8. Sex Ed... Sexual Violence Prevention... and Gender Justice, 9. Racial Justice (Smash White Supremacy)

antifascist fiction birthday celebration

It’s my birthday week! I turn 37 on June 26. A few years ago I started a habit of giving out antifascist reading recommendations & requests in honor of my birthday. This year I want to focus on… antifascist fiction!

These are six amazing fiction books I read this year. For me, in very different ways, each of these works of art spoke to different dimensions of antifascist struggle. 

Please note some of these books touched on specific real-world fascist threats that may be very triggering. DM me for content notes or individualized recommendations. 

I offer the books here in the order in which I read them this past year…


Grievers by adrienne maree brown



Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters



My Monticello by Jocelyn Johnson



The Rabbi Who Prayed with Fire by Rachel Sharona Lewis



A Country of Ghosts by Margaret Killjoy



The Memory Librarian by Janelle Monae & collaborators



All I want for my birthday is for you to read one of these books sometime so you can tell me all your feelings about it!!

In solidarity, with love,



6. Youth Development & Education, 7. Research & Academia

Published Paper on Stopping Fascist Recruitment of Youth

I am thrilled to share this paper, just published, which I have been working on the past year.

Youth Practitioners Can Counter Fascism: What We Know and What We Need

  • By me, Sarah Burnham, Duane de Four, and Heather Cronk.

This paper integrates antifascism with youth development practices to present three ways in which youth development practitioners can stop fascist, White nationalist, and misogynist groups from recruiting young people into their ranks.

Download the full pdf from the Journal of Youth Development


Please share with anyone who spends time with youth — as a teacher, parent, coach, mentor, religious leader, or friend.

Please also share with anyone who might want to join my lab to get a PhD in developmental psychology while working on this stuff 🙂

Share widely! Use #YouthEquitySexualityLab on social media.

I welcome any feedback, questions, or reflections you have in response to this paper. I know it is deeply imperfect. This paper, or any paper, will not in itself stop fascism. I hope this paper helps some people take action in ways that will contribute to the fight against fascism. I hope.

P.S. Words cannot express my eternal gratitude for my co-authors on this project, each of whom made this paper significantly better than it could have been without them. My first-ever doctoral student mentee, Sarah Burnham, jumped right in to help significantly on the background research and crafting of the ideas. My longtime friend-colleague Duane de Four contributed his deep experience and keen analysis. And Heather Cronk — thank you for the many conversations that helped conceive and deepen this paper, and for your ongoing mentorship, friendship, and encouragement that helped me feel these risks could be worth it.

6. Youth Development & Education, 7. Research & Academia

Fall 2020 will be difficult

Dear students,

Fall 2020 will be difficult. We are entering a historically difficult semester, and this time we are entering it knowing that it will be difficult, unlike Spring 2020, a historically difficult semester that most of us entered unknowingly.

Life changed in response to the COVID-19 pandemic less than six months ago. Even for those of us who have been mostly safe during that time, we may still be absorbing the shock of the enormous sudden changes we had to make to our personal and professional lives.

And many are dealing with harder things on top of that. Some of you may have been sick, or had friends or family members get sick, or even lost friends or family members. Some people may be coping with loss of jobs, housing, stability. Some people may be struggling with social isolation. Some people may be reeling from the ongoing police violence this summer, or may be exhausted from personal effort invested in the ongoing fight for racial justice. There is a lot. This Spring was a lot; this Summer was a lot.

This Fall? Will probably be a lot, too. This Fall will feature a U.S. presidential election amidst ongoing uncertainty, as we continue to watch the course of COVID-19 in our local and global communities, as we continue to seek equity and justice throughout our society. And, in the midst of all this, we will come together to learn and teach.

Just because we have had some time to prepare for online courses does not mean this is normal. I do not believe we have to normalize what we are doing in order to engage in it authentically. In fact, I believe that acknowledging at the start that this is hard, and weird, and this may be a hard and weird semester, will give us the psychological space to try our best given the circumstances.

