I’ve been avoiding talking about politics on my platform because it’s still so small, and I’m still so new, but it can’t be dodged forever. I’m a mixed-race, bisexual, disabled transman. My existence shouldn’t be controversial but it is. It always has been. I’m old enough to remember being called Oriental as a slur. My mom and I used to be told to “go back to where you came from” sometimes when we’d just be doing things like grocery shopping. And while some things have gotten easier over the years, not all of it has. Matthew Shepard was murdered just a year or two before I came out as bi. My sister had a trans friend who was murdered for just being herself. It’s been 40 years of struggle. 40 years of being treated like an outsider because some of my family comes from the Philippines, and then because of who I love, and finally because of my gender. 

But that doesn’t mean we have to accept it. That doesn’t mean we just roll over and let them do what they want. My existence shouldn’t be political, but it is. It always has been. But it doesn’t have to be that way. And I’m here to give you some tips on how to weather the coming storm. 

The first thing I want you to do is breathe. One way or another we’re getting out of this but in order to pull it off we need to think clearly. We need to think clearly so we can plan how we’re going to navigate the next four years. I didn’t get to where I am by panicking (though there has been a lot of that.) I’ve been through some horrendously bad things over my 40 years, and I’m hoping that, by writing this, I can impart some of my wisdom onto you. Because it’s going to be hard, but I know you can do it. Just breathe. 

It’s important to remember that, no matter what happens, you’re going to be okay. Okay might not look achievable from where you’re standing now. I get that. Part of why it took me so long to leave my abusive ex-husband was because I couldn’t see that it would be hard at first, but I’d be better off in the end. All I could hyperfocus on was the bad. And there was a lot of it. He had successfully isolated me, for one thing. The only real life friends I was allowed to have were his. I only had online friends because he felt those weren’t “real” relationships. And it made it hard to get away. On top of that, by the time I was actively looking to leave, I had already started my gender journey, and I found out the hard way that women’s shelters aren’t always LGBTQIA+ friendly. I had nowhere to go, and even if I did get away, what then? Poverty? Losing custody of my kid to an incel who treats people like objects? That hyper fixation on the “what ifs” was part of what kept me there for so long. So I’m telling you to acknowledge the what-ifs but not hyper fixate on them. Focus on beyond that. Tell yourself what you’ll do once things are better. Paint a world that you want to work towards, and start working on that. 

Cultivating hope in dark times is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. It’s okay if you don’t feel hopeful every second of the day. It’s okay to break down, and cry, and throw things if you have to (though I do encourage throwing pillows if it comes down to it.) But you have to look for hope. This is where artists of all flavors shine the most if you ask me. Artists are masters at capturing emotions, and so it’s to artists I always turned in the darkest times, to get me through to the other side. It’s okay to be angry with how things are. Everything that’s happening is wildly unfair. My solace in times like this, however, has always been art. Stories about struggle are universal because we all want to make it out of whatever hole we find ourselves in. It’s why all art is political. You can’t remove the political commentary from art, because they go hand in hand. 

These are the things that have helped me weather my traumatic childhood and the marriage I jumped into in a desperate attempt to escape, which is why I’m recommending them to you now. Take things one moment at a time if that’s all you can manage. Try to get into mutual aid circles to help if you can. The future isn’t promised to any of us but it’s only by working together that we can see any kind of change. I can’t promise it’ll be easy. But it’ll be worth it.