Welcome to Refinery29’s Feel Good Diaries, where we chronicle the physical and mental wellness routines of women today, their costs, and whether or not these self-care rituals actually make you feel good.

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Today: A freelancer living in Georgia spends this week working out at dance class, relaxing in the bath, and hanging out with her girlfriend.

Age: 24
Location: Atlanta, GA
Occupation: Freelance writer
Salary: ~$40,000/year

This diary was written in December 2020.

Day One

2:15 p.m. — I’ve recently become more interested in podcasts and decided to check out one called Real Pod by Victoria Garrick. She’s a body image advocate, and her content has helped me through my own struggles. I listen to about 30 minutes of her seventh podcast episode, featuring Elise Lougee, while I fold laundry. They talk about toxic body image and specifically the pressures within the dance industry. Their conversation makes me feel more calm and comforted.

While I’ll probably always struggle with body image to some degree, listening to podcasts that normalize those struggles and discuss body diversity and body positivity encourages me. By listening to Garrick’s podcast — and watching her TikToks — I’m able to gain insights that help when I’m actively struggling with body dysmorphia. This particular episode mostly emphasized how I’m not alone when it comes to body judgments from myself and others.

7:30 p.m. — I leave my dance class feeling tired, sweaty, out of breath, and happy. My mom pays for my dance classes, thankfully — they’re $135 for 10 classes per month. Exercise isn’t my favorite thing to do, but I love dancing specifically, and the serotonin it gives me. This class in particular is great because it’s not too complicated, the moves are fun, and the teacher has a fantastic sense of humor. I try to not compare my body too much to other students’. It’s hard. Instead, I’m trying to appreciate my body for the dancing it allows me to do. Now it’s time to drive home, shower, and take a couple puffs of my inhaler. I have asthma, but it’s not too bad. I use my inhaler as needed — sometimes at night, sometimes after working out.

Daily Total: $0

Day Two

3 p.m. — I take a bubble bath with Bath and Body Works’ Stress Relief soap — the eucalyptus and spearmint scent is one of my favorites. While in the bath, I read my copy of Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine. Books help distract me from my daily anxieties. While I love a good, suspenseful book, one thing I appreciate about Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine is how chill and even humorous it is. It allows me to feel like I’m living in a calmer world.

Reading in a bubble bath is one of my favorite ways to de-stress and spend my alone time. I could take them multiple times a day, for hours at a time — but I stick to three to five baths a week. After I get out, I feel relaxed.

9:30 p.m. — Since I struggle to fall asleep sometimes, I take a 10 mg melatonin gummy to help me drift off. I try to not take more melatonin than I need, but also take enough that it will work efficiently. The taste of this gummy isn’t my favorite, but it usually kicks in within 20 to 45 minutes, which makes it worth it.

Not being able to fall asleep quickly enough stresses me out — I start having negative thoughts at night. My partner, meanwhile, always falls asleep so easily, which makes me a bit jealous. I’m thankful my melatonin helped me physically and emotionally in that way.

Daily Total: $0

Day Three

9 a.m. — Usually around one morning a week, when my partner goes into the office, I like to work on my writing assignments over breakfast at Panera Bread. I always order a bacon, scrambled egg, and cheese sandwich on brioche, a chocolate chip muffie, and a Dr. Pepper for caffeine since I don’t like coffee. This breakfast makes my heart, my mind, and my stomach happy. I also enjoy working at Panera because I only have a lap desk at home; having a whole table to work at feels luxurious. In addition, the music they play at Panera — while loud — is relaxing. $9.80

3 p.m. — Every two weeks, I FaceTime with my therapist in my car for an hour. She isn’t covered by my new insurance, but she allows me to pay only $50, which is the lowest amount on her sliding scale — and the cost is well worth it. I’ve gone to therapy for years now because I believe it can be helpful, no matter where you’re at in your life. She’s helped me handle some relationship conflicts and encouraged me in my freelance work. After talking out all the struggles I’d made note of over the past two weeks, I feel empowered, relaxed, and relieved. $50

10 p.m. — For a few weeks now I’ve been going to my church’s Young Adult Connect Group to make friends and lean more into my faith as a Christian. This week, we talk about vulnerability, faith, and Brené Brown. While I usually get anxious when I have to talk in groups, I appreciate how my friends there encourage what I say and laugh at my jokes. In this group, I feel heard and I both learn and laugh a lot. It rejuvenates me and gives me something to look forward to every other week. I wish we could meet more often — but at least when we do, our meetings last a few hours, since they combine both normal conversation and topic-based conversation! Tonight, we all enjoy the dessert I brought, which I’d made over Thanksgiving.

Daily Total: $59.80

Day Four

6 p.m. — I finish up a 60-minute dance class at the same place I went to on Monday. This particular class is usually more difficult for me, mentally. I’m not as familiar with the moves, which can make keeping up with the choreography difficult. But the people there are funny and kind, and that makes me feel better.

As I get ready to shower, I enjoy the post-workout endorphins and celebrate what my body can do. I really enjoy these dance classes every now and then, but I have to be careful to not over-exercise. I make sure that I go to dance for my mental health and physical health, and not to lose weight, because that mindset has been harmful for me in the past.

