My Path of Resistance

The time to resist is now. Most of us know this. Many of us have been living out this truth as the increase in protests, calls to action, how-to posts for contacting legislators, and general conversations about resistance prove. But in the midst of this push to mobilize as many people as possible to join the movements of resistance, I think we are too often giving people external actions to complete without acknowledging the internal powers at play in some of our lives. For some of us, active political resistance is not feasible until we learn to resist certain thoughts, habits, worldviews, and other aspects of our internal lives.

My days attending and volunteering at the Creating Change Conference just as the Trump administration came into power drove home the fact that this is immensely true for me. Because of my personality, because of my mental illness, because of societal messages I’ve internalized, because of things I can’t even name – my attempts to resist the new political regime (and the negative ideology and policy holdovers from past administrations) will not be as effective as they could be unless I simultaneously resist the parts of me that hold me back from pursuing justice to the best of my ability.

The parts of me that say that I am too unimportant and unqualified to deserve to have space in any justice movement.

The parts of me that say my words–written or spoken–have no power.

The parts of me that idolize other people’s methods of activism but belittle my own methods.

The parts of me that are too afraid of failing to even try.

The parts of me that don’t practice self-care despite acknowledging its necessity in good activism.

The parts of me that don’t fully accept that joy and love are revolutionary.

The parts of me that want to deny a truth I heard at another conference I attended this month: when we name the things our inner critical voice is saying, those things lose their power.

Tonight, my act of resistance is taking some of the power away from these negative thoughts and habits, so that tomorrow I can try to contact a legislator or two, speak up about injustice in a space I frequent, and keep writing. If you’ve discovered as I have that self-resistance is necessary for you to fully participate in the resistance, I encourage you to consider what actions will help you resist those parts of yourself that feel unworthy, afraid, or otherwise incapable of active resistance. The resistance needs everyone – even you and me. Let’s not let our inner voices count us out!



To Be Black, Queer, and Female

CW: references to Orlando massacre, general references to racism, sexism, queerphobia, transphobia, and related evils

My people are dying.

Every month, every week, every day – whether mainstream news outlets report it or not – my people are dying. Black and Brown people dying. Queer and trans people dying. Women dying.

And I am afraid.

I am afraid that one day one of my safe spaces will be violated and turned into a place of horror and grief. I am afraid that one day I will read a tragic news article and one of my friends will be listed as a victim. I am afraid that the wrong person will learn that I am queer or that my friends are trans and attack us. I am afraid that the police will one day see me or my friends or my family as a threat and find ways to justify murdering us. I am afraid that the men throughout my neighborhood who I think of as less than friends but more than acquaintances will feel so entitled to my body that my rejection of their advances will result in my murder.

I am afraid that fear will become the only constant I know.

And in the midst of those feelings, I am livid. Because no one should have to live with that kind of fear. No one should have to live with the terror and sorrow that take root in your heart when you see time and again there is no safe place for your people. No church, no club, no concert, no party, no theater, no school, no place at all that you can go and exist with the certainty that you will leave alive and whole.

I am livid because it makes no sense to me that other people cannot accept us – people of color, queer and trans people, women – as people worthy of respect and life. How dare anybody use their disturbing ideology to deny us our most basic human right – the right to simply live! How dare anybody seek to make us afraid! How dare anybody desecrate our bodies and our sacred spaces!

I am livid and I am afraid and I am sad and sometimes I am even hopeless because this cycle of fear and anger and grief seems to be my plight as a Black bisexual woman living in America in 2016 and I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to keep my people safe. I don’t know how to keep myself safe.

All I know how to do is keep writing and speaking my truth. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t feel like much, but I have to believe that being fully accountable to my truth through writing and through oral sharing will in some way counter the hatred and ignorance that is killing people like me. Because there has to be something beyond this harrowing cycle.

I want to keep writing until we reach that something.