My hope is that both the content and the community of this course will be meaningful to you, and will be a positive part of your life this Fall. I invite you to approach the course with that hope and to collaborate with me to fulfill it. We will spend some time in our first two sessions talking about the course goals, and guidelines we can use to pursue those goals. Think about what you want from the course, and what might help you get what you want and need this semester. I am here to help. Perhaps there are ways your classmates can help as well. 

We will get through this together as best we can. And together, perhaps we will not only get through, but also get something out of it, something that we can carry with us to whatever comes next, in our personal, professional, and political journeys.

Thank you for including me in this part of your journey. I look forward to working with you.


Dr. Arbeit

5. Connection/ Community

Intentions for the New Decade


  1. Less sarcasm, more validation 
  2. No platform for white supremacy
  3. Honor personal relationships as the core of our organizing
  4. Let life take twists and turns, as needed
  5. Love
  6. Heal, and get hurt, and heal, and get hurt
  7. Hope beyond hope, with eyes wide open
  8. Read more novels
  9. Dance
  10. Treat people as human
  11. Treat myself as human
  12. Help myself get sleep and rest
  13. Ask for help when I need it
  14. Explore my own vulnerability
  15. Explore my own strength
  16. Go to the ocean
  17. Learn to cook (just kidding)
  18. Always be antifascist


A personal note from Charlottesville amidst past and present terror

Dear family and friends,

I’m writing from Charlottesville, Virginia, where I’m spending the summer with my girlfriend and friends and comrades before returning to Boston for the second year of my faculty position there.

I’m writing you now as we approach the second anniversary of the August 11-12 2017 white supremacist attacks on Charlottesville. I’m writing you as we grieve white supremacist stochastic terrorism through mass shootings and white supremacist state terrorism through mass detention and more. I’m writing you as I try to do my small part in organizing against fascism, and try to do more, and try to do better each day.

I’m writing to ask you for a few things. Let me know which of these things feel doable to you right now, and let’s go from there.


  • I ask you to keep supporting Charlottesville antifascists.

I am helping a group of local organizers create a positive supportive space for Charlottesville anti-racist and anti-fascist activists to come together on the second anniversary of the August 11-12 white supremacist terror attacks here. This is not a public event or action of any sort as we feel like folks need quiet company, comfort, and connection at this time. We want funds for food, drink, low-key activities, etc. for an activist-only space in which we come together in honor of our connections to one another. Your financial donation would be deeply appreciated by me personally and by my tender-and-powerful community here.



  • I ask you to keep learning about fascism and antifascism.

For my birthday at the beginning of the summer, I released my “antifascist birthday challenge,” which is really a recommended antifascist resource list. I asked people to choose one thing on the list to do: a book to read, a podcast to listen to, a Twitter account to follow, a place to give, or a way to act. I have loved receiving pledges and reflections from people who participated so far. Please check it out and let me know if you are moved by any of the resources offered!



  • I ask you to keep showing up to protect your communities from fascists.

If you are in or near Boston, please start making plans to join or support the “Straight Pride is Hate Pride” counter-protest to the dangerous “Straight Pride Parade” planned for August 31. Come to the counter-protest with a group — do not come alone. We find safety and comfort together. If you would like to join a Jewish-led presence or a queer-led presence at this counter-protest, let me know, and feel free to reach out with other questions or offers as well.


I am deeply grateful for your support in all these ways and more. Please keep in touch, please take care of yourselves, and please protect your communities from these ongoing fascist threats.

With love,




2 years since J8

TW: KKK, counter-protesting, police violence, Summer of Hate, J8, A12, personal reflections
Today marks two years since the KKK rallied in downtown Charlottesville. We organized a #BlocKKKparty as a counter-protest. A thousand community members held space in celebration and defiance. The 10 Solidarity Cville demands to the officials of Charlottesville were released — the first demand was to deny the permit for the upcoming August 12 Unite the Right attack on Charlottesville. We already knew that would be violent. We already knew that would be worse than the Klan rally in a million possible ways.

And yet we also knew we would not allow our community to be used as a platform to promote a white supremacist genocidal agenda. So we poured ourselves into counter-protesting the KKK.

