The next four years are going to be incredibly divisive there’s no way around it. There’s a man in the White House who doesn’t represent a very large portion of this nation, but in the same breath he does represent the other half (less two million). I refuse to let this next chunk of time have any sort of hateful undertone in my life. I don’t celebrate this man. I don’t know how to even begin. Even at his softest and most compassionate for me Trump is still a mouthful of sharp things. A mouthful of intolerance, a mouthful of regression. So instead I celebrate the activists, the civil rights leaders. I celebrate the romantics still urging us to give peace a chance. I celebrate the young, brown, southern boy who refuses to let those with higher education shut him down when he speaks out because he too has an opinion that matters. I celebrate the transgirls, the transboys. The black mothers who have lost their sons to brutality and fear. The black women who are still fighting for their worth. I celebrate the immigrant whose face is full of kindness. The gay man who just wants to kiss his boyfriend without fear of persecution. The witch who still smells the stench of burning flesh– reminders that differences can be deadly if misunderstood. I celebrate you if you have done your best to be your best today and maybe you failed but remember there’s always tomorrow. There will be division, sadness, but do your best to be a center of love. Spread light wherever you go.
30-something Mississippi queer. Bleeding heart with a soft spot for honesty and oversharing. Conquering corporate America and my own insecurities– one day at a time.