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.