Sherry Pofahl Johnson has tried on a lot of selves: Born in a rust belt town to a factory mom plagued with depression and a military dad haunted by pointless rage. She held the house together with dish soap and duct tape—writing journals, poems, and lyrics for a band she’d never form.  

 

She escaped with a full scholarship to UW-Madison, where she acted, taught, and learned—composing countless essays and scripts for a writing-intensive double-major in Theatre & English Education. 

 

She produced ambitious high-school theatre productions: first, in rural Wisconsin; then, in suburban Minnesota. She taught poetry, plays, acting, and writing—trapping youth in the conventions of college-bound essay-writing. 

 

She reinvented herself as a mom, yoga teacher, and community organizer...until she had to hit somebody on a roller derby track—confining the words of her league, community, and clients to diagrams and tables. 

 

She uprooted herself to Seattle, where she tried and failed to fit into the boutique consulting world. She crashed midlife with an autism diagnosis—saving herself with journal and poetry writing. 

 

She returned home. She rediscovered herself in queer, neurodivergent movements. She’s still here, tending her household, serving her community, running her consulting business, and finding her voice—writing whatever the hell she wants. ​