Some people just feel safe—they see you because they’ve spent intentional time Seeing Themselves. When I walked into the W Toronto a few weeks ago for a writing workshop with Poesy, my social anxiety itself was sweating. When I realized I was the first one there (a bit early, travelling in from Barrie), I nearly panicked as I headed for the couches in the far corner of the beautifully decorated room. 

And then someone came over, gently, to introduce themselves; the photographer for the event. 

They offered an honest, vulnerable smile that had clearly been brave before, and would help me be brave this evening. My body’s somatic response to anxiety ran its course, but I was no longer afraid. This is what a safe person does—they hold your humanness, your loneliness, and your hiding places with sensitivity and care, without abandoning discomfort or themselves. Please, meet Cal Campos (they/them). 

A Media Producer and Inclusivity Public Speaker, Cal is also a brilliant photographer—an artist in seeing people through the lens of both their empathetic camera and their kind, curious heart. After meeting Cal, even though cameras usually amplify my anxiety, I didn’t hide the rest of the evening. 

In an article interview, Embracing Risk with Bold Journey, Cal says that for them, “Being Alive is centered in some values: calculated risk, empathy, and kindness.”

From Tkaronto (Toronto), Ontario, Cal has been sharing their story as a Filipinx, Queer, Transgender, Non-binary person for over a decade, prioritizing uplifting the stories of marginalized communities (e.g. 2SLGBTQIA+, PGM/BIPOC). Cal is steadfast in their values, and believes that feeling less alone—closer to our truest selves—comes from crafting space to be with the heartbreak innate to human lives. To have been heartbroken is to have loved and been loved. Love allows grief and joy to coexist. It risks heartbreak. And I see these threads in the photos Cal chose to share because time isn’t linear, it’s cyclical: sunbathed chairs both empty and full; a shoreline both scraped and blanketed by waves; a lighthouse both a beacon and lonely; two blue windows unbearably far apart yet of the same home; a thin gray sky offered a vibrant green bed to rest; and the road ahead, blurred but painted with multi-directional guides.