Advice

“I’m having a hard time with the idea of going home this holiday. Over the last year I have seen many family members & friends posting in support of Tr•mp, and I feel really disappointed/disgusted/betrayed by the people I once considered to be some of the best humans I know. Do you have any advice on how to look past this election & find a way to respect them again? They view themselves as such champions for what is right, but i’m having a hard time regarding them as even decent human beings.”

Question submitted by Anonymous

Kristin Says:

Oh, Anonymous. This is a question that has been chewing at my insides for the past few weeks: will my relationship with my extended family who supported the ideals of this man ever be the same again?

I am not sure if I am writing you advice too early in my own processing, or if this is actually the best time to tell you how I feel… but right now I do not believe that I will ever feel the same about those close to me who helped usher in this incredibly dangerous administration. It doesn’t mean I do not love them, but it does mean that I cannot go back to how things were before. While that saddens me deeply, I think that it is also vital to approaching the work we have ahead of us. We cannot put the comfort and ease of dismissing these realities ahead of standing up for what is right, and what is necessary. We cannot dismiss what has happened. And, in my opinion we should not, and can not, put this election behind us. It is very much ahead of us, and it must stay in our line of sight, as painful as that can often be.

You sound like you usually approach things similarly to how I always have: by ensuring that my family knows I love and respect them despite our differences. By keeping the peace. By hoping on hope that my extension of these comforts would slowly help better position them to fight for my equality and the equality of others. And, while there is beauty to patience, love, and respecting difference, the differences that we are discussing directly impact the equality, safety, and lives of millions of human beings. I do not believe that we can or should extend them these comforts any longer.

This holiday season, I urge you to first take all of that compassion that you have in your beautiful bones, and direct it inward. Take care of you. Just like they say in airplane safety messages, you must put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. Here is a list of self-care tips that I put together in the wake of the election. Use them today, tomorrow, and all through the holidays. Center yourself. Breathe.

If taking care of yourself is step one, then extending our collective attention, compassion, outreach, and action toward LGBTQ communities, brown, black, and Muslim communities, Jewish communities, disabled and immigrant communities is step two. What this means is that, if conversations come up between you and your family members about this election, you can either choose not to engage (because you are saving those efforts to work directly for and with those communities!), or you can answer in ways that will lift these communities up. For example, if they say something like, “Well, I love you and care about you and I think marriage equality will be safe,” a short response might be: “I didn’t only vote for myself or for marriage equality. While there are direct threats to the LGTBQ community in this administration, I do not only center those concerns. I want all people to be treated equally in this country, and for all people to be safe and respected. That has not been our reality for a very long time, and my focus is and always will be on fighting for an administration and a country that will center those concerns.”

If your family responds to these sentiments by asking open, honest questions – if they seem as though they genuinely want to understand more about what you are saying – then acknowledge that and tell them that you would be happy to send them more reading materials, and more of your thoughts, after the holidays. I say this because I know the weight I feel in my center right now, and despite being quite a fighter, I know that I need to get through the immediacy of the holiday season, and to continue that engagement with my family on my own terms, and at my own pace. My order of business is: first, keeping myself standing, second, using that energy to lift up lgbtq and other marginalized communities, and third, using what is left to engage with those close to me who do not understand the consequences of their actions.

If, dearest Anonymous, they are “champions of what is right” as they say they are (and as, I know, you wish for them to be), then they will challenge themselves to do better, starting right now. There is an incredible essay called “If You Voted For Him” by John Pavlovitz that I urge you to share with your family at some point in your collective journey together. It outlines exactly how anyone who champions equality should be acting right now, regardless of who they voted for on November 8th.

It is okay to feel the way you are feeling right now; it is imperative. Take hope from those of us around you are facing the very same mountain this holiday season, and let us lean on each other as much as possible. Watch this livestream that I did last week, which addresses this question and many others specific to post-election holidays. We have to take things one step at a time, dear Anonymous. You can love them through this, that I do believe, and they can love you back… but things are different. It is hard, but important, to allow that new reality to exist, and to respond accordingly.

