It was December 2024. I was rushing and click-clacking my heels in Downtown Miami with Mauricio Schneider, Bibas family uncle, while on the phone with another hostage family member who couldn’t figure out how to get to our next meeting. Florida was a vital arena for hostage advocacy at the end of Biden’s term, the sweet spot when the incoming Trump team and the Biden administration had no choice but to cooperate. As the light changed and Mauricio and I crossed the street, phone to my ear, I turned my head to the car with Virginia license plates waiting for us to cross and saw my Alcoholic Ex in the driver’s seat, jaw-dropped and frozen as the humid air flawlessly swept my hair up as if I had paid it to. Neither of us could believe it, and neither of us said, or did, anything. At least I looked good.

It had been two years since the last time we’d seen each other. He had walked me to my car and kissed me goodnight after I spent a whole day pretending I didn’t have one foot out of the relationship. I couldn’t understand why the universe had put us both on the same Miami street on a random Thursday, but it did dawn on me that it was the best way to run into an ex in the history of running into exes. Though that hostage family delegation trip to Florida and my cinematic run-in with Alcoholic Ex happened less than two years ago, my life and career trajectory have taken turns I never expected.

I’m part of IPF Atid and EcoPeace’s inaugural EcoPeace Ambassador Fellowship. A question from one of our summits turned my brain in all the ways I like it........

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