cw: non-graphic discussion of ICE murder of Renee Good, mention of US invasion of Venezuela

this isn’t gonna have The Format, nor will it have memes. (it will have a Pudding picture; i’m not a monster.) i don’t want to write right now. i want to curl up under a down duvet and a knitted weighted blanket, frantically pat the bed next to me so my damn cat will come be little spoon, and weep.

a week ago, my country invaded a sovereign nation and kidnapped its leader. three days ago, my country murdered a woman in my city and lied through its teeth about how and why. both these atrocities were bought and paid for by my tax dollars.

just before both those things, i had emailed a beloved mentor, “I keep seeing posts of people saying 2026 will be even harder than 2025. While I see their point, I also see more momentum and community than ever in fighting back for a better world. I keep my eyes open, but I'm hopeful.”

i recognize biographical details of renee good’s life in common with my own, which is something i may explore in writing soon. but even without that, ICE’s murder of a legal observer (or of anyone, really) in my city would split my heart open. i am heartbroken for renee good’s loved ones: her wife, her three children, the youngest of whom is six years old. and, i am heartbroken for what happens inside a human soul that makes the abduction and murder of fellow human beings seem reasonable.

all of this wouldn’t hurt so much if i just felt despair. but i don’t feel despair. i genuinely believe that the way things are is not the way they have to be. i don’t believe anyone is inherently evil, which is why my heart breaks when people decide to commit evil.

doom is a numbing pill, and i’ve lived too much of my life in numbness. the alternative - allowing myself to truly, deeply love the world - is, to be fair, profoundly painful. my heart feels like it’s gone over a box grater, and my brain, like a wheel of brie left on the rack of an oven for well over an hour.

please read those descriptors with a bit of dry humor. i’m okay, i’m stable, i’m still able to make jokes. this all just hurts, no way around it. i suspect it’s only going to get worse here in the twin cities. but i’m not going anywhere.

something those outside my city may be missing: the reason we have multiple camera angles showing what happened to renee good? the reason she was there to begin with? the reason she and her wife moved here at all? is because there is real, meaningful energy on the ground here to build a better world. for weeks, people here have been organizing and mobilizing to fight back against the abduction of their neighbors. jacob frey, that human incarnation of an ill-fitting suit, is not going to save us, even if he’s learned to swear. we save us. we keep us safe.

and each of us has a different part to play. for many reasons i am not a human who gets out in the streets, and i have for years felt immense shame about this. but in this week, it’s clicked for me: my deliberate time spent this last year focusing on my health, the multiple therapy sessions a week, the drilling down into things i’m good at and things that give me joy… all this is paying off.

i won’t go into details here because safety first. i will just say, i keep seeing things happening in my various communities and going “oh. that’s a situation that could use a specific skill i have. and i have the energy to help. so i will help.” it’s not loud and raucous, but neither am i (usually). turns out that building a better world really does need all of us.

i share this not to toot my own horn, but because i know many loved ones for whom getting in the streets is just not a realistic prospect. i see loved ones feeling ashamed of this, worried that they’re cowards or hypocrites. i see loved ones shutting down because feeling both the pain of what’s happening to us all, AND the helplessness to change that, is too overwhelming.

but we’re not helpless. there is a place for you - your gifts, your experiences, your niche specific superpowers. at the very least, something you can do to resist the powers that be is to refuse the emotional effect they are trying to create in you. they want you to feel helpless. they want you to feel afraid. they want you to turn your anger inward and be thus frozen, rather than outward, where it belongs, towards the people committing atrocities against fellow human beings.

with all my love, do not take the numbing pill of doomerism. cry when you need to. drink water to replenish. then turn to a loved one and brainstorm how you can get in the mix and make good trouble.

i will leave you all with three poems for These Trying Times.

an award-winning poem by Renee Good, may her memory be a blessing: “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs” by Renée Good

a title/repeated line that’s been on my brain so much this week: “Try to Praise the Mutilated World” by Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh

and the poem read to me by a former friend whom i miss, on the night of the election in Nov 2024: “September 1, 1939” by W.H. Auden

There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

and of course of course of course put down the pitchforks i’ll leave you with a Pudding picture too!! sheesh!!

i love you all. rest up. drink water. fight back.