The dozens of Klansmen came and went. Several police forces in riot gear protected them every step of the way. Our people were hurt and defiant, as is perfectly valid and understandable in the face of such state support for racist horror. Some people stayed in the street, holding space to reclaim the streets we walk down every day. Some people were resting on the sidewalk, injured and panicked. The police — the police —

Months later, an investigatory report would reveal that the tear gas was a rogue order. It didn’t come from the top. The cop who ordered the tear gas would say, as later reported: “you are damn right I gassed them, it needed to be done.”

Us. He was talking about us. The people of the community. The people rallying against racial terror. The people presenting a vision for racial justice. The people still in the streets when the Klan was long gone.

I personally did not get hit with the tear gas. I was waiting with a friend who had a cramp and needed to sit down. Then someone else noticed the line of cops in riot gear who were starting to prepare, and got us out of the way. Many of my dear friends and comrades continued to face the cops in defiance. Our streets. Our streets.

The cops released a lot of tear gas. They blatantly directly attacked our people. Our people.

Tear gas takes an incredible toll on the body. In the moment yes of course — and for days afterwards. That’s what I learned that week. The attack had physical and emotional after-effects that decimated us.

July 8 marked the beginning of a nightmare. I fell apart. I tried to hold it together but I fell apart. We had one month left to prepare to counter-protest the Unite the Right and defend our community from the blatant plans to perpetrate white supremacist violence. We didn’t know exactly what was coming but we knew it would be really, really bad.

I have been thinking a lot about the decisions I made over the course of the next month. The things I was able to do and the things I was not able to do. The conditions under which I was organizing. The support I needed and did not receive. The support I needed and did receive.

The support others needed that I offered. The support others needed that I did not offer.

The apologies that I may or may not have given already and yet still want to give now, from this further-away place, from this place where I am two years removed and feel it all so much more deeply, and so much more clearly, then I did then.

I wish I could go back to where I was two years ago, sit next to me on the couch, put my arm around me, acknowledge the fears, and tell myself what to do. How to do it better. How to let myself be scared and do it anyway. How to not be alone in the midst of such brilliant community and collaborators.

How to love my people and protect my people as best I could.

I am not able to go back in time and be that person for myself two years ago. I am trying now to be that person for myself and for others as best I can.

And I’m trying to find the words to give or re-give those apologies. That is something I want to do this summer. It will be difficult and also I want to do it.

I love you, Charlottesville. I’m grateful I get to be with you this summer. I love you.

9. Racial Justice (Smash White Supremacy)

Give the gift of your ACTION for my 34th birthday!

My birthday is coming up on June 26… My mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and really what I want is for more and more of you to get engaged in the fight against fascism.

So here’s an experiment: My 2019 birthday gift challenge.

If you want to wish me a happy birthday or just because you like jumping on board with a challenge or really because you also want to fight fascism, please join in:

  1. Pick at least ONE thing on this list that you will do this summer.
  2. Send me your PLEDGE by the end of June.
  3. DO your thing by the end of the summer!
  4. Tell me you DID it.
  5. Tell me how it FELT 🙂

Pick ONE specific thing (in any category!) in order to be counted in the birthday challenge… but you’re welcome to pick more than one!

Here are the options…






  • If you are in or near Washington, D.C.:
    • Join the #AllOutDC mobilization against white nationalism & the alt-right on Saturday, July 6th. Read here for details and follow @AllOutDC for updates.
  • If you are in or near Boston:
    • Please prepare to counter-protest the so-called “Straight Pride Parade” called for Saturday, August 31. Read here for details on the organizers’ far-right roots and follow this Facebook event for updates.



I will keep track and report back.

I hope this works.

I love you!

3. Queer Stuff, 5. Connection/ Community

Preaching for Pride Month

This piece is adapted from a sermon I wrote to preach at Sojourners UCC Church in Charlottesville on Sunday, June 9. I was invited to speak in honor of Pride Month about queer-inclusive faith communities. I began by reading the poem “WHAT THE QUEER COMMUNITY SHOULD HAVE TOLD US” by Kai Cheng Thom, a trans woman of color writer, performer, lasagna lover, and wicked witch.

