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Today’s PrideNomad™ Quiz:

In Today’s Email:

Update: Love Wins. Here’s How.

Destinations: The Disappointing Truth about Brunei

Nomad Hacks: More For Shoe Fetishists…

Feedback: New Mexico Makes a Stand

UPDATE:

🌍 Something’s coming (and I wanted you to hear about it first)

Recent events in the world have shaken many of us.

For me, it hit close to home.

Bondi Beach is a place I know well — a place of joy, celebration, and chosen family.

When spaces like that feel fragile, it reminds us of something deeper.

When we travel, we want to feel safe — not just as LGBTQ+ people, but as human beings.

And safety isn’t only physical.

It’s emotional.

It’s about whether you feel seen, welcomed, and valued.

PrideNomad started as a conversation about freedom.

But freedom isn’t just about where you live or work.

It’s about whether the world makes space for you.

And right now, too many people aren’t being given that.

It’s time to do something about it.

So I’m launching something global — and I wanted you to be the first to know.

It’s called World Love Week.

February 8–15, 2026.

It’s a global, non-commercial activation built on one simple idea:

No one gets erased. Everyone counts.

No conferences.

No selling.

No grandstanding.

Just millions of small, visible acts of love — shared around the world, in real time.

For PrideNomad readers, that’s not new.

You know how to lead with love, empathy and compassion.

World Love Week is simply making it global — and making it loud.

Next week, I’ll share how you can be part of it.

For now, I just wanted you to hear it from me first.

Because love only works when someone goes first.

With love,

Ken 🌈

DESTINATIONS:

Brunei: Beautiful, Welcoming… and Not for Us

Brunei wasn’t on our radar (didn’t even make the PrideNomad Index).

Honestly, my mother had never even heard of it before our Taiwan-to-Singapore cruise docked there for the day. No clue where it was. No idea about the famously wealthy Sultan of Brunei.

But we figured—why not?

Let’s go see what we can see.

Quick note: I’m not a big fan of cruises as a way to really understand a place. A few hours on shore usually means tourist stuff, not real life. As a PrideNomad, I prefer staying somewhere for weeks—long enough to feel the rhythm and notice how people actually live.

Still, even in one day, Brunei surprised me.

The first thing that hit me? The roads. Wide. Immaculate. Almost American-highway wide. Not what I expected in Southeast Asia.

Then the mosques. Massive. Opulent. The Jame’ Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque was genuinely stunning—bold, confident, and anything but subtle.

We also visited Kampong Ayer, the stilted water village. It’s been around for over 1,000 years and is often called the largest of its kind in the world. Homes, schools, mosques—even fire stations—built above the river. Fascinating. Lived-in. Very real.

And the Empire Hotel. Massive scale and totally gorbeous.

But the people… this is the part that stayed with me.

Everyone we met was kind. Warm. Welcoming. Smiles everywhere. Help offered without being asked. Not fake friendliness—just decent humans being decent.

And I want to say this clearly: the average Bruneian we met didn’t feel oppressive. They felt like people trying to live their lives, take care of their families, and get through the day in peace.

Just like everywhere else.

That said—here’s where things change.

Brunei is ruled by a Sultan, and wealth is tightly controlled at the top. It’s very clearly a place of haves and have-nots. And Brunei enforces Sharia law, including laws that criminalize LGBTQ+ lives.

Those laws don’t come from everyday people. They come from power. From systems. From the top down.

And that matters. Because in my experience, most people aren’t trying to erase others. Oppression usually comes from policy—not from the humans living under it.

So what’s your PrideNomad takeaway?

Brunei is safe to visit briefly. It’s culturally fascinating. And the people are lovely.

But it’s not a place to live openly as LGBTQ+. It’s not a long-term option. Hell—it’s not even a short-term one.

And it’s definitely not aligned with queer freedom or visibility.

At the human level, Brunei felt warm and welcoming.

At the structural level, it doesn’t work for us.

Both things can be true at the same time. And that’s what we need to always keep in mind.

Even the pretty flower can be poisonous.

NOMAD HACKS:

Use these to make your travel life a bit easier.

The Nightstand Key Trick

If your room key is needed for power:

Leave any old loyalty card in the slot (or ask for a spare key sleeve).

Now your AC stays on while you’re out.

The Tissue-in-the-Shoe Deodorizer

Stuff shoes with dry tissue + a tiny dash of soap (or dryer sheet).

Overnight: less stink, better shape, happier suitcase.

FEEDBACK:

A Quick Note on Maps, Labels, and Why This Stuff Is Messy

Last week, we published a piece looking at which U.S. states feel safest — and most dangerous — for queer and trans folks right now.

And this week, we heard from New Mexico.

Which… good.

That’s exactly how this should work.

Here’s the honest truth:

On paper, New Mexico is doing a lot right.

Strong protections for gender-affirming care.

Solid reproductive rights.

Anti-discrimination laws.

Marriage equality.

Inclusive identity documentation.

Those wins matter. They didn’t magically appear.

They exist because people fought like hell for them.

So why didn’t New Mexico land in our top “green” category?

Because that piece wasn’t just about laws.

It was about something messier.

Lived experience.

What it actually feels like to be queer or trans in a place — not just downtown, not just if you’re resourced, not just if you already know how to navigate the system.

But:

• what it feels like outside the cities

• what happens when access exists in theory but not in practice

• what people report when they try to use the protections that are supposed to be there

That’s where things get complicated.

And uncomfortable.

Some states are legally strong but experientially uneven.

Some are hostile on paper but have pockets of real safety.

Most live somewhere in the gray.

New Mexico is one of those states doing a lot right — while still having gaps depending on where you are, who you are, and what resources you have.

Could we have been clearer about that in the original piece?

Yeah. We could have.

Because putting New Mexico in the same visual neighborhood as Texas and Florida without explanation flattens a reality that deserves nuance.

And nuance matters — especially when we’re talking about people’s safety.

So here’s our commitment going forward:

We’re going to be more explicit about how we think.

More transparent about what we’re measuring.

And more open to input from the people doing the work on the ground.

Not because we’re trying to please everyone.

But because our community deserves honest, usable information — not oversimplified maps that pretend this stuff is easy.

It isn’t.

And if a conversation like this makes the work sharper and more accurate?

That’s a win.

Always.

If you live in New Mexico and want to share what your day-to-day experience actually feels like — good, bad, or complicated — hit reply.

Maps don’t tell the whole story.

People do.

P.S. If today’s issue hit you in a good way, hit reply and just say ‘yes’ — I love knowing you’re out there

Answer to Today’s Quiz

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