Holding Space for Pain
Today, I don’t have it in me for the fight.
I wake up with nightmares— I'm trapped in a cold dark place that I know in my bones is a mix of Guantanamo Bay and Dachau because I'm non-binary. The walls, the smells, the oppressive weight of dehumanization—they haunt me even after I’ve opened my eyes.
Yet I dream
I dream of a USA where every queer/trans kid, especially in Christian environments, hears this clearly:
You are beautifully made.
You are not an abomination.
You are not broken.
You were made exactly as you are, with purpose, and beauty. You are precious beyond measure.
I dream of a USA where every immigrant living without papers knows:
You do not deserve to live in fear.
You deserve to be safe—not terrified that you’ll disappear in the middle of the day, leaving your kids to come home to an empty house.
Your humanity is not defined by borders, your labor, your papers, or by political narratives.
I dream of a USA where every DEIB executive has a place where they can contribute bravely and holistically, where their work isn’t just a checkbox or a trend, but a living, breathing practice that transforms systems from the inside out. You deserve to thrive, not just survive, in the work of justice.
I dream of a USA where we don't outlaw American history. We know and tell the truth, not the forced, sanitized version. The joy, the brilliance, the acts of bravery that shaped this land, woven right alongside the stolen land, genocide, oppression, slavery, and the horrific torture.
If we don’t remember, we repeat it.
I dream of a USA where differences are truly celebrated, honored—not feared or tolerated, or violently silenced or attempted to make invisible.
And yet, today, I’m tired, friends.
The last two weeks I’ve had the energy to sit in silence, to breathe deeply, to ground myself. To rest.
I’ve shown up for family, community, friends, leaders, and teams devastated and yet not surprised at each day's new horror.
I’ve practiced mindfulness, prayed, listened with intention, and strategized ways to support others.
Yesterday—I broke.
Tears I’d previously held back came in waves, racking my body with sobs for all the brokenness, cruelty, and needless harm humans inflict on one another. For the violence that crosses borders and identities. For fresh violence that is too often normalized and ignored.
These are the actions of a society sick with indifference. A society led by narcissists who treat the US government—and its people—like their personal playground, smashing people like ants.
No one would inflict this level of harm on something they truly valued. No one with a soul would treat humans this way. Whole budgets slashed. Plans upended. Teams petrified of what tomorrow holds.
And yet, today, again, I will show up.
I’ll facilitate a staff retreat, helping foundation leaders find ways to support community members in a world that dares to declare that DEIB is dead.
I’ll submit an RFP for leadership development, infused with care, love, foresight, and holistic strategies.
I’ll hold space for mutuality in relationships because its critical even when the world feels devoid of it.
I'll coach a nonprofit CEO who's figuring out how to grow personally and lead brave equity-focused commitments.
I choose connection.
I choose truth-telling.
I choose love.
This past October, a truth found its way to me: Asking for help isn’t weakness.
My first reaction? That’s bullshit. It's weak to ask for help.
It was SO right. So I’m practicing and learning how to name my pain too, not stuff it down to fester. To sit with the complexity of my dissonance. To hold my own pain not as an isolated wound, but as a reflection of the struggles so many others carry.
It’s easy to hate. But are we willing to love?
Do we believe liberation is possible—both individually and collectively?
I do. Even though it hurts. Even when I’m exhausted.
So today, for a minute I'm naming that I don’t have it in me for the fight.
But I’ll show up anyway — rest anyway - love anyway - because love is its own form of resistance.
Much love to each of you.
Thank you for being community with each other...and with me. 💜
🔥 Friend, how are you holding up? Share your thoughts below—mutuality is 💙