“Could you please hold my worm?” Birdie asks, over a precarious armful of soft sculptures. Which one, you might wonder: the shiny stretchy one? The one studded with earplugs? The one adorned with the words, “YES / NO / MAYBE?” Would you take one end of the 9-foot worm dotted with handmade flowers, and join Birdie in the QUIET PARADE for a while? Will a ragtag ensemble slowly emerge to help Birdie hold all her worms? Will the worms be held in fits and spurts and stops and starts? Birdie’s worms are her cheeky collaborators that gesture towards gender, sexuality, and access as overlapping and interconnected realms of work and play. By asking folks to help her carry her many worms, Birdie reframes the act of seeking care as an act of creation, while leaning in to all the awkwardness asking for help entails. This performance blurs the false binary of caregiver and care receiver, as not everyone present along the parade route will be part of these interactions as they take place. Whether an outsider would conclude that you are helping by holding a worm, or that the worm you’re holding is helping you, Birdie and her worms wriggle with you in the formation of community through care.