I first read this poem years ago and thought yes, that’s what I need to hear. That’s what I need to hear over and over again.

Once when I was in college, we had a student and faculty queer mentoring event I barely remember except for Dr. Karen Singleton, a queer Black woman therapist, answering a question about what she wished she’d been told growing up about being gay.

She said: “I wish someone told me it was going to be fun. It’s really fun.”

20-year-old me breathed that thought into the depths of my body. I wanted that feeling. I wanted that fun.

I’d known I was queer for a long time before coming out. I didn’t know being queer would be so much fun. I didn’t know it would be so worth it. Worth everything. The pleasure of queer love, sex, romance. The indescribable feeling of feeling like myself.

And the other feeling layered on top of that, the feeling we call Pride. Not hubris, but pride as a good thing, pride as celebration. Telling my new coworkers about my wonderful girlfriend and her two wonderful daughters. Putting “queer femme” in my twitter bio. Visiting my favorite queer beaches and dyke bars.

The origin of Pride Month is the 1969 Stonewall uprising. Trans women of color fought back against police violence at the Stonewall Inn gay bar in New York and that’s the origin of what we honor each June.

So Pride isn’t just about coming out.

It’s about fighting back.

It’s about the acts of resistance that directly dismantle systems of oppression and liberate us and our loved ones.

Protest. Organizing. Activism.

It’s not just about who we are. It’s about what we need from the world in order to best be who we are, in order to love and thrive and have so much fun. And it’s about what we need to change in the world in order to best meet those needs for ourselves and all who come after us. Queer liberation challenges and changes the status quo.

So what does it mean to celebrate Pride as people of faith? What does it mean to celebrate Pride as a faith community?

My comments today primarily focus on this second question. I will weave a story in three parts, through three communities: the one in which I came of age before I came out; the one through which I re-entered my faith as I was coming out; and the one I yearn for now.

I am Jewish, so my experiences with personal faith and faith communities come from there.


1: Coming of Age

The community in which I came of age shows us the limits of liberal inclusion.

I grew up in a liberal community outside of Boston, Mass. I was a teenager in the middle of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell era at the turn of the 21st century. My large public high school had a Gay Straight Alliance and featured queer student speakers in our annual Diversity days. I had access to seeing, meeting, and learning from lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, transgender, and genderqueer people. I loved these opportunities and drank in thirstily every drop of queerness made available to me.

But no one ever told me it was fun to be gay. They told me gay teens were at risk for being targeted, bullied, rejected, depressed. They told me gay teens were often looked down on and had a hard time.

The desires surfacing in me made me nervous.

In the same sex ed class where I decided I wouldn’t have hetero-sex in high school because I didn’t want to risk getting pregnant, I also decided I would not come out in high school. I would not be a lesbian. I decided I was fine with being secretly bisexual and I would just focus on having crushes on guys and acting straight.

I didn’t want to be gay in high school. Not because I didn’t want to be gay ever or because I thought gay people were gross, but because I wanted to be a high achieving high school student and get into an elite college before going through what sounded like a very painful potentially volatile coming out process.

I did. I dated boys and didn’t come out and did get into an elite college.

Throughout high school, I was active in Conservative Jewish youth group, a branch of Judaism with a history of condemning same-sex sexual behavior that at the time of my adolescence allowed neither gay rabbis nor same-sex marriages. There was a lot of hetero dating going on in youth group, and examples of homophobic teasing targeting boys and girls that I’ve decided not to detail here. I don’t remember any conversations with adults about sexual orientation, until one weekend my senior year when they brought in Scott Fried, a  gay Jewish HIV-positive writer/educator who arrived full of affirmations and assurance. He told us over and over again: “You are sacred and more than enough.”

You are sacred and more than enough.

The antidote to shame is not tolerance or inclusion. The antidote to shame is enthusiastic affirmation.

You are sacred and more than enough.

I am sacred and more than enough.

It wasn’t everything, but it was a start.


2: Coming back and coming out

The community in which I re-entered my faith as I was coming out shows us the benefits and limitations of affirmation.

