Hey Queers, This is Not the End for Us

Last night, as I watched the map of the United States slowly start to be covered in red my heart broke.

Broke may not be the right word here, though. My heart felt as if the blood being pumped through it was replaced with adamantium, coating the inner walls with a thick, metal-like substance causing it sink into my gut. Standing like so many college kids after a long night of binge-drinking, I was ready to vomit my now heavy, heavy heart out of my body taking all compassion and fight with it.

I didn’t throw up. Instead, I called the only person I knew could calm my nerves: Mom. Her response was simple,

“Ryan, you voted and that’s all you can do. People live different lives.” 

Per usual, she’s right.

I grew up in rural Indiana in a town that was built on being a manufacturing center for the production of sheet iron and steel, automobiles, caskets, clothing, scales, bridges, pianos, furniture, handles, shovels, lathes, bricks, and flour. The current population is barely more than 17,000 — 95 percent of the population is white. The unemployment rate in New Castle, Indiana, is 6.3 percent, with job growth of 3.43 percent. Trump received 62.9 percent of the votes for President.

I grew up in middle-class, white America and survived. Yes, people hated me. Yes, they did what they could to make me feel less than. Yes, my rights were violated when Pence passed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. But, I never backed down. I never ran from the continuous shit storm that plowed its way into my life. I put on a f*cking rain coat and stood outside with fists raised in the air.

This is what I will be doing for the next four years, at the very least.

This election cuts deep, so take the time to lick your wounds. Hug your friends and family who need it. Tell as many people that you love, appreciate, and respect them, and then move on.

The first part of moving on, however, is forgiving the people you blame for his presidency. You exercised your right to a vote — hopefully. Your vote is no more important than your neighbors. Everyone voted for the person they believed would help the country. Not all of the nearly 60 million people who voted for Trump are racist, homophobic, anti-muslim, gun toting deplorables, and the sooner you realize this the sooner you will be able to accept his presidency — which we all have to live with.

This is how democracy works. This is America flowing, changing, evolving, and maybe even growing. If this election showed us anything, it is the long, long road we have ahead of us in achieving full equality.

Let’s be really, really clear on what ‘moving on’ means. I’m not saying to throw in any towels. Giving up in the era of Trump would mean certain defeat for queer people. Silently spectating would also mean certain defeat.

It’s time to come together as a community. Set your personal prejudices aside, because our voices can only be heard if we speak as one. It’s time to stretch those legs and march our queer, little asses to every capital building demanding we receive respect. Show them we are here, we are queer, and we aren’t going anywhere.

This means that everyone who is expressing their anger on social media needs to take their words outside the walls of Facebook and Twitter. Take to the streets. Make passionate love in the sheets. Come out to every person you meet. Stand up for injustices. Reach out to one another for support and comfort. Don’t let this setback discourage you from being angry and fighting for equality.

We’ve been bludgeoned by our neighbors, family, and strangers for too long — both as a community and as individuals. So pick up your fragile hearts and protect them.

We learned a very valuable lesson today: Our fight has just begun.