8 p.m. — I reconnect with one of my best friends on FaceTime after a while of not talking. We weren’t mad at each other, she’s just not the best at texting back. Talking to her always makes me feel better, especially when I can share difficult situations with her and she validates my feelings. We talk about our relationships, our favorite TV shows, what we’d been up to, and life in general for a little over an hour, before we both become tired and decide to hang up. During our conversation, she mentioned wanting to be better at responding to me in a timely fashion. I’m glad she said that and I’m looking forward to more frequent interactions.

Daily Total: $0

Day Five

12 p.m. — My girlfriend and I try to take our women’s One a Day vitamins daily, but we often forget. While we’re making lunch, we notice the bottle and each take one. They don’t taste the best, but I believe I need one since I probably don’t get all the minerals and nutrients I need each day through what I eat. This multivitamin helps with heart health, gut health, hair health, and more. Taking these doesn’t usually change my well-being in a noticeable way — maybe since I don’t take them daily — but I still believe taking them as close to daily as possible is important and helps my health somewhat.

10 p.m. — While my girlfriend is playing a game with her friends, I masturbate in our bed, watching a video to help. I wasn’t particularly turned on beforehand, I just wanted something to do. We lost our vibrator and are waiting for the second to arrive, or otherwise I would’ve used one. Emotionally, I actually feel a bit lonely during and after — though physically I feel good when I orgasm. Unfortunately, sometimes sex-related activities trigger my sexual assault memories, especially when I’m alone. I struggle with this for a bit before I’m able to pull myself out of it. This wasn’t my best masturbating “session,” but they can’t all be.

Daily Total: $0

Day Six

1:30 p.m. — I wake up from a nap so I can watch The Bachelorette with my friend virtually. I’m feeling tired, but don’t want to sacrifice our special time. I haven’t had lunch yet and know that food will give me some energy, so I make mac and cheese with peas. This is a food combination that people have teased me for eating, but I love it and appreciate how it combines a few food groups into one meal. I’m also craving something fruity, so after watching the episode, I pull out my plastic jar of mandarin oranges and eat them while my friend and I talk.

On average, I grocery shop about once a week or once every two weeks. I spend around $70 for my partner and me, and we either take turns paying or split it 50/50.

9 p.m. — Relationships play a crucial role in my emotional well-being. I depend on my friends, and they’ve often helped me handle life’s tough situations. Three of my college friends and I usually FaceTime once a week to play virtual games or watch something on Netflix together. This week, we play Codenames and Scattergories, then watch the last episode of Jack Whitehall: Travels with My Father on Netflix, which makes us all laugh. I’m thankful that I have that time with them to look forward to, no matter what’s going on in my life.

Daily Total: $0

Day Seven

3 p.m. — My girlfriend and I wake up from a nap and continue to lie in bed for a few minutes before having sex. We both orgasm — orgasms give me the biggest oxytocin rush, and making her orgasm makes me feel good too. We do a great job complimenting each other while we have sex, which makes me feel more comfortable and attractive. As someone who’s self-conscious and struggles with body image, I especially appreciate her affirmations. After having sex, I always want to cuddle a lot.

9:30 p.m. — Before going to bed, my girlfriend and I take a bath together, using the “‘F’” bath bomb from the “Da Bomb Bath” brand. The lavender smell is calming, and makes me feel happy and extra relaxed. The bath bomb came with a message: “Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.” Reading this reminded me to be grateful for the good things in life without focusing too much on the bad. Talking and joking around with my girlfriend in the bath also makes me feel happy in general and about our relationship, which is meaningful and plays a large role in my well-being.

Daily Total: $0

Weekly Total: $59.80

Reflection: My approach to wellness focuses primarily on my emotional and mental health. I’ve struggled with disordered eating before and today I don’t believe food has moral value, so I don’t place an emphasis on eating only “healthy” foods or anything like that. I also believe in the seven dimensions of wellness — spiritual, physical, emotional, career, intellectual, environmental, social — and do my best to take care of my entire self in certain ways, like going to therapy consistently. I don’t give in to diet culture ideals as often anymore, and I believe in Health at Every Size. I know health is more than just physical, and my wellness practices reflect that.

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It’s been a difficult year for skinny jeans lovers. In February, TikTok, Gen Z’s go-to platform, declared the It denim trend of the ‘00s “uncool” alongside side-parts and the laugh-cry emoji. Since then, it has left many millenials wondering, “What do I wear now?” Our suggestion: balloon jeans, also known as bubble and barrel pants. They’re loose, like the straight-leg styles that Gen Z approves of, but also boast a millenial-approved high-waist and tighter ankle hem. 

Even if you don’t base your wardrobe off what’s cool on TikTok, you have to admit: After almost two years of sweatpants, athleisure, and work-from-home comfort, performing the ever-seductive jumping-and-pulling dance to put on a pair of jeans so tight they might as well be leggings sounds less and less appealing Why not embrace styles like baggy jeans and parachute pants that will not only not make your legs feel like they are trapped in sausage casings but that are all over the biggest runways.

While the silhouette isn’t new — Tibi’s Brancusi pant and Totême’s barrel leg jeans have been part of the brands’ offerings for several seasons now —  this year, the look is more exaggerated and voluminous, making balloon jeans a cooler alternative to boot-cut jeans. This fall, many more mainstream brands, including Agolde, Madewell, and Cos, have jumped aboard the trend, too, with more styles available than ever before. For those who might be skeptical of the trend, brands like Frame, Eloquii, and Levi’s are offering styles that fall somewhere in between straight-leg and balloon pants with more curve-enhancing shapes rather than sharp angles.

