Hi Friend,

These are unprecedented times. I once spoke of fire as a metaphor to represent my prediction of this time—a wildfire that does not ask permission before it burns. It consumes, it devastates, it transforms. As this was once a warning, the wildfire is now reality. The fire is here, and we are watching it reach deeper into the core of our civilization, threatening human rights, safety, and stability.

It is natural to feel fear, anger, grief. The structures we relied on, and the sense of security we held, all feel unsteady. The fire is burning, and it will continue to burn. This is not a moment of quick resolution; it is a reckoning. And yet, in the midst of the destruction, there is something else emerging. A stillness. A quiet strength. A deep calling to connect to withstand the flames.

I see more people choosing community over chaos, choosing to gather instead of flee. Fighting fire while it rages is nearly impossible, but all fires, no matter how relentless, eventually burn out. They consume their fuel and turn to ash. What matters is what we do in the meantime.

This is not just a time to endure—it is a time to prepare, to strengthen. To learn from those who came before us.

Learning From The Past

During the wildfire of the Civil Rights Movement, resistance was not just about the marches, the sit-ins, the protests. It was also about the moments in between. The moments of gathering, of joy, of holding each other up. It was in these spaces that people refueled their spirits for the long fight ahead. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

The co-burning wildfire of the LGBTQ+ liberation movement of the 1960s knew this too. When it was illegal to exist openly as LGBTQ+, people still found each other in the quiet corners of community. Safe spaces like the Stonewall Inn were more than shelters; they were places where joy persisted despite oppression. And when the time came to resist, it was the strength of that connection—built in love, in celebration, in shared humanity—that ignited the fight. As Marsha P. Johnson reminded us, “No pride for some of us without liberation for all of us.”

As AOC said, “A system that is built on oppression is built to fail.” The fire is not just destruction; it is a revealing. It is showing us what has been broken for far too long. We cannot put it out alone, but we can resist where we must. We can take care of ourselves and each other. We can find joy amid hardship—not as an escape, but as a necessity.

Strengthing for Beauty

I have seen fire before. In the early 2000s, a wildfire tore through land my family owned, leaving nothing but scorched earth behind. And yet, when the fire had passed, what grew in its place was greener, fuller, more alive than ever before.

Not many may come across these words, but you are here, reading them now. So I am speaking directly to you. This is not the end—it is a transformation. The question is not whether change is coming, but how we will move within it. I invite you to pause and truly reflect: How are you showing up in this moment? How are you organizing, grounding yourself in community, and creating space for joy? What are you doing to nourish your strength, so that when the time comes, you are ready?

Will we let fear consume us, or will we learn to dance within the fire?