Amelia (she/her)

I left a 20-year career in software development at the end of 2022, exhausted from two decades of fighting to try and improve things "from the inside." Disillusioned with the pervasive racism, sexism, ableism, and other discrimination and oppression rampant in the "tech" world, I set out to begin the Disability-Driven Development initiative, and started SpoonStack as a gathering place for my technological projects.

You can find me on Mastodon at @mordremoth@lgbt.io. I also write (about quite a few things!) over on my blog at Starship Gender.

From the beginning of SpoonStack, I've known that the individualistic culture of the tech industry is deeply problematic and a potent inhibitor of the kind of creative intimacy and innovative, radical, collective dreaming I want to do with this project. Because of this, an emphasis on relationship and community has been a central principle of the work from the start. As a reflection of this, I have relied on my relationship with a very important partner and collaborator, Quinn - not only as a companion in the endeavours of SpoonStack, but of my life in general.

Quinn provides a vital grounding and rooting in the principles of relationship and community, through their extraordinary ability to connect with people deeply and authentically. It is this anchor that enables me to dream wide and large with my technical work, assured that together we will not forget or leave anyone behind; and it is their enduring and wondrous spirit that I trust to suffuse everything we create with an invitation to anyone else who wishes to come along for the journey.

Quinn (they/them)

For most of my adult life, I fit the stereotype of the burnt-out former gifted kid: everyone said I had exceptional talent and potential (both intellectual and creative), but whenever I started at a new college or workplace, I'd end up either overwhelmed, frustrated with the way things were done, or painfully bored, and I would leave.

Things first began to shift when serendipity opened a path for me to a career in bodywork. Suddenly, my sensitivity - to touch; to light, sound, and décor and to emotions - was a strength rather than a liability. Also, running my own business meant I could finally accommodate my needs, from setting my own schedule (including time off), to designing my work space to soothe my senses, to choosing what kind of clients I wanted to work with. I had finally found a place in society, and a way to contribute to the wellness of my community, while honoring my capacity.

However, while my skills and support could offer relief of pain and discomfort, for many of my clients, the effects were temporary due to the stresses of their lives under white supremacy culture and colonial capitalism. I wanted to be able to do more.

Amelia and I met in August of 2020, when ageism and ableism were painfully salient - there was a pre-vaccine push for remote workers to return to the office, and the risk to older adults and disabled people was framed as acceptable collateral damage. It was a relief to be able to talk at length with someone else with a deep and nuanced understanding of how the wellness of each of us is inextricably intertwined with all of us. This relationality is the foundation of our shared ethos, and the root from which we are growing Disability-Driven Development.

Nurturing this project into being is possible because our relationship has shown us what we are capable of when we fall in love with pursuing our joy. This work is full of curiosity, exploration, imagination, experimentation, and playfulness. It's about connecting with ourselves, with each other, and - we hope - someone like you.

Although I'm not on social media much these days, you might be able to find some of my writing at Queer(y)ing with Quinn.