Two Messy, Conflicting Truths to Hold Today

Supportive words and dog pictures for inauguration day ❤️

Hey folks. I know we've got a lot on our hearts and on our minds today. I wanted to send some comforting words out, as well as an action shot of our Chief Barketing Officer's extra show of support.

Oliver looking up at a hopeful horizon. If he can see it, so can we.

Also, a few affirmations, because you deserve it:

• You deserve some extra self-compassion today. Treat yourself like a best friend after a bad breakup. You deserve to pull out all the stops to make yourself feel loved today.

• No matter what they do, what they say, what they try to legislate, remember that no one can take away our identities, our stories, our love, and our radiance.

• You don't have to watch the inauguration. You deserve better than that.

• It's okay to feel angry or afraid or numb today, but know that you are not alone, and these feelings will not be here forever.

Now, I want to give you an important reminder of two critical, central truths about this administration:

1. It's going to be terrible.

2. We're going to be okay.

I know at first these may sound like completely opposite statements, but if we are going to be able to keep moving forward, we must be able to accept both as simultaneously true.

Truth #1: It’s going to be terrible

So first, we have to accept that it's going to be terrible. Why? Because otherwise we're going to waste so much time, energy, and sanity (all of which are limited resources) on surprise and outrage every time there's a new terrible headline. While it is certainly important to stay informed, is the world any better off if I go through the all the stages of grief over every shitty cabinet pick? Nope.

It's Trump. We know the cabinet picks are going to be terrible. We know the executive orders are going to be terrible. We know the tweets are going to be terrible. AND, we know the media outrage machine is going to make them even worse (if you need more reading on fearmongering, check out this article I wrote a few weeks ago). We must accept this as our reality if we are going to be able to do anything other than rage-cry for the next four years.

Living in a state of reaction to their constant BS doesn't just put us on defense. It takes us off the court. It turns us into spectators, booing and heckling and wondering why the referee hasn't stepped in yet.

By accepting that it's going to be terrible, I admit that I am playing and therefore put myself back in the game. I take in only the information I need, I play defense, I play offense, I listen to my coach, and I trust my teammates.

When we recognize that it's going to be terrible (while always leaving room for the reminder that good news will continue to happen) we reclaim the energy we need to step up, start listening to community leaders, start building community and learning who is on our team, and start making an actual difference.

Rather than force yourself to read/watch/listen to/absorb every single terrible detail of every terrible thing that happens, we should give ourselves permission to know less to do more.

Truth #2: It's going to be okay

Ben, how could you say something like that after just writing so much about how awful it's going to be? Because, my friend, both things are true. Unless you are under four (in which case, props for your reading skills!) You have already survived a Trump presidency, and unlike last time, we are far, far more prepared now. Individuals are far more passionate about inclusion and advocacy orgs are far more resourced and strategic in responding to his brand of nonsense.

It's important to note that "okay" is also relative, and isn't going to mean perfectly happy all the time. In the long term I know it's going to be okay, but in the short term I know people that I love and fellow human beings that I don't know are going to get hurt, which is why I work so hard as an advocate to be a protective shield or minimize harm wherever I possibly can.

Outside of this four year unit of time, the queer community is one that people have tried to erase countless times through history. But the fact that we are here, with more rights than we've ever had in any other era, is firm proof that we know how to survive. Because queer identities are (probably) not genetic, many of us come out feeling like we are the first iteration of queerness--wholly detached from the countless generations of queer folks who lived, loved, and fought for a better world before us. We stand on their shoulders, we live lives that they couldn't have begun to imagine thanks to the strength that they had.

We owe it to future generations of queer folks to learn and pass on their stories and to write stories of our own. As much as conservatives will cry, kick, and scream about it, progress is an unending march forwards. The world is trending up, and we can survive this. We can do so by holding onto one another, lifting each other up, and having tangible dreams of the future that we are moving towards.

A week from today, I'm hosting a free event to help folks do just that: come together, rage, grieve, and get real about what we dream of, what we want, and how we're going to get there. It's not too late to RSVP!

Closing words of Hope

A few years ago, I spoke at a rally at the Missouri state capitol to a crowd of nearly 800 advocates and allies from around the state. I closed out my speech by agreeing that yes, I am angry. Yes, I am afraid. I am tired. I am right here with you. But more than anything else, I am hopeful. I don't have hope like a person in a drought hopes for rain. I have hope like a person staring at a fire that burns so hot and so bright, I know that nothing can ever put it out.

I spend my life talking to people in every corner of this country about allyship, advocacy, and empathy. Day in and day out I get to meet people everywhere from North Liberty, Iowa, to Rutland, Vermont, to Fresno, California who want nothing more than to fight for a better world for the people they love. My sample size is huge, so I hope you believe me when I tell you how profoundly un-alone you are today, tomorrow, and every day afterwards in this fight. This fire is RAGING.

I am right here with you. There will always be more Good Queer News to share, and I'll be here to celebrate it with you.

If you need resources, support, answers to fears or questions, please reach out. I have built an extensive network of allies and advocates all over the country that I would be thrilled to tap on to connect you to assistance however I possibly can, and I encourage you all to use the comments to send and receive a little extra love today as well.

With love and strength,

Ben

Oliver literally snug as a bug in a rug, doing the only thing any of us should be expected to do today.

P.S. I hope I've suitably empowered you not to watch the inauguration, but in case mental health isn't a good enough reason, consider spite! Can you imagine Trump finding out his inauguration had record-low viewership? Between Erin Reed, Public Notice, and Decoding Fox News, I know I'll find out everything I need to know afterwards and can spend the actual ceremony ordering cookies from trans girl scouts and playing with my dog instead.