All my love to you.

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"Self-care. Please self-care."
Some thoughts on preserving yourself / ourselves in a complicated time
by Kristin Russo

hello there, lovely readers.

for the past six years, most of my advice has been rooted in my lived experience. when you came to me with broken hearts, i told you how my own broken hearts had felt, and how i made it through to the other side. when you were having trouble with parents who didn’t accept you for who you are, i shared my own experience as someone who came out to a very catholic mother. when you found yourself in love with your best friend, i told you how i, too, fell hard for mine (and survived).

now, though, in this post-election world, we are facing some pretty big feelings together, in real time. i haven’t walked through this particular mix of sadness, confusion, and grief before – in big part because of my own cis, white privilege. perhaps you are more familiar with these feelings of confusion and grief than I am or, perhaps, you have found yourself just as embarrassingly railroaded by them as i have.

one thing i believe to be true for all of us, though, is that – now more than ever before – we must take care of ourselves.

some of us have been angry for days, others of us have fallen into a pool of sadness; some of us have been quiet and scared, others have taken to the streets with loud voices and painted signs. this fight has been and will continue to be one that requires our stamina, our strength in the face of hardship, and our resolve to hold each other up. this is a short list of ways in which i think we can do just that:

• give as much value to turning off your phone as you give to turning it on. yes, it is important to know what is going on in the world around us. i, too, know the deep pull to constantly check my social feeds, to share my thoughts, feelings, and findings with others, and to gather, collect, & critique that information. that is important, necessary work. however, those dives into the land of digital information can (and do) often snowball down into a dark, weighted place – especially in times like these. we must take breaks. don’t bring your phone into your bedroom at night. if you need it as an alarm? put it in airplane mode. set boundaries: don’t look at your phone or digital media of any kind during mealtimes, and give yourself at least an hour before bed and after waking up before re-engaging.

• talk to your friends. laugh with your friends. when the world feels heavy, sometimes we feel we are not allowed to let light in. please, please, let the light in. make a concerted effort to plan time together with those you love. facetime with your long distance friends, meet your amazing cousin for a drink, gather at your best friend’s house to have a coloring party, or schedule a weekly movie & grilled cheese night (!!). you are allowed to have fun. you are allowed to laugh. if fighting this fight is the exhale, consider these moments of laughter and levity to be the inhale. they must exist together.

• go outside. this planet is a beautiful, magical place. leaves change color and fall from their branches, streams bubble over rocks as they have for centuries, clouds make ever-shifting shapes in the sky. make time for yourself, at least once each day, to appreciate this beauty. put your work, your phone, and all else aside and commit to taking a walk outside every day (even if you have to bundle up in the cold weather!). those shifts in perspective & moments of reflection can underpin some of our most important ideas.

• look for new ways to engage with community. i recently received an email from a friend who told me that, in the wake of the election, she had decided to reach out to all of her old high school teachers. in her letter to them, she offered to be a pen pal or resource for any high school student who might be feeling stuck in her conservative home-state of south dakota. now is an incredible time to engage with our communities in ways we haven’t before: volunteer at local organizations who serve LGBTQ or other marginalized communities, help arrange a book-drive, look into arranging a digital meet-up, write letters to the people who have inspired you to keep fighting. engage.

• read old books, new books, used books, all books. we have a little ongoing list over here on facebookof books that are exceptionally important to the work ahead of us. you should read them. add your own recommendations to the list. read them along with your friends! heck, go ahead and start a book club! bring cheetos to share!! you can even read more than one book at a time. my wife does this, so i know it is true… she stacks them up in a big pile and then depending on how she is feeling and what she needs from a book, she chooses accordingly. you can have a horror-book and a queer-book and a comic-book and even a cooking-book all at the ready for whenever you are in need. books are like the fucking super-food of self-care.

