For more than 5 years now, I have written a letter almost every Friday to celebrate the glimmers of joy and lessons I’ve learned from tragedy and frustration. I’ve processed some of the most monumental moments with you to allow strangers to learn from my life. Kinda weird, but therapeutic for me, too. Creators have to create.
The letters are usually the most simple writing for me to summon. It makes me happy. I usually create a first draft voice to text in a few minutes on Monday, edit on Wednesday, and send my musings to you by Friday morning. It’s the only thing I do last minute because these words come from a place of inspiration, not aspiration. This writing comes naturally to me.
As I attempted to write about Pride for this week’s letter, I felt a wave of writer’s block I haven’t in so long. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make a whimsical message. Every story I started to write turned dark pretty quickly. The lessons felt like lies. Even the joy of sharing that my niece asked for a Barbie that was “not a boy or a girl” felt empty. Every word I wrote just made me feel more stuck.
I know I make it worse when I succumb to the scroll on social media. It happens more than I want it to. Most of the posts in my feed feel like indicators that across every measure of progress towards a more balanced society, we are going backwards. Not just trans people. Not just LGBTQ+ people. Everyone.
This Pride simply doesn’t feel so colorful. It all seems black and white when there are lives on the line.
I also know the overwhelm is part of the strategy to make a society accept that this is “just how it has to be” when we can do better. We should do better.
So if you’re feeling like I’m feeling, my only advice is to rest. I’m trying, too.
Later, we will keep doing everything it takes to make the world more colorful.