that place too long. We have work to do.
I love you.
You matter.
You belong.
Together, we rise, move forward, to create a better, kinder, more accepting world.

Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Choose

Kristine Binder

Every morning, I take a walk. Sometimes it’s with my dog, but yesterday, it was just me. It was warm out as I rounded the corner to head back home. I noticed a young man who seemed a bit overwhelmed.
As I crossed the street and got closer, I asked if he needed any help, assuring him that I wasn’t trying to be creepy, just helpful. He looked at me and started to tear up. I felt horrible and quickly said, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He explained that he was having a rough morning because he was starting a new job and was extremely nervous. Tears fell as he tried to wipe the sweat off his face. I pulled a napkin out of my pocket and helped him, since his hands were full.
I then asked where he was headed and if he’d like some company on the rest of his walk, since I was headed home. He said yes, and we walked and talked. He shared his worries about the new job and some personal stories. I listened and empathized.
When we arrived at the entrance to his new workplace, I wished him good luck and we said our goodbyes. As I walked the rest of the way home, I was filled with so many emotions.
There are no coincidences, only God incidents. We are put where we are needed; we just need to be aware. We never know what people are going through, and sometimes a simple act of kindness can make a life-changing difference.
Choose Kindness.
Choose Love.
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace