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<p>Two trillion, six-hundred and fifteen billion dollars.</p><p>It's an amount so large it's almost impossible to comprehend. It represents the estimated tab for 371 weather and climate disasters in the US since 1980 that topped $1 billion in damage. On the list are many of the country's most destructive tropical cyclones, droughts, and severe storms, the most recent being <a href="https://www.insider.com/tropical-storm-idalia-hurricane-forecast-florida-2023-8">Hurricane Idalia</a>. </p><p>They're the events we can remember — and many more we likely can't because so many more disasters have been breaking into the billion-dollar club in recent years. Decade to decade, costly extreme weather events are increasing in both frequency and intensity as greenhouse gases build up in our atmosphere.</p><p>Yet as big as the dollar figures can get, they can never convey all that is truly lost in these disasters. Countless costs to people get left out of official tallies, including mental and physical trauma. There are harms in the form of environmental damage and supply-chain disruptions. These become, in essence, hidden costs. And many of us are paying them.</p><p>Meet a teacher who nearly died from heatstroke after a hike, a farmer in Texas who watched a hurricane and subsequent deep freeze wipe out much of his citrus crop, and a woman whose nonprofit lost everything to a flood.</p><h2>The true cost of extreme heat</h2><p>Lois Nigrin grew up on a farm and loved getting outdoors. So when she and her husband set off on a hike in Arizona as part of an anniversary trip, she didn't anticipate how wrong things could go. Heat was nothing new for Nigrin — and the couple had trained for the hike.</p><div type="image" title="A portrait photo of Lois Nigrin standing in front of foliage." height="2000" width="3000" msid="103845753" hostid="261" sizebytes="278284"></div><p>Yet the temperatures were so extreme that day in June 2019 that what was meant to be a celebration of decades of partnership ended up leaving Nigrin in a coma with third-degree burns on her backside. Her family rushed to the hospital to be with her in what doctors said would likely be her final hours.</p><p>Nigrin, a teacher in Nebraska, survived the nightmare but still has the scars from her burns and skin grafts, which remind her how close she came to dying. Her ordeal points to the rising cost of extreme heat, the <a href="https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-heat-related-deaths" target="_blank" rel="noopener">leading weather-related killer</a> in the US.</p><p>The type of heat that nearly killed Nigrin could add $1 billion every summer to US healthcare costs for things such as emergency-department visits, the Center for American Progress estimates. The problems are also likely to extend beyond the hospital into everyday life. The Atlantic Council predicts that a rising number of sweltering days could zap some $100 billion a year from the nation's labor productivity.</p><p>For Nigrin, the full cost of extreme heat is something she's still grappling with.</p><p><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/arizona-heat-so-hot-almost-killed-teacher-heatstroke-burns-2023-9"><em>Read more about her story here</em>.</a></p><h2>The true cost of volatile weather</h2><p>Dale Murden has the unflappable demeanor of a farmer who's been forced to deal with the ups and downs of a tough business. He's relied on that trait over his more than 40 years growing citrus and raising cattle in Harlingen, Texas.</p><p>But in recent years, he's witnessed swings that leave him wondering whether times are changing and whether his farm, near the Mexico border, will remain in a subtropical climate.</p><p>Murden watched in back-to-back seasons as a hurricane and then a deep freeze ruined huge portions of his grapefruit harvest and trees. Recovery has taken years.</p><div type="image" title="Owner of farm in orange orchard." height="3840" width="5760" msid="103845754" hostid="261" sizebytes="2181162"></div><p>As the weather gets more extreme, farmers are having a harder time knowing what to plan for. And supports such as crop insurance don't always cover all the costs that erratic weather delivers, particularly for fruit and vegetable growers. In Murden's case, some of his trees suffered damage when extreme cold dipped into the southern edge of Texas.</p><p>An increase in the intensity of cold snaps is one of the more-peculiar developments of a warmer world: The heat can dislodge the bands of cold air that normally hug the Arctic — sending cold air plunging south. That's what Murden experienced in February 2021 when he lost much of his grapefruit harvest.</p><p>Texas leads among states in both cumulative damages due to extreme weather and frequency of these events, a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration analysis going back to 1980 found.</p><p>The Texas citrus industry has experienced the fallout from volatile weather. Over the past two decades, citrus growers in Southeast Texas have produced nearly 274,000 tons of grapefruit and oranges on average each season. That was nearly cut in half during the 2020-21 season, according to data compiled by the Texas Valley Citrus Committee. The following year was even worse, yielding just under 74,000 tons.</p><p>Economists at Texas A&amp;M University tallied overall losses at nearly $228 million and more than 1,000 jobs because the citrus harvest relies on seasonal workers who pick fruit.</p><p>In states such as Texas, where costly weather is becoming the norm, it's getting harder for some farmers to get by. That's something Murden knows well.</p><p><em><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/texas-farming-extreme-cold-heat-weather-swings-2023-9">Read more about his experience here.</a> </em></p><h2 id="gi-flood">The true cost of flooding</h2><p>Barb Grant has built her life's work around helping others. </p><p>For someone like Grant, being unable to help people in a crisis is an awful feeling. So when flood waters ripped through the offices of the nonprofit she runs in eastern Iowa, she felt helpless. She had to tell those she would normally assist that there wasn't much her community-aid organization could do for them. It, too, was dealing with ruinous flooding. </p><div type="image" title="Barb Grant standing on her newly renovated building." height="3023" width="4541" msid="103845756" hostid="261" sizebytes="701628"></div><p>The organization eventually recovered and was rebuilt on higher ground, yet whenever flooding is predicted, Grant feels on edge. </p><p>She's not alone. Many people have experienced flooding — not just those along the coasts or near rivers. Torrential rains and snowmelt mean flooding is an almost daily event in the US. It's so common that flooding is the most frequent — and costliest — type of natural disaster in the country, according to the nonprofit Pew Charitable Trusts.</p><p>Grant, like an increasing number of Americans, knows what often comes after a flood: a long recovery.</p><p><em><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/flood-risks-american-businesses-nonprofit-iowa-still-recovering-2023-9">Read more about her story here.</a></em></p><h2><strong>The true cost of inaction </strong></h2><p>There is more to this story than a set of ruinous tragedies. Data suggests costs of extreme weather are trickling through the economy and could soon overwhelm our social safety net if left unchecked, economists told Insider. <br /><br />Doing nothing is a way to guarantee the tab continues to increase. <br /><br />It could also mean missing out on a huge opportunity. By taking action to curb emissions and move toward a more resilient economy, it's possible we could create a world where the climate crisis is just another pressure we need to deal with, rather than a string of unmanageable calamitous events.</p><p><em><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/how-the-climate-crisis-can-change-make-economy-better-resilient-2023-9">Read about what could be ahead here.</a></em></p><h2>Credits</h2><span class="headline-bold">Reporters: </span><span class="headline-regular">Annie Fu, Morgan McFall-Johnsen, Catherine Boudreau, Jacob Zinkula, Marianne Guenot</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Design, development, and graphics: </span><span class="headline-regular">Annie Fu</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Editors: </span><span class="headline-regular">Tim Paradis, Matt Turner, Josée Rose</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Copy editors: </span><span class="headline-regular">Nick Siwek, Jonann Brady</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Design editor: </span><span class="headline-regular">Kazi Awal</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Photo editor: </span><span class="headline-regular">Isabel Fernandez-Pujol</span><br /><span class="headline-bold">Photographers: </span><span class="headline-regular">Rachel Jessen, Miriam Alarcón Avila, Arin Yoon, Jason Garza, Courtesy of Barb Grant, Courtesy of Operation Threshold</span><br />

The true cost of extreme weather

<p>As the US emerged from the Great Recession, cheap real estate and the rise of e-commerce collided to create a warehousing boom.</p><p>As Amazon and others began building million-square-foot distribution centers, construction skyrocketed. Since 2011, over 2.3 billion square feet of new warehouse space has come to market — enough room to comfortably stuff 3 ½ Manhattans inside.</p><p>Past industrial booms created coal country, steel cities, and oil towns. Now warehouse boomtowns shoot up in places like California's Inland Empire, Pennsylvania's Lehigh County, and Columbus, Ohio, and the number of warehouse workers has nearly tripled in a decade.</p><p>Here, Insider explores how the rise of warehouses and warehouse work has changed the US and its citizens as we became a Warehouse Nation.</p><h2>A guide to Warehouse Nation</h2><p>Warehouses and employers like Amazon bring new jobs and higher wages for some blue-collar workers, but also can be hard on cities — and on the human body.</p><h2><br />A surge in warehouse work</h2><p>Using data and on-the-ground reporting, Insider looked at the opportunities and hidden costs of the rise of warehouse work.</p><h2><br />Read more from 'Warehouse Nation'</h2><p>A look from Insider at how the warehouse boom has reshaped America.</p><h4>Credits:</h4><h6><u><strong>Series Editors</strong></u><strong>:</strong> Jake Swearingen, Lily Katzman, Alex Davies, Drake Baer</h6><h6><u><strong>Editors</strong></u><strong>:</strong> Hana Alberts, Eric Bates, Amanda Cantrell, Gloria Dawson, Alyse Kalish, Monica Melton, Hayley Peterson, Josée Rose, Stephanie Russell-Kraft, Bartie Scott, Graham Starr, Cadie Thompson, Zach Tracer, Albert Yoon</h6><h6><u><strong>Reporters</strong></u><strong>:</strong> Alex Bitter, Emma Cosgrove, Robert Davis, Tom Dotan, Dan Geiger, Aki Ito, Juliana Kaplan, Katherine Long, Nancy Luna, Andrew Moseman, Kelsey Neubauer, Alex Nicoll, Jenny Powers, Sindhu Sundar, Danielle Walker</h6><h6><strong><u>Copy Editors</u>: Kevin Kaplan, Jonann Brady, Nick Siwek, Jonas Dominguez<br /><br /><u>Research</u>: Hannah Beckler, Andy Kiersz, Walter Hickey, Elisa Xu<br /><br /><u>Design, Development, and Art</u>: Skye Gould, Jenny Chang-Rodriguez, Kazi Awal, Shayanne Gal, Taylor Tyson, Annie Fu, Tien Le, Rebecca Zisser<br /><br /><u>Video Producers</u>: Robert Leslie, Katie Nixdorf, Noah Lewis, Katherine Long<br /><br /><u>Videographers</u>: </strong>Jovelle Tamayo, Giorgio Litt<br /><br /><u>Photo Editors</u>: Hollis Johnson, Crystal Cox, Erika Ramirez<br /><br /><u>Photographers</u>: Tariq Tarey, Vincent Gonzalez, Giorgio Litt, Jovelle Tamayo<br /><br /><u>Social Producers</u>: Tanita Gaither, Virginia Alves, Tyler Murphy, Rachael Lupton <br /><br /></h6>

Warehouse Nation

<p class="drop-cap">Community plays an essential role in the lives of <keyword id="11911085" type="UNKNOWN" weightage="60" keywordseo="lgbtq" source="Orion">LGBTQ</keyword> folks. Amid a wave of <a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/how-employers-help-workers-affected-by-anti-lgbtq-news-bills-2022-6">anti-LGBTQ legislation</a>, <a href="https://www.insider.com/2021-deadliest-year-on-record-for-trans-people-2021-11">violence</a>, and <a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/patriot-front-extremists-arrested-riot-charges-outside-idaho-pride-event-2022-6">intimidation tactics</a>, spaces that provide a haven for queer people are much-needed emblems of solidarity and validation. </p><p>The range of safe spaces for queer folks has changed over the years. In-person (or IRL, in real life) places of camaraderie and assistance — bars, social clubs, care facilities, etc. — are <a href="https://www.insider.com/lesbian-bars-us-lesbian-bar-project-2021-6">few and far between</a>. But notable spaces have emerged around the world: <a href="https://www.insider.com/a-safe-house-in-poland-offers-lgbtq-ukrainians-sanctuary-from-bombs-2022-3">a Poland safe house</a> for queer Ukrainian refugees, <a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/enkels-barbershop-brooklyn-queer-customers-2021-6">a queer-friendly Black barbershop</a> in Brooklyn, and neighborhoods in the Midwest that <a href="https://www.insider.com/tour-lgbtq-friendly-neighborhoods-new-york-detroit-chicago-2021-6">honor LGBTQ people</a>, to name a few.</p><p>Meanwhile, online spaces have allowed those within the <keyword id="11994258" type="UNKNOWN" weightage="60" keywordseo="lgbtq-community" source="Orion">LGBTQ community</keyword> to transcend geography, reach one another globally, and build fellowship on digital platforms such as <a href="https://www.insider.com/trans-and-started-hrt-testosterone-reddit-more-helpful-than-doctor-2021-11">Reddit</a>, <a href="https://www.insider.com/tiktok-lesbians-queer-women-coming-out-algorithm-why-2022-3">TikTok</a>, and <a href="https://www.insider.com/queer-gay-youtubers-inspire-lgbtq-youth-to-express-themselves-2021-7">YouTube</a>. </p><p>The harrowing efforts to <a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/drag-queens-children-lgbtq-right-wing-libsoftiktok-idaho-patriot-front2022-6">disparage the LGBTQ community</a> clearly indicate that there's still progress to be made, and it'd be remiss to not acknowledge that. But stories of queer people uplifting one another in shared spaces offer glimmers of hope.</p><p>Insider is highlighting some of these stories in our series "We/Us/Ours," a collection of articles about queer unity. Ahead, read our standout coverage of LGBTQ folks who are providing support and empowerment for their community. </p><p><em>This is an ongoing series. Keep checking back in for more articles.</em></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">WE/US/OURS: FEATURED STORIES</h2><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/boy-love-tv-shows-asia-queer-stories-2022-6">In Asia's Boy Love TV shows, characters live in a world that is unapologetically queer</a></h3><div type="image" title="Two boys hugging with rainbow confetti around them lead 2x1" height="600" width="1200" msid="92260599" hostid="261"></div><p>Boy Love, abbreviated as BL, is a TV genre popular in many Asian countries, especially Thailand. BL shows focus on romantic relationships between boys who seem to exist in a world free of obstacles. Insider spoke to fans of BL shows to see how the genre has been a source of joy and community.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/lgbtq-sports-league-queer-community-pride-2022-6">How New York's largest LGBTQ sports organization builds queer community through volleyball</a></h3><div type="image" title="Gotham Volleyball team in front of rainbow background and volleyball net 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260601" hostid="261"></div><p>Gotham Volleyball is the largest LGBTQ sports organization in New York City. Furthermore, "it's a home," Gotham player Brandon Gillis told Insider. Read how Gotham Volley teammates have found queer community through the athletic program.  </p><h2 style="text-align: center;">WE/US/OURS: ONLINE COMMUNITIES</h2><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/rupauls-drag-race-helped-lgbtq-teens-to-come-out-2021-1"><strong>By championing self-expression, 'RuPaul's Drag Race' has encouraged a generation of young LGBTQ fans to come out</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Photos of Gottmik, Kerri Colby, RuPaul, Jasmine Kennedie and Willow Pill lead 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260607" hostid="261"></div><p>Insider explored how the Emmy-winning show "RuPaul's Drag Race" built a passionate fandom and inspired young LGBTQ fans to come out.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/tiktok-lesbians-queer-women-coming-out-algorithm-why-2022-3">TikTok's algorithm is making women who've only dated men realize they're queer</a></h3><div type="image" title="Tiktok video on phone surrounded by images of queer women in front of rainbow background lead 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260603" hostid="261"></div><p>Four women who previously only dated men told Insider that TikTok made them realize they were actually queer. The platform's algorithm drew them into an enlightening realm of videos in which other women were kissing, dancing sexily, or discussing compulsory heterosexuality.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/trans-and-started-hrt-testosterone-reddit-more-helpful-than-doctor-2021-11"><strong>I'm a trans person who recently started testosterone, and Reddit was more helpful than my doctor</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Photo of Canela López with rainbow frame 2x1" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92263123" hostid="261"></div><p>Former Insider reporter Canela López shares how trans Reddit forums became a haven of support when so many of their medical concerns went unanswered.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/queer-gay-youtubers-inspire-lgbtq-youth-to-express-themselves-2021-7">How queer YouTubers inspired a generation of LGBTQ youth to express themselves</a></h3><div type="image" title="Photos of Tyler Oakley, Ingrid Nilsen, Bretman Rock, Hannah Hart, and Kingsley lead 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260605" hostid="261"></div><p>Five young LGBTQ YouTube fans told Insider how discovering queer video creators gave them the courage to come out and be themselves.</p><h2 style="text-align: center;">WE/US/OURS: IRL COMMUNITIES</h2><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/florida-sudents-fight-back-after-dont-say-gay-yearbook-censorship-2022-5"><strong>A Florida high school paused distribution of its yearbooks over photos of students protesting the state's 'Don't Say Gay' bill. Then, students fought back.</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Students protesting the Don't Say Gay bill in front of rainbow background lead 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260610" hostid="261"></div><p>A Florida school paused its yearbook distribution until photos of a "Don't Say Gay" protest could be covered up with stickers. Students rallied against the school's decision and garnered widespread community support.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/a-safe-house-in-poland-offers-lgbtq-ukrainians-sanctuary-from-bombs-2022-3"><strong>A safe house in Poland offers LGBTQ Ukrainians sanctuary from Russian bombs</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="A Ukrainian couple lying next to one another on a couch with rainbow frame 4x3" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92260611" hostid="261"></div><p>Most of the 3.9 million people who have fled Ukraine amid the war with Russia have poured into Poland. Although the country is considered unwelcoming to LGBTQ people, a safe house has offered a place of solace for queer refugees.</p><h3><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/photos-takes-the-cake-is-a-showcase-for-drag-kings-and-things-2021-9"><strong>Photos: Drag queens have dominated the scene for years. This alternative competition showcases what drag can look like when everyone is included.</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Drag performer with rainbow frame 2x1" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92260612" hostid="261"></div><p>Takes the Cake is a competition that expands the limits of what drag artists can be. The event, hosted by The Cake Boys collective, welcomes drag artists who identify anywhere on the gender spectrum. See what it's like to attend one of the shows. </p><h3><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/enkels-barbershop-brooklyn-queer-customers-2021-6"><strong>The founder of a new queer-friendly Black barbershop in Brooklyn wants to take the anxiety out of getting a haircut — and he's booking up fast</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Kadeem Woodson in his barber shop with rainbow frame 2x1" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92260613" hostid="261"></div><p>Barbershops have long been regarded as a sanctuary for Black men, but the LGBTQ community hasn't always been welcomed. To help remedy this, Kadeem Woodson opened a queer-friendly Black barbershop in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/kink-at-pride-discourse-explained-kinks-role-in-lgbtq-history-2021-6"><strong>The debate over 'kink at Pride' divides the internet, but the kink community has been part of queer protest and celebration since Stonewall</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Kink at pride with rainbow frame 2x1" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92260614" hostid="261"></div><p>Conversations over whether or not kink — leather, BDSM gear, harnesses, puppy hoods, and more — should be allowed at <keyword id="12424268" type="UNKNOWN" weightage="60" keywordseo="pride" source="Orion">Pride</keyword> celebrations erupts online annually. The kink community's historical presence in the fight for queer rights adds significant nuance to the discourse.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/vintage-photos-lgbtq-community-history"><strong>24 inspiring vintage photos of LGBTQ people celebrating their communities</strong></a></h3><div type="image" title="Vintage photos of LGBTQ people on rainbow background lead 2x1" height="1167" width="2334" msid="92260615" hostid="261"></div><p>Celebrate queer joy and the history of the LGBTQ-rights movement with these photos of drag queens in the 1960s and Pride marches in the '70s.</p><h3><a href="https://www.insider.com/tour-lgbtq-friendly-neighborhoods-new-york-detroit-chicago-2021-6">I toured LGBTQ-friendly neighborhoods in 3 cities during Pride Month and found they all honor LGBTQ people in unique ways</a></h3><div type="image" title="LGBTQ couple walking in Boystown with rainbow frame lead 2x1" height="1168" width="2334" msid="92260616" hostid="261"></div><p>Insider reporter Frank Olito toured the West Village in New York, Boystown in Chicago, and Ferndale near Detroit to see how each city celebrates Pride Month. The neighborhoods had one thing in common: their commitment to honoring the past to ensure safe places for LGBTQ people in the future.</p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><strong>CREDITS</strong></h3><p><strong>Series Editor: </strong>Brea Cubit</p><p><strong>Story Editors</strong>: Trisha Gopal, Sarah Kwak, Julian Kossoff, Allie Pape, Keyaira Kelly, Rachel E. Greenspan, Sirena Bergman, Lauren Steussy, Edith Honan, Chris Kaye, Bartie Scott, Lydia Warren </p><p><strong>Story Reporters</strong>: Anjana Pawa, Talia Lakritz, Joshua Zitser, Julia Naftulin, Canela López, Moises Mendez II, Erin Snodgrass, Emine Ziyatdinova, Elyssa Goodman, Brandon Harden, Palmer Haasch, Frank Olito</p><p><strong>Designers: </strong><keyword id="11898446" type="UNKNOWN" weightage="60" keywordseo="rachel-mendelson" source="Orion">Rachel Mendelson</keyword>, Kazi Awal, Rebecca Zisser</p><p><strong>Social Producers: </strong>Kristie-Valerie Hoang, Claire Banderas</p>

We/Us/Ours: Exploring LGBTQ communities and spaces that inspire queer unity

<p class="enhanced-subtitle"> The lifestyle entrepreneur knows that you've seen less of her. She's been living her life.</p><h5 style="text-align: center;">Story by Muna Mire<br />Photography by Lia Clay Miller</h5><p class="drop-cap">Ayesha Curry has finally found the key to a good night's sleep. </p><p>First, she plunges into a pool of icy water. Immediately after that, she hustles into a sauna, which is heated to triple digits. She'll go back and forth a few times, numbing her body and reawakening it in turn, until she can feel her nervous system winding down. "It's freaking cold," she says. "But it works." </p><p>Curry, 34, has her own private cold-plunge-and-sauna combo tucked away behind the Northern California home she shares with her husband and three children. The setup was part of a pandemic-era wellness tear Curry was on, determined to find a way to feel good — or at least better — during <a href="https://www.insider.com/people-share-what-theyve-learned-about-themselves-in-quarantine-2020-4">quarantine</a>. </p><p>The schvitz has done wonders: The extremes in temperature invigorate her in the mornings and ease her insomnia, which she's struggled with for much of her life, in the evenings. Saunas are, of course, very old wellness tech: They work by pushing your body to operate at maximum capacity in order to sustain homeostasis in a calibrated environment. Your heart gets a workout as a result. </p><p>Like her husband, the Golden State Warriors point guard <a href="https://www.insider.com/steph-curry-warriors-net-worth-money-wife-ayesha">Stephen Curry</a>, Ayesha Curry is no stranger to navigating extremes. She's used to pushing herself in a thousand different directions, each one demanding her full attention. Now, though, she's letting things level out, take their course, recenter, and recalibrate. "I feel like you see a lot less of me, and you hear a lot less of me, but it's because I'm actually living my life," she says. "And it feels really good." </p><p>These days she and Stephen recover from workouts together: cold plunge, sauna, red-light therapy. They've found a rhythm that works for them. </p><p class="drop-cap">In early May, Curry takes a red-eye overnight from San Francisco and comes straight to meet me in New York. She walks into the backstage room of the Brooklyn studio where we're shooting her editorial and immediately makes a beeline for the garment rack to peruse the designer offerings.</p><p>She fingers an eye-catching, daffodil-colored tulle dress before pantomiming a request for coffee and flopping down in an armchair opposite me. An espresso appears in front of her. When she finishes it, another takes its place as though conjured. </p><div type="image" title="Ayesha Curry" height="6633" width="4422" msid="100479637" hostid="261"></div><p>Curry is smaller in person than I anticipated. She wears an oversize, floor-length Charles Jeffrey Loverboy denim coat over a sweatsuit. I can tell the coat acts as a kind of stylish armor, the way a hoodie or massive sunglasses might. Curry takes a moment to get acclimated to the scene, poking at a gift basket on the table to forage for snacks. None pass muster. </p><p>Her team flits around us, prepping for the shoot and attending to various logistics. Ponytails swing back and forth like metronomes. The sweet, heavy smell of dozens of roses and calla lilies fills the studio as the set decorator prepares a tableau of artfully strewn stems. Florals for spring: groundbreaking.  </p><p>When we meet, the Warriors are fresh off of a loss; the Lakers had eked out a five-point victory the previous night. I start to ask Curry if losing bruises her husband's ego or affects the mood in the household. "It's a long series," she says before I can finish my sentence. Meaning one loss for Stephen and the Warriors means nothing in the grand scheme of the NBA playoffs.</p><p>Curry shakes her head as though warding something off. "The wins roll off his back, but the losses roll off, too. He never lingers too long in the stink of a loss," she says. "He kind of just keeps it moving." It's clear from her delivery that there's no room for debate: When it comes to her husband, she's a true believer. </p><p>It's also apparent that Curry understands reframing is a useful therapeutic tool in navigating the pressure cooker of athletic stardom. She's exploring these kinds of methods for herself, too. After the pandemic, her depression and social anxiety spiked. She's now seeing a therapist, which she tells me she was afraid to do for a long time. "I had some bad experiences, and they scared me away. But now I've found one that I love, and I actually look forward to it," she says.  </p><p>Curry credits therapy with helping her make much-needed changes in her life. One of these involved a pivot away from her role as a media personality. She's no longer interested in being the main character (or worse, a supporting character to her husband). Curry explains that being taken out of context for clicks is a painful lesson; she's had to learn to be guarded. </p><p>She had a particularly bad experience on "Red Table Talk" — the Facebook Live interview series helmed by Jada Pinkett Smith — in 2019. At the time the show was taped, Curry was newly postpartum, a nursing mother. On the program, she discussed sometimes feeling insecure in her marriage, sometimes wanting attention — real and vulnerable human emotions. But the show "was edited in a way that made me sound crazy," she says. "It's not what I said, and the context was weird. Yeah. I took that one personally."</p><p>"Media is a very ruthless space," says Curry's sister-in-law, Sydel Curry-Lee. "Celebrities are real people. All press is good press, but that's not true when it comes to our emotions and our mental health." In their family, "we're all about protecting our peace." </p><p>So Curry has taken a step away from the spotlight and toward charity work and entrepreneurship, entering the wellness and lifestyle space with her company, <a href="https://sweetjuly.