December 2024 Update
We don’t have to do any of this alone.
I’ve tried and failed to start this month’s newsletter a number of times. Because I want to give you the words that help collectively shift us from reacting to action, and also the words that soothe us through our grief, and allow us to find softness through the rage. But I don't have those words. Because I am tired. And angry. And some days overwhelmed. Some days afraid. What I find as my North Star through this time of turmoil is the reminder that I don't have to do any of this alone.
As Mariame Kaba reminds us, everything worthwhile is done with other people. I ground myself in the possibility that the same kind of bricks that broke through police violence at Stonewall could be used as structural support for housing trans youth. That we have all of the tools at our disposal if we're mindful of how and when we wield them. And what if, in these times that we want to take up weapons against the pain of the world, we ask ourselves how instead we’re building through the harm towards the future we want for us?
I often find myself writing through moments that are especially tough. And a few weeks ago I jotted down these words in my notes app, and I have been thinking back to them more and more since:
“All of my friends have their what if, clearly articulated and often shut away in their deepest parts of themselves.
What if, we didn't rely on my income. What if there was accessible health care not tied up in employment. What if our goals were not confined by capitalism.
Then. Then...so many people I know would create. Build art, build furniture, build joy. In every form, across communities. With time and room for a process that involves periods of great enthusiasm and great rest.
I want that timeline so much it breaks my heart.
And I think, maybe. Maybe my greatest art won't be photos or writing or quilts, but the chance to craft that reality.
Brick by brick we smash the systems of the status quo. Brick by brick we build the future.”
A lot of us might be despairing right now. And despair is a valid emotion. It can even drive us to action, but not if we stay there. We don't live in despair. We live in hope. Hope grounded in collective action, grounded in building community, grounded in the world we’re building together. So maybe you're also overwhelmed, exhausted, afraid. But you're not alone. Not alone in these feelings, or in the work to build a better future for all of us.
This last week at our heART of the work event in Tulsa, one of our community members who spoke, Levi, said “trans bodies are born as battlegrounds, but trans bodies are also born as art.” So what if we take up arms in the form of expression, of words, of building community, and hold one another accountable to staying soft in a world that demands we harden ourselves to one another or we break? What if during this time of tearing folks down, we focus on building up the future where we all have the safety, resources, and community to thrive, across Oklahoma, and everywhere we call home?
I'm heartened by the reminder that when it comes to what is ahead, we’ll face it together. Through our art, through our visioning, through our commitment to collective liberation, through our practice of hope, through active solidarity, through learning and challenging ourselves and staying soft through the tumultuous policy landscapes still to come.
I wish I had words that were the balm to all we’re feeling right now. But all I have to offer you is hope. Is a place in this fight alongside me. Is a commitment to doing the work together. Brick by brick. Until we're all free.
In solidarity,
Nicole McAfee (they/she) - Executive Director