By now, most skinny jeans lovers have countless day-to-night outfit formulas for their beloved denim trend. The reality is that nothing has to change with balloon jeans. You might want to take advantage of the current bodysuit craze (thanks, Skims) for a casual outfit that balances the fitted top with the jeans’ voluminous silhouette, paired with a set of sneakers for a day of errands, or a strappy heel to go out. For work, a pair of chunky loafers and an oversized blazer would do the trick.  

If you’re hoping for the 2022 return of skinny jeans — after all, fashion trends are cyclical (see: the return of the low-rise jeans) — we’re sorry to disappoint you: The spring 2022 runways were filled with baggy jeans, promising at least another six months of ‘90s-inspired styles. But, at the very least, balloon jeans will fill the time before skinnies make their eventual return. 

Make the most of the trend with some of the styles below. 

At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. If you buy something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission.

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On her left arm, Twitch streamer LittleNavi has a tattoo of WASD, the four keyboard keys PC gamers typically use to move their characters. “It’s ironic, though, because my left hand is the hand that has lost the most function over the years,” says Lorelei, who goes by LittleNavi online to preserve her anonymity. She was diagnosed in her 20s with relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis, a chronic condition that affects her central nervous system. “I remember thinking, ‘I can’t believe I got a tattoo of the WASD keys, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to use the WASD keys again.’”

A digital accessibility specialist from Ontario, Canada, Lorelei is one of 15% of people in the world living with disability or chronic illness, according to the World Bank. However, 30% of US gamers identify as disabled, as do 20% of gamers in the United Kingdom, per research firm Newzoo. While much progress has been made in the gaming industry in recent years, there are still barriers preventing the most inclusive experience for those living with disabilities, from a lack of basic in-game features to a broader ignorance regarding the community. Disability means something unique to everyone, and no individual experience, even within the same diagnosis, is the same. In order to move the needle toward greater accessibility in gaming, we must continue to create (and play) games with assistive technology, dismantle stigmatized perceptions of disability, and challenge ableist beliefs surrounding gaming.

Accessibility starts with the development of games themselves, and thankfully certain studios from major and indie developers are prioritizing inclusive features today more than ever, often with the help of hired accessibility consultants. Ubisoft Toronto’s Far Cry 6 boasts an expansive accessibility menu of audio and interface options, from enabling closed captioning for all in-game sounds to outlining certain enemies and items in different colors for people with visual disabilities. Eidos-Montréal’s Marvel’s Guardians of The Galaxy offers a custom difficulty mode of gameplay, which allows players to tailor specific aspects of the game to their needs, from adjusting how much damage they deal to enabling auto-win events. These types of highly customizable settings are essential for meeting the needs of as many players as possible — and the more options, the better. “No one or two implementations will make anything accessible for everyone, because no one or two implementations would even make things accessible for one person,” says Lorelei, whose energy levels and accessibility needs fluctuate from day to day.

More recently, gaming equipment companies have also begun prioritizing accessibility in their device designs such as the Xbox Adaptive Controller and Logitech Adaptive Gaming Kit, which allow players to customize their gaming experience with programmable buttons and external peripherals. The QuadStick, a mouth-operated controller, gives gamers a hands-free way to play. Even packaging has become more accessible, as seen with the Xbox Adaptive Controller, which provides a seamless unboxing thanks to low-effort tear strips and tuggable loops. “When I first got my [Xbox Adaptive Controller],” Lorelei recalls, “my hands were barely functioning. Being able to open that box by myself was actually a big deal, and made me a bit emotional.” Other equipment, like a 3D rudder, which allows players to control their movement with their feet, weren’t specifically created for those with disabilities, but allowed disabled players to expand their game pools. “That’s one thing about us disabled folks,” says Lorelei, who re-binded her WASD keys to her 3D rudder, “we’re incredibly adaptive.”

But all that additional equipment comes at a literal cost. Accessibility peripherals, from controllers to switches, can cost hundreds or even thousands of dollars — or a “disability tax,” as it’s known within the community. That doesn’t include potentially having to hire someone to install the equipment if you are unable to do so yourself, or spending $60 on a new game only to discover upon initial playthrough that there is a mechanic you cannot perform in order to progress the story.

“Oftentimes, the people who most need accessible tech are the ones least able to access it,” says Lorelei. “If you have a disability that’s going to make it difficult for you to use a standard controller, that disability might also make it difficult for you to find regular employment. A lot of us in the disabled community are or have been on government assistance.” Organizations like AbleGamers and SpecialEffect, she mentions, are examples of charities helping provide adaptive equipment to those in need, making gaming more affordable for all.

