I used to have a desk in the university staff room at work. During Lockdown someone helped themselves to my two china mugs. People insisted they must be somewhere and that I’d find them. I never did.

At the end of last academic year we were asked to clear our desks for renovations to make the office bigger. To accommodate new staff. When we returned there were no personal desks. We hot-desk.

In the yoga studio I used to practice in a different spot every day and then I realised that I didn’t have to …and neither did anyone else.

A safe space is a place where I can go. I can be. I can belong. My space.

I even have a place in the yoga studio changing room. My spot.

Hiding in plain sight. Surviving in spaces where I don’t belong. Spaces where I am not welcome. School as a student. The BBC as a journalist. University as an academic.

My spots – the yoga mat, the changing room bench, and the university canteen are my safe spaces.

Finding a spot within the bigger unwelcome space is how I survive. It’s how we, the outsiders, thrive.