Hi, I'm Nate.

People often tell me the same thing after we've talked for a while:

"I've never been asked that before."

To me, that's one of the greatest compliments I can receive.

Because I don't believe the most important work happens when we have all the answers. I think it happens when someone encounters a question that helps them see themselves, their community, or their work in a completely new way.

Everything I do—writing, storytelling, leadership development, design, ministry, and strategy—begins there.

Why questions?

My family used to call me Señorita Pregunta—"Miss Question."

Long before I had language for being trans, disabled, or a storyteller, I had questions.

I wanted to know why people believed what they believed. Why some stories endured while others disappeared. Why one person felt at home while another spent their life searching for belonging.

Looking back, I don't think I was collecting answers as much as I was learning to notice.

And I've been practicing that kind of noticing ever since.

What do I keep noticing?

The more people I meet, the less interested I become in having the right answers.

Instead, I find myself noticing patterns.

  • The stories we inherit.

  • The assumptions we stop questioning.

  • The people history forgets.

  • The quiet work of building belonging.

  • The moments when someone finally feels seen.

Those patterns have become the compass for everything I write, design, build, and teach.

What makes a good question?

Over the years, I've learned that the best questions aren't designed to impress people.

They're designed to make room.

Room for someone to remember something they had forgotten.
Room for a community to see itself more clearly.
Room for an idea that didn't have language yet.

The questions I return to again and again aren't complicated:

  • Who isn't being seen?

  • What story are we taking for granted?

  • What becomes possible if we begin somewhere else?

Those questions have shaped nearly everything I've built since.

Where have my questions taken me?

Over the years, those questions have led me into classrooms, newsrooms, nonprofit organizations, conference halls, faith communities, and countless conversations around kitchen tables.

Sometimes I've been invited to write. Sometimes to design, organize, facilitate, or build. More often than not, I've been invited to help people find language for something they already knew was true but hadn't yet found the words to express.

I'm grateful for every invitation.


What happens when we work together?