Still, the steep cost of making gaming and streaming more accessible is worth the social connection and personal fulfilment to those living with disabilities, some streamers say. “Illness is isolating,” says Netherlands-based streamer Lauren Radford, or RaddersGaming, who spends most of her days at home ever since a case of tonsillitis during college sent her down a path of various illnesses, including myalgic encephalomyelitis (i.e. chronic fatigue syndrome) and fibromyalgia. After becoming sick, she started immersing herself in open-world games like The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and eventually discovered a community of fellow gamers on Twitch. “I had lost everything. I was grieving my life, my education, my future. Then I fell into the gaming community, and I found a rope to cling onto,” says Radford, now a Twitch partner and full-time creator. “I’m not sure I would have been able to find such strong hope in any other industry. This was the most accessible thing I could have done, because I was doing it from my bedroom in my pajamas. I honestly don’t think I would have a career if I hadn’t found gaming.”

For Emma, a Netherlands-based Twitch streamer who goes by Emmagination, streaming allows her to create a safe space for fostering community and educating others. “Video games can be a facilitator into bigger conversations,” she says. Diagnosed with fibromyalgia and having recently accepted herself as a trans woman, Emma often speaks openly with her viewers about her personal struggles on stream, from her gender identity to mental health and disability support. In one particular instance, a regular chatter opened up to the community about accepting themselves as a trans woman, something they had not even expressed to their friends and family at the time. “That was a huge landmark moment for me in terms of what I wanted to do with streaming,” Emma says. “Growing up, gaming was always my chance to be the hero of the story, to be the person who can create change. Now, it’s become a very real power in which I can make a difference by helping other people and positively impacting their lives. It’s become a self-fulfilled prophecy.”

But life as a full-time streamer, especially for someone living with disabilities, can be mentally and physically draining, and for many, it’s not an entirely viable option. Ask most streamers how to grow viewership and you’ll hear the same advice: stream for long hours at a time, maintain a consistent schedule, and constantly put out content. “There is a lot of inherent ableism in the ways we tell people to become successful [in streaming],” says Florida-based writer and streamer Teona Studemire, or Tee_Spoonie. “I can’t stream for eight hours a day, I’m too sick. My illnesses are too inconsistent and unpredictable for me to be able to deliver in that way — and I shouldn’t have to.”

Putting your disability in front of a live audience that might not understand how to discuss or respond to disabilities can present challenges, as well. “There’s a barrier to the way that society perceives disability, in that they think it’s all or nothing. They think that someone who is in a wheelchair has to always be in a wheelchair a hundred percent of the time,” says Lorelei. “People will log into someone’s stream who is low-vision, see them read something with their eyes, and start saying others are ‘faking’ their disability or using it to get attention.”

On the flip side, some people will look at streamers with disabilities as “inspiration porn,” a term coined in 2012 by disability rights activist Stella Young, celebrating them solely on the basis of their disability in an objectifying manner. And that can be exhausting in other ways. “People will come into my stream and say it is inspiring that I play video games,” Lorelei says. “Is it? Tell me I am inspiring because I am talented at something, because I volunteer on boards and committees, because of the advocacy work I do — but don’t tell me I am inspiring for being in a wheelchair, for simply existing.”

As discourse around accessibility in gaming continues to grow, the vision of a more accessible gaming industry becomes clearer and clearer. “I want more legislation on accessibility,” says digital content producer Erin Hawley, or GeekyGimp, referring to protections like the Twenty-First Century Communications and Video Accessibility Act which requires accessible communication services in video games. “I want to see a director of accessibility on every staff that’s big enough to have one,” says Jay, a streamer, editor, and cosplayer who streams under the name ThatJayJustice. “If you are making triple-A games, where is your accessibility director? Who are they? What is their name?”

Intersectionality must be a guiding principle of every gaming company and corporation, as well, Lorelei says. “From square one, having a focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion — not only in hiring practices, but also in the ways that we design games and represent characters in games — will be a big first step that things will naturally build from.” What’s most needed though is a cultural shift in the larger gaming community that requires every gamer, disabled or not, to rally for change. “If an inclusive game with equal representation that is accessible to the vast majority of people is what most people want, that is the game we are going to get,” Emma says. “But we need to ask for it, and not just those who are affected by it.”

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“Having that raw, crisp aim, and you just tap and someone dies, is so satisfying,” Michaela Lintrup says, her fingers punctuating each word. Sitting on a black, red, and white #G2Army Secret Lab chair and crowned with a Logitech G Pro X Wireless headset, the Danish gamer has the magnetic energy that’s just the caffeine jolt I need for our Zoom call. It’s 2:30 a.m. my time in Los Angeles, but for the 24-year-old esports pro, it’s a half hour before noon when she passionately explains to me why first-person shooters (FPS) are her games of choice. “The competition in an FPS game is just unmatchable for me. I just love it.”

Lintrup has eight years of esports experience under her belt, playing in her first international event at the age of 16, competing at events like the Copenhagen Games and Dreamhack, and building her rep in Counter-Strike Global Offensive (CSGO), a highly competitive mechanics-driven FPS game that never had a woman reach the main stage of a major tournament. Avid CSGO fans will likely know her as “mimi” of Team Secret, but since October, she has repped G2’s samurai emblem. That’s when the Spanish organization signed Lintrup and the majority of her former TS teammates to create its first all-women’s team and compete as G2 Gozen in Riot Games’ Valorant, a team-based tactical shooter that combines CSGO mechanics with Overwatch character abilities.