• if you are able, be active. physical activity gives our bodies a way to use all of that whaaaaaattheeeefuuuuuck energy in ways that, at the same time, make us stronger. do ten jumping jacks when you wake up. learn how to do a sun salutation. go swimming. start running. rearrange your bedroom. organize your garage. dance to tegan and sara on full blast. do all of these things or some of them or even just one of them!

• create. there is a very silly myth that some people believe, which is that in order to create you must be good at creating. not. true. write a poem, sing a song, draw a picture, braid your hair, finger paint, make a collage. you do not have to make art for anyone but yourself, but spend some time each week on creating something… anything. remember that it isn’t the end-product that matters, it is the process itself that allows us to find new spaces of healing.

• ask for help when you need help. it is okay to struggle. reach out to those you love when your heart is breaking, when you get stuck on the couch in a whirlwind of sadness, when you sit at your desk surrounded by papers and due dates and rage, rage, rage. talk it out, yell it out, lean on those close to you, and keep a list of hotlines handy should you find yourself in need of more professional care. the trevor project is available at 866-488-7386 and the trans lifeline is available at 877-565-8860.

• breathe. like, literally… breathe. breathing regulates our entire nervous system. there are many different breathing exercises that you can learn, and you can even make it a fun new project to try a new exercise each week. my go-to is square breathing, where i breathe in for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, and repeat. close your eyes, find a quiet place, and do this for ten minutes each day – if you can, do it right when you wake up. in moments of extreme anxiety, use these breathing techniques to help you find your center.

my dears, i am going to hold tight to this list fiercely over the coming weeks, and i ask you to do the same. it is easy to feel like we cannot take a moment away from the fight because it is so vital, so critical to our own survival and to the survival of so many… but we cannot sustain it if we do not sustain ourselves.

remember that when you take time out to do these things, you are still fighting.

clear eyes, full hearts,
kristin

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Trans Awareness Week Master Post

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What Young LGBT People Need To Hear After The Election

Last Tuesday night, after watching the electoral map devolve into a red blur, I bolted to my feet and dug through drawers and cabinets in search of my emergency stash of cigarettes. At 1 a.m. in Los Angeles, I sat in my backyard, in the dark, numb. A friend called, sobbing. My sister called, hysterical. I sat very still, pulling on my cigarette, debating whether or not I should light a second right after the first, wondering if I had it in me to become the first woman who stayed in her backyard smoking cigarettes for four years, never moving, never wavering.

Read the full post by our co-founder, Kristin Russo, on Buzzfeed

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"Yesterday"
thoughts & reflection
by Kristin Russo

Yesterday I woke up after a night of tears, and saw dozens of emails and donations in support of my work with LGBTQIA youth.

Yesterday I wore my Nasty Woman t-shirt to the coffeeshop, and a black man came up to me to tell me he wanted to get one for himself and his son. I told him I would always fight for him.

Yesterday my mom called me in tears. She said she felt alone. She said she loved me. She told me I used to watch The Smurfs as a little kid, and I would look at her and say, “Look, mom, they are all holding hands. That is how you know they are gonna win.”

Yesterday I went to therapy.

Yesterday I blocked family members on social media.

Yesterday I cried. I held my wife, Jenny, close. I cried more.

Yesterday I did a livestream to create space for others in our community who were scared. We talked. We shared resources. Jenny sang The Rainbow Connection.

Yesterday I worked and I worked and I worked and I worked.

Yesterday I recorded a voice memo in an attempt to comfort a six-year-old who had woken up crying, and who asked his two moms how we could let a bad man be our president.

Yesterday I recognized and acknowledged my privilege as a white, cisgender woman.

Yesterday I feared for my brown, black, disabled, immigrant, undocumented, and Muslim friends. My trans friends. My friends who are survivors of sexual assault. My friends.

Yesterday was November 9, 2016.

Today I will fight. Tomorrow I will fight.

I will never, ever stop fighting.

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