Oops

I'm sorry it's been a minute

I started this newsletter a few months ago to channel my deep anxieties for the world into a healthy hobby—writing and connecting with others. I wanted to inspire hope in myself and others, to share light in what felt like an increasingly dark world.

But after just two posts, I stopped. Oops. I had placed so much pressure on myself to create [dramatic voice] profound long-form pieces that every time I thought about returning to Substack, I felt like I had nothing new to say. Nothing that would be worth anyone’s time. Then came the June presidential debate, and instead of trying to come up with ideas for hopeful pieces, I found myself wondering where my partner and I could move to feel safer. Trump and the ghouls surrounding him pose a serious threat to LGBTQ+ people in the U.S.—blue states or not. Not to mention women, people of color, immigrants, national security, freedom, voting rights, healthcare, the economy, social services... we could keep going here. During those wildly bleak weeks after the debate until President Biden dropped out of the race, I had no hope left to offer. It truly felt like we were walking straight into another Trump presidency.

I doubt anyone noticed my absence during all of that, but I still want to say I’m sorry. It means a lot that anyone would subscribe to what I’m writing, and I’m embarrassed that I flopped so quickly. I believe that each of us can be the change we wish to see in the world. And at a time when we all needed hope the most, I couldn’t provide it. I couldn’t do my part.

But then, just when we all needed hope most, it happened. The moment Vice President Harris entered the race, I felt something shift—not just in me, but in the air around us. Real, genuine, unabashed hope. She sparked something powerful in all of us that had felt lost, a reminder of why we can never give up seeking hope, even when things seem darkest. It’s proof of the resilience of hope—that just when you think it’s gone, it can reappear and reignite your belief that things can get better.

Watching her campaign take off from day one has been exhilarating. She's run a nearly perfect campaign, and if she doesn’t win, I honestly don’t know how anyone could’ve done better. But I’m not entertaining that thought. I believe she will win.

I’m not saying “we’ve got this in the bag,” but I am allowing myself to hold on to hope. The polls are tight in every swing state, but I believe in her. She is ready. And most of all, we are ready for her.

As for this newsletter, I want to write again. But maybe with a little less pressure on myself this time. Perhaps it’s just a space for me to check in occasionally—to share life updates, media I’m enjoying, and other thoughts (feel free to suggest topics!). Above all, it will always be about “getting through this together.” Even during my darkest days this past summer, I believe that through building kind communities around us, we can overcome anything—or at least, we can get through the challenges together.

I like to think of being a writer as being a lighthouse. You beam your work out there, hoping the people who need it will see it.

I’m glad you’re (still) here. Let’s get through this together... again.