Though women make up half of all US gamers, only 35% of people who play a game that’s considered an esport are women, according to a 2019 study by data firm Interpret, and the number of women professional esports players is even lower. But while men overwhelmingly make up the majority of organizations’ esports rosters, women are leading the rise in esports viewership. In 2020 alone, the number of women esports viewers in the US jumped from 23% to 36%, according to Interpret, a move largely driven by the increased visibility of women competing at the professional level and industry efforts to make the esports scene more inclusive.

In February, Riot announced Game Changers, an initiative to give women and nonbinary esports players a stronger platform and a direct pipeline into its Valorant tournament, the Champions Tour, and launched a three-tournament all-women’s series for multiple regions across the world. The program was widely praised throughout the gaming community, and Riot would go on to expand the format to its popular multiplayer online battle arena (MOBA) game League of Legends in September.

I spoke with Lintrup late November in the middle of her team’s second bid to claim the Game Changers crown for Series 3 of the Europe, Middle East, and Africa region (EMEA). In its first outing, G2 Gozen came in third after losing to TENSTAR Nova in the lower bracket, a sore point for Lintrup. “We should have gotten first,” Lintrup says. “God I hate losing so much.” Four days after our chat, Lintrup and her dominating Cypher plays would help G2 win the Grand Finals against Guild X.

Lintrup is among the few top players putting women on the esports map. But the question looming over the competitive landscape is how tournaments can become more reflective of the esports fanbase and offer more diverse representation among its players.

For Lintrup, the answer is complicated.

Refinery29: While women in gaming isn’t rare, what is rare is to see women who are at the top of the competitive scene. There must have been challenges in your own journey.

Lintrup: “One of the biggest challenges is, of course, the internet itself and all the people who just refuse to believe any woman can ever make anything of themselves and esports. It can be super hard because there are the people who will be like, ‘There is no difference if you’re a man or woman. You should be able to do the same things.’ But they’ll still think it’s embarrassing when a man loses to a woman. That’s probably like some of the biggest challenges you can face, the resistance from the boys just refusing to agree with a woman having any success. But there are way more supporters and people who just want to have the best for you. Because who doesn’t want to have a woman to play with and a woman to understand your passion? I’ve also faced a lot of people who say I don’t deserve what I get because they think they’re better than me in games, so they should get the opportunities that I get. But I also deserve it. Why not me?”

Let’s be real, anybody who’s hating on women in esports is probably in bronze or iron. Show up in a 1v1 and you would own them.

“Yeah, exactly. (laughs) I mean, the players on our team have been owning people in a 1v1. I would be sent out for a shootout in a 1v1 at a Danish tournament, and there would be people who are like, ‘Yeah, I can beat her,’ and then they don’t want to go because if they lose, like, wow, that would be embarrassing.”

It’s amazing to see orgs like G2 investing in women’s teams, but when you look at the tournaments with the highest viewership, which are often also the most marketed, they’re dominated by men. What will it take to get women players the same level of exposure?

“Women have been competing for many years, but just from five years ago, there has never been this many women in gaming. We had like 60 women teams sign up for Game Changers, and we’ve never ever seen that in CS, so having Valorant come into esports has been very, very healthy for the women’s scene. I’m sure that all we need is just time. With time, there will be more women playing with a bigger pool. There will be more talent to show and pick from, and in five years time, there’s for sure gonna be a woman on top playing on either a women’s team or a woman playing on a mixed team. Just now, I can queue a ranked game [in Valorant] and get another woman on my team. We just need time and patience and it will happen for sure.”

When Riot announced it would expand Game Changers to the EMEA region in September, the studio planned to introduce mixed-gender teams for Series 2. But Riot stepped back that decision after the community said the move went against the program’s spirit and mission to elevate underrepresented players. Do you agree?

“The idea [of mixed teams] is amazing, and of course that’s the way everyone wants it to go: men and women being able to play with each other on a team and compete. But it was just too early to have the second Game Changers be mixed. The European (EU) scene is already still lagging behind compared to North America (NA), especially the women’s scene.”

Well intentioned, but just not the right time.

“Exactly. There were also a lot of pros [who were men] who asked us, ‘Can you just move out two players so we can play with you?’ Like, that’s not what Game Changers is about. [Those players] just wanted to get some easy money.”

You’re saying that time is what’s needed to get to the place where we have mixed teams and tournaments. So is that the ultimate goal — an even playing field for everyone?

“That’s a hard question. It’s really hard to imagine [mixed teams and tournaments] because we’re so far away from it. Having women’s tournaments is, for now, really good because it encourages gamers to compete, be better, and take the next step. Mixed teams would be amazing, for sure, but women’s tournaments should still be a thing because there will always be the bully factor when you’re a woman in gaming. I don’t think that will ever change just because there are more women. When you’re a rookie coming into the game, it’s important to have a safe space where you can find other women gamers who are just like you.”

On one hand, you want it to be like, ‘We’re equally good at games, and we can compete on the same level,’ but on the other hand, there’s something really powerful and special about having 16 teams of all women competing for the same goal: to be the best.

“I think it’s very individual. I personally would love to play at the top level, and if that means it’s a women’s team, then it’s a women’s team. But if it means that I’m playing with four men, that’s fine with me. It really just depends on what your goals are, what you want to do, how competitive you are, and how willing you are to commit to something so serious.”