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sweet July</a>. In a sense, as the wife of a very famous athlete and therefore the head of a very famous family, she's always been selling her lifestyle. But Sweet July has allowed Curry to leverage her fame to get the better end of that bargain. </p><p>Sweet July does many things: publishes a quarterly magazine; runs a production studio; puts out its own line of lifestyle products like candles, tableware, and jewelry; and maintains an Oakland storefront where all these things are on offer, plus items from small businesses around the Bay Area that Curry feels an affinity for. The company's publishing house is set to release its first book, the entrepreneur <a href="https://zandoprojects.com/imprints/sweet-july-books/">Fawn Weaver's "Love &amp; Whiskey,"</a> next year. "I feel like self and home are pretty all-encompassing," Curry says. She's right — she could technically sell anything. I joke that she could give Gwyneth Paltrow a run for her money. </p><p>Curry sees Sweet July as a sort of incubator for Black- and women-owned small businesses. She's tried to build a company with a soul. "It's cliché at this point, but representation does matter," she says. "If I have the opportunity to uplift another person's business that looks like me or comes from the same background as me, I'm all for it." </p><p>Sweet July's uptown Oakland <a href="https://sweetjuly.com/editorial/welcome-to-sweet-july/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">storefront</a>, which also houses a café, belongs to its own kind of community. The entrepreneur Sherri McMullen's shop, <a href="https://shopmcmullen.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">McMullen Boutique</a>, is just down the street. "It's really nice to have a neighbor," McMullen says. "We want to make sure we're all taken care of. It's great to get coffee from Sweet July or food from another Black-woman-owned business that's a block away." </p><div type="image" title="Ayesha Curry" height="2156" width="3234" msid="100480241" hostid="261"></div><p>She and Curry both focus on up-and-coming brands, and they often talk about makers they like or admire. Curry "has been so intentional and thoughtful about every part of her business," McMullen says, describing her focus and drive. "She's committed to making space for herself, and that's admirable for women and mothers." </p><p>Curry-Lee has also watched her sister-in-law's company grow. "At the end of the day, when you're in the position that Ayesha is in, people will always attribute your success to your husband. It's even harder to make a name for yourself," she says. "But really it's her determination, her creativity. She can be talking to someone and come up with a really creative idea that no one else has thought of. She has this mind that not a lot of people have." </p><p class="drop-cap">Ayesha Curry (née Alexander) was born in Markham, Ontario — about 20 miles north of Toronto — in March 1989. She's the middle child of five kids and was raised in a Christian household by immigrant parents: Her mother, Carol, is Chinese-Jamaican, and her father, John, is African-American and Polish. </p><p>When she was 14, her family relocated to North Carolina, where she attended high school and <a href="https://www.insider.com/everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-currys-love-2019-7">met her future husband</a>. She and Stephen belonged to the same church and the same Wednesday-night youth group. The two reconnected and started dating in 2008. They've<a href="https://www.insider.com/steph-curry-marriage-wife-ayesha-2018-6"> been together for 15 years</a> which, from the outside, seems impossible. "We really feel like <a href="https://www.insider.com/celebrities-who-married-their-high-school-sweetheart-2018-4">we've grown together</a> and grown up together," she says. "He's truly my best friend." </p><p>Curry grew up in a musical household: Her father was the manager of the hip-hop duo Kris Kross, among others. Curry herself played the bass guitar and was high-school friends with the experimental musician Kelsey Lu. </p><p>Apart from school and church, Curry didn't do much of anything as a teenager: no sports, no extracurriculars. She describes herself as an obedient kid ("too good"), which meant she followed her parents' rules for what time and how often she had to be home. She had a few close friends, but not many, purely because she wasn't allowed to be in the spaces where adolescent friendships bloom. "If I couldn't ride the bus home, it wasn't happening," she says. </p><p>When Curry got older, her mother apologized. "She was like, 'I was scared. I thought something was going to happen to you,'" Curry says. By then, the pieces had started to click into place for Curry: Her mother was a first-generation immigrant