There’s not much to say about the events of last week. Well, I mean there’s a lot to say, but nothing that’s going to change anything. It’s not what I wanted, what I voted for, and I’m heartbroken by the results. I’m worried and angry. And I’m legitimately scared. Yes, I’m scared for myself because while I have a certain level of privilege because of my skin color, I am not rich, and I am not straight, and I am not a man. But even more than that, I’m scared for those who are more marginalized than I am, who are more than just queer and a woman. POC, trans, Muslim, Jewish, so many more…they are all in danger.
I can’t change the outcome of the election. What I can do is fight for change in our society. Donating to agencies that will lose their funding, donating to ones who can take legal action, standing up in the face of hate.
Part of that is my writing, sure. I will continue to write boys falling in love with boys. It’s been tough this week to get into the headspace to do that, though. Because the hurt and anger and fear was so raw. It’s why I didn’t put up a flash fic this past Friday…the one I’d planned did not come true. It’s hard to be creative when you’re so upset.
But I will do my part, and part of that is writing. I’m just a drop in the bucket. But if all the drops get together, we can create an ocean.