For you, what does success look like? What is that moment when you tell yourself, ‘I’ve done everything that I wanted to do in my career’?

“I really want to qualify for a major tournament. And I don’t even need to win it. I mean, obviously winning would be epic, but what I want is what has not been achieved. You have not seen a woman play in any major tournament. You have not had a woman really competing at the absolute highest level especially in FPS games. I really want that, and I would love for it to be with my current team, but I also know that if I ever got the opportunity [to compete in a major], there is just no way I could refuse that. For me, success is 100% achieving something that has not been achieved by a woman gamer. When I’m the one who has done something as The First, I feel like that’s being successful.”

I have to ask once and for all: EU or NA?

“Duh, EU!”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

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In early August, LGBTQ+ Twitch streamers began sharing clips of a growing and frightening phenomenon: hate raids, in which mass bot accounts would spam offensive speech and threats to active streamers in their chats. Raids were designed to be a positive way for streamers to direct their viewers to another person’s channel and help them grow a following. But after Twitch implemented dozens of identity tags to better connect sub-communities, from Black to Transgender to Anxiety, some users abused the system. And it was queer streamers, creators of color, and disabled people — the most marginalized groups on the platform — who were primarily targeted.

“We’re not the cisgender, heterosexual people that are considered ‘normal.’ We’re often ‘othered’ and there are people who feel like we are not worth the air we breathe,” says Raven (they/she), aka RekItRaven, a partnered Twitch streamer who became one of several targets of hate raids during the summer. “Twitch is a reflection of society … and our society tells us that we are wrong for being us.”

Despite promising inclusivity and safety for all of its creators, Twitch continues to fail LGBTQ+ streamers like myself because its policies continue to fall short, effectively allowing harassment and hate speech. Its automoderation tools flag words like “lesbian” as “sexual content,” which forces many queer streamers to turn off automod altogether, thereby inviting actual terms in chat that are harmful or derogatory unless creators actively blacklist those terms. The creators I spoke with say Twitch hasn’t communicated enough about its efforts to stop hate raids and protect them. To combat these issues, LGBTQ+ streamers are advocating for Twitch to improve, but they are also taking matters into their own hands, creating incredible content on and off the platform and asking their communities to support them without necessarily giving Twitch more money.

Although top streamers on Twitch — most of whom are cisgender, heterosexual, white men — can negotiate better terms with the platform, the majority of creators on Twitch see half their earnings go to the site’s parent company, Amazon. Twitch takes 50 percent of paid subscriptions and a portion of the up-front cost on bits, which are premium virtual goods that can be purchased in chat and used to show support for streamers.

The pay split has been a point of contention for years, but more pressing is the continuous harassment, particularly against streamers who use LGBTQ+ identity tags on their streams. Although these are meant for Twitch users to more easily connect with, for example, other non-binary or asexual or plus size creators, Raven told The Washington Post in August that bad actors have used them to find and target them for hate raids, and others have shared similar observations on social media.

Despite the seeming connection between tag usage and targeted harassment, a Twitch spokesperson says there’s no direct correlation: “We haven’t found clear evidence in our ongoing investigations that tags have been a vector for targeted attacks. That said, it’s true increased discoverability could inadvertently help bad actors find streams for malicious purposes, and it is our continuous priority to reduce that risk as much as possible by improving and developing new safety products, policies, and technologies.” 

To deal with hate raids, streamers have taken matters into their own hands, creating “panic button” responses using whatever tools were at their disposal to keep their communities safe. These include user-created mass banning tools, like CommanderRoot, to prevent hateful spam. Streamers and their moderators also have created lists of bots for others to pre-ban before they could invade more streamers’ spaces. The efforts helped, but the bots kept coming. But despite the apparent hyper-specific targeting of these hate raids, many streamers refused to give up the platform they fought so hard to build, and continued to proudly use their identity tags. 

“My streams are genuinely chaotic in the best way, and my community consists of diverse and inclusive voices. We discuss real world topics surrounding politics, racial inequality, LGBTQ+ issues within society and within the community, mental health and various other difficult topics,” Raven says. “I’m a Black, femme-presenting queerdo. My very existence breeds hate. I have been trolled, hate-raided, harassed for years, but it got really bad over the summer. It consisted of hundreds, if not thousands, of hateful messages, calling for my lynching, telling me that my chat belonged to the KKK, threatening my children, doxxing me, swatting threats, and more. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but at the end of the day, I’m gonna keep going.”

At the height of the hate raids, Raven created two calls-to-action through Twitter, with the hashtags #TwitchDoBetter and #SubOffTwitch, as well as the #ADayOffTwitch boycott to draw attention to how many users were being hate-raided out of their own channels. Hundreds of users have included these hashtags in their posts over the last four months, and coverage in The Washington Post, NME, PinkNews and more have drawn international media attention to Raven’s work. #TwitchDoBetter demands stronger safety tools and creator control from Twitch, and it has already made an impact: in September, Twitch added phone and email verification controls, so streamers can set parameters for who’s allowed to chat in their channels. This is especially helpful for reducing hate raids against queer content creators, as it minimizes the ability to mass-create new accounts for spamming. Then in November, Twitch introduced Suspicious User Detection, which is a tool meant to identify potential ban evaders, or users who create new accounts after they’re banned from a streamer’s chat. 