who'd moved from Jamaica when she was a kid. She was doing her best to keep her five children safe and accounted for in a new place. "It took me a while to realize that some of her apprehensions were straight out of fear," she says. "Not out of not wanting me to do anything." </p><p>Curry spent the pandemic keeping her own children close. For them, time spent away from the public eye during the pandemic was a mixed blessing. When the world shut down, the Currys retreated into a private bubble. "We kind of had a revolving door all the time," Curry says of their life before March 2020. With the newfound privacy, the family was able to take time and space to "figure out what we want for our lives" and "how to better ourselves." </p><p>For their children — Riley, 10; Ryan, 7; and Canon, 4 — Curry says the uninterrupted time with both parents at home was a godsend. They flourished. "The girls are super artsy," Curry says. "Right now my 7-year-old, Ryan, she likes the ukulele." </p><p>The public may be most familiar with the eldest Curry child, Riley. As a young mother, Curry brought Riley with her on the road to Stephen's games. Riley's <a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/stephen-curry-riley-curry-superstar-2016-5">impromptu antics</a> captured the camera's eye and the nation's heart. Curry regrets the overexposure.</p><p>"When the social media thing started, nobody knew what that was going to become," she says. "If we had known back in the day just how chaotic it would make life, I don't think we would've done it. But we were just genuinely living our lives back then. And we thought, 'This is our kid. We're bringing our kid along.'" Curry is wiser now and determined to give her kids a childhood — they are no longer in the public eye. </p><p>None of the children have social-media accounts or cellphones as a safeguard against what they might see about their famous parents online. Curry isn't naive; she knows that won't be the case forever. But for as much wisdom as Curry has gained in her years as a mother, certain things remain out of her control. "I'm trying to be as normal as possible, but every day we wake up and there's a new school shooting, a new attack," she says. "Every time I pull up to their school for drop-off, I'm looking at the entrance, I'm looking at the exit, I'm looking around." </p><div type="image" title="Ayesha Curry" height="4975" width="3317" msid="100479758" hostid="261"></div>The recent rash of school shootings — Pittsburgh, Michigan State, Nashville — has her on edge. But trying to shield her kids from the media means she won't be able to reach them should the unthinkable happen. So she's found a middle ground. "I think we've settled on doing an Apple watch," she says. "'Cause apparently with the Apple watch, you can still make calls."<p>Like any parent, Curry is trying to give her kids what she didn't have growing up — freedom and independence — while still safeguarding them. The other day, one of her daughters came home with a field-trip permission slip. It "feels so empowering to let her go and experience something," Curry says. She checked the "yes" box. </p><p>She and Stephen talk about it often: how to walk the line with their own family. "Where's the middle ground, where we're strict, but we're also allowing our kids to experience life?" she says. "We're trying to figure out what that balance is. Just kind of learn as you go, right?" </p><p>The difference is that with Curry, the world is watching as she learns. But she's getting used to ignoring the onlookers. "The people in my life know who I am and my values and what I believe in," she says, "and I think that's all that matters." </p><p>When she isn't using her sauna, Curry says her favorite way to unwind is to load her paddleboard into the back of her black pickup truck and drive to the edge of the Pacific. She paddles out as far as she can until she reaches a calm spot in the water. Then she just floats, perched atop the board, taking it all in.</p><h4><strong>Credits</strong></h4><p><strong>Writer: </strong>Muna Mire<strong><br />Photography: </strong>Lia Clay Miller<br /><strong>Creative Direction: </strong>Liane Radel<br /><strong>Styling:</strong> Jason Bolden<br /><strong>Hair: </strong>Sonia Cosey<br /><strong>Makeup:</strong> Ashley Bias<br /><strong>Prop Styling:</strong> Stockton Hall<br /><strong>Prop Assistance: </strong>Laure Fischbach<br /><strong>Digital Tech:</strong> Michael O'Shea<br /><strong>Production:</strong> Kaream Appleton, Sofija Kulikauskas, Very Rare Productions<br /><strong>Design and Development:</strong> Rebecca Zisser, Kazi Awal<br /><strong>Editing:</strong> Claire Landsbaum, Joi-Marie McKenzie, Jonann Brady, Marisa Frey, Brea Cubit<br /><strong>Video:</strong> Ben Nigh<br /><strong>Social:</strong> Tanita Gaither, Tyler Murphy, Nicole Forero, Virginia Alves, Victoria Gracie<br /><strong>Special Thanks:</strong> Adrianna Varedi and Victoria Fedorova at 99 Scott Studio</p>

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