These ongoing efforts reflect comments from Raven, who tweeted about meeting directly with Twitch representatives in August: “I am confident in this. @Twitch is listening and working actively on providing proactive tools to help combat these hate raids and are doing so with as much speed as possible. Change will happen. Thank y’all for keeping the fight. The fight is not done but we are getting closer!” 

“We’ve taken numerous steps to combat targeted bot attacks specifically, including filing legal Complaints against individuals involved, meeting directly impacted Creators, launching new educational initiatives dedicated to fighting chat-based harassment, and making numerous updates to our sitewide technology for detecting offensive language and malicious botting,” Twitch tells Refinery29. “Botting is an internet-wide problem without an easy fix, but we’re encouraged by the results from these steps and are continuing our work to better anticipate bad actors’ methods and prevent their attempts to cause harm.”

Although Twitch is taking active steps toward better protection, many LGBTQIA+ streamers hope to see stronger tools and better communication from the platform. Bee (they/them), aka QueerlyBee, is a content creator and online educator who cultivates a cozy, soothing space through conversation and relaxed games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley, while addressing community values like identity and equity. They were able to protect themself and their community from hate raids through tools learned from their network, but they point out that not all streamers have that ability.

“The unfortunate thing is the weight was put on us to protect our communities,” Bee says. “I worry about the smaller streamers who aren’t as interconnected on other social platforms like TikTok and Twitter, which is where all of us learned how to take care of each other.”

Until Twitch meets creator demands, streamers are seemingly focusing more on the #SubOffTwitch movement, which Raven also started in August. #SubOffTwitch encourages the community members and fans to replace or expand upon their Twitch subscriptions by supporting streamers on different platforms like Patreon and Fanhouse, which offer creators more generous cuts. According to Ace (they/she), aka A_TypicalQueer, a disabled streamer who advocated for and ultimately created the highly sought-after Black tag for Twitch, “#SubOffTwitch has been instrumental [in helping streamers earn money]. It has been a great way for people to see other types of content, whether it’s on Fanhouse, Ko-Fi — people are looking at creators’ commissions now. So it shines a lot of light on what the streamer does outside of OBS, outside of Streamlabs or StreamElements, what have you.”

Unfortunately, #SubOffTwitch may not work for everyone, which Raven acknowledges: “The thought behind it was to make a financial impact to protest the lack of protections in place. I think it works for some and not for others, and no one should feel bad for accepting subscriptions on Twitch. We all have to be kind and understanding of one another especially since for some people, Twitch is the only money they make.”

Some creators don’t have the ability to create content on multiple platforms. For example, Bee describes Twitch as a part-time job. They tell Refinery29 that when they’ve talked about losing Twitch income, they’ve often been told to diversify their content and not to put all their eggs in one basket. However, as Bee explains, it’s not that simple. Creating content on another platform includes promoting that platform and asking supporters to visit their content there, which takes them away from Twitch. Bee says this is an inconvenience if their supporters are already in Twitch chat, and it may also confuse people who just want to watch streams, rather than engage with other content.

“I do hope one day Twitch will see and respond to our concerns, because I want to be able to engage with my community on their platform. … But right now, I have to ask them to do that elsewhere, because I need to be paid a livable wage for the amount of work that I put in,” Bee says.

Following a traumatic brain injury (TBI) and a breakup, Ace started over with content creation in January, working completely solo. Ace doesn’t stream full-time and has a separate income outside of Twitch, but has still been hit hard by people unsubscribing on the platform. “I’m happy all these movements are gaining momentum that are necessary and creating effective change,” they explain. “However, it messed with my pockets. … When I’m actively creating content, I wish people did support me on Twitch.” Ace admits they haven’t streamed much since the hate raids began, but their passion has been reignited through her work with online racial justice organization Color of Change to create content for the #TwitchDoBetter movement. The org aims to continue highlighting the harassment faced by Black creators on the platform now that the hashtag is no longer trending.

Hate raids are still happening, though they are fewer and farther between. Twitter users shed light on these instances through #TwitchDoBetter, though the hashtag is also being used for other purposes. Users are demanding more consistent payments, a pay split that’s in favor of streamers, more acknowledgment from Twitch of marginalized creators outside of specific events or history months, more emotes for affiliate streamers, and still stronger moderation tools. Streamers including Raven and Bee are also asking for more communication from Twitch about how it plans to support and protect LGBTQ+ streamers.

“I know there are some things that can’t be said in terms of tools and things being worked on, because we don’t want the people seeking us harm to have access to that information because they’d just plan to circumnavigate it. But we need more human responses. Not scripted PR rhetoric,” Raven says.

Bee believes the weight is still on streamers, and that Twitch could do more. “I won’t say the stuff Twitch has done hasn’t done anything. I think it’s definitely helped, but it’s very little, very late in the game.” They add, “People want to feel heard and seen, and Twitch doesn’t communicate in a way that allows that to be possible, and that hurts them and us. I’m definitely not satisfied with what they’ve done, but I just also think it would be great if they would communicate better. I think that would make a big difference.”

Twitch tells Refinery29 that it’s working on initiatives, like transparency reporting and creator camp streams, to better communicate and be transparent about the work it’s doing to protect the community. “We support our streamers’ rights to express themselves and bring attention to important issues across our service. While we often need to limit the details we share about safety in order to avoid tipping off bad actors, we understand the community’s feedback and agree that Creators should feel informed and confident in our efforts to improve safety on Twitch.”

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Many people still think that being a gamer and a Black woman is a juxtaposition. It’s not. We’re not unicorns. Just like in any other industry, there are content creators, industry professionals, and consumers, and Black women can be found in all of these categories — but they’re often overlooked, underestimated, or outright ignored. So Black women are taking their spot in gaming for themselves.

If you’re not familiar with gaming, let me briefly explain how we got here. Gaming started with simplistic classics like Pong, and in their infancy, games were aimed at a broad audience who just wanted to play and have fun. But after the video game crash in the 1980s, the industry essentially said, “Fuck it, let’s just focus on white men and boys.” And after decades of game creation and marketing geared toward men, here we are in 2021, with the majority of the highest paid gamers being white men. Not to mention that the workforce in the industry is also dominated by white men. According to jobs site Zippia, 72% of video game developers in the US are men, and 72% of developers are also white. And unfortunately, with this came the foundation of a toxic misogynistic culture, which companies overlooked and sometimes encouraged with their early marketing — just look at one ‘90s Playstation advertisement.

As the social climate changed to become more critical and vocal about racism, sexism, homophobia, and discrimination, some companies have vowed to change, but only after hitting rock bottom. In July, a lawsuit filed against Activision Blizzard  by the California’s Department of Fair Employment and Housing alleged the company long facilitated an environment of harassment, discrimination, and a toxic “‘frat boy’ workplace culture.” The suit led to an outpour of horror stories on social media that exposed what often happens behind game creation. Some triple-A companies have started to hire experienced chief diversity officers, who slowly but surely hope to tackle the ingrained bias internally and in their games. 

But many gaming companies are still struggling to hire, and retain, Black employees which means, beyond the marketing, the culture isn’t progressing. Just 6% of video game developers in the US are Black, according to Zippia, so it doesn’t take long to look under the surface and see the dust is still under the rug. Brands are still enabling toxic content creators or work environments where marginalized people can feel as though they are collateral damage as we’ve seen with recent revelations about Activision. There’s still so much to do, and it seems the industry only reacts to current events, such as the murder of George Floyd, rather than plan for a better future. Despite changing demographics and efforts from within to create more inclusive spaces, Black women still aren’t visible and have long been ostracized, ignored, and underpaid. 

The space is democratizing. But rather than the companies that make millions, it’s creators-turned-entrepreneurs who are doing the necessary work to address the lack of transparency and seemingly unclosable gaps in gaming.

In 2015, I started Black Girl Gamers (BGG), a Facebook group-turned-community-powered organization whose mission is to provide Black women with visibility and equity in gaming, and what I’ve seen over the years is nothing short of Inequity 101. I had no idea what it took to create a community-powered company, but all I knew is I wanted to create a platform for change, and I learned those skills from being an influencer. So when an issue reared its face, I sought to tackle it via social media or the press, vocally challenging the status quo much to the dismay of anime-avatar racists on Twitter. Our focus began on heightening the visibility of Black women content creators and challenging the lack of Black women characters in games. Since then, the industry has seen a huge increase in playable Black women characters and Black women streamers who cite BGG as being the reason they started to stream. 

It was becoming notoriously obvious that increasingly visible Black women creators and streamers were struggling to navigate the new conversations they were having with brands. Influencers in any industry have a hard time pricing up their work; there’s uncertainty, a lack of transparency, and also egos all added to the mix. If you multiply that with an industry like gaming, where things can be last minute and super janky, you end up with creators who underestimate their worth. So we created the solution. In addition to conferences, workshops, mentorships and consulting, Black Girl Gamers now runs its own talent agency for Black women gamers, a first in the industry. We have since brokered women for TV shows, podcasts, and partnerships with brands like H&M, Anastasia Beverly Hills, Captain Morgan, and Netflix.

Another area that was vanilla through and through was gaming PR. Whenever a new game or product comes out, there are few popular Black creators who are repeatedly cherry-picked, if at all, to test gear and receive new products and gifts. That’s why the work of people like Stephanie Ijoma, founder of Nnesaga, is so necessary. Ijoma has teamed up with Timi Ofarn of The Nerd Council to create ION agency, an influencer marketing agency that works with brands to introduce them to a diverse and inclusive group of influencers. Other creatorprenuers have inserted themselves into the industry such as Brandi JaVia, founder of Brown Girl Gamer Code, who is now community manager of Glow Up Games, the studio behind the upcoming mobile game for HBO’s Insecure. Influencer Xmiramira has created her own network, Noir Network, to share her knowledge to fellow content creators on how to progress in the industry.

Through our endeavors, we’re closing the gaps — but the industry still moves at a tortoise’s pace. On any given day on Twitch, you’ll still see mostly white men promoted on its front page. Or, as revealed in a recent Twitch leak, you learn that white men streamers make up most of the highest earners on the platform. This long-standing cycle of lack of discoverability further contributes to a lack of possibility for more Black creators to reach this peak. 

So while we wait for the industry to catch up, Black creatorprenuers are shouldering the responsibility and creating a new wave of businesses that will give them a fighting chance to be seen and heard.

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