I got to college, and eventually, I took space from my faith.

Although the Jewish Conservative movement had adjusted some towards LGBT-inclusion, such incremental steps did not appeal to me. I wanted queerness. I yearned for queerness. I’d heard by this point, you may remember, that queerness could be super fun. And I believed it. To join a faith community again, I needed a space vibrant with queerness.

I was invited to a weekend retreat called Jews in the Woods. Before Friday night worship began, we went around in a circle to share our names and pronouns. We had workshops on consent, and many informal conversations about gender and sexuality. Through these retreats I met people based in Boston who would bring me into the Kavod Jewish social justice community when I moved home after college. This pluralistic community was rich with queer people and queer culture and queer faith and even queer sexuality.

It was with the Kavod community in Boston that I discovered the Sexual Orientation Spiderweb. Without the time — and the props — to walk you through it here, I’ll just say I found it on an online discussion board for people who are asexual, or don’t experience any sexual attractions. The sexual orientation spiderweb is a way to diagram a person’s different degrees of intensity for different kinds of desires, like desires for touch, sex, love, romance, and emotional intimacy, desires that may be oriented towards different kinds of people, like men, women, genderqueer people, butch dykes, femme queers, you name it. Literally, you label the spiderweb yourself.

The sexual orientation spiderweb was so much fun. It was fun to discover, fun to use, fun to teach. And it was really, really fun that those same people discovering it with me were also by my side as we observed Shabbat and holidays together within our faith community.

What we found in the sexual orientation spiderweb was a tool to help us identify, name, and express our own sexuality. It helped us gain clarity about what sexual connections we did or did not want to pursue in our lives — it also helped us feel Pride.

But let’s return that conception of Pride I explained earlier…

Pride is about what we need from the world in order to best be who we are, in order to love and thrive and have so much fun. And Pride is about what we need to change in the world in order to best meet those needs for ourselves and for all who come after us.

The Sexual Orientation Spiderweb and the other community-building education work I did with Kavod met some needs of visibility and recognition. It showed this community was diverging from Jewish institutional histories of active and passive homophobia. It met the need to build a faith community committed to the explicit sacredness of queer people and queer love.

But there were so many tangible needs we weren’t meeting, and weren’t prepared to meet. We were not changing the material conditions of our lives, and we certainly weren’t changing conditions for people outside our own beloved community.


3: Yearning

The community I yearn for now is both pro-queer and anti-fascist. It is taking action to make changes not just amongst ourselves but in the world at large.

Content note: In this next section, I talk generally about fascism, and specifically about the white supremacist attacks on Charlottesville in 2017.

During and after Charlottesville’s 2017 Summer of Hate, people who knew me in the Northeast before I moved here kept asking, why had I changed my focus? Why, when I used to be focused on sex ed and supporting queer youth, was I now talking mostly about fighting white supremacy? Why the apparent pivot?

I want to take artistic license here to say it was not a pivot at all but rather a clear extension of my sexuality work, but that is not the full story, is it? The summer of 2017 was actually much more than a pivot for so many of us. It was — devastating. Traumatic. Life-threatening and life-changing and life-defining and horrible and terrifying and wrong. It was a fight against an active genocidal agenda that’s been brewing for centuries and decades and years and escalating right under our feet in a way I personally hadn’t fully faced until I stood literally face to face with those fascists, and witnessed their racist rhetoric and sexist slurs and homophobic taunts.

Because while my work and much of Charlottesville anti-fascist organizing has appropriately focused on how white supremacist anti-Black racism underlies American fascism, neither white supremacy nor fascism is one-dimensional. Racism, misogyny, anti-semitism, islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia, and more are intricately linked together in the web of lies that forms the foundation of fascist justification for a genocidal authoritarian hetero-patriarchal White ethno-state.

I pivoted because I learned. I learned that my own survival as a queer person and Jewish person depends on more than affirmation and education. I learned that a community that affirms queerness is better than a merely tolerant one, but is still not enough. Affirmation is not enough. Loving queer people requires defending queer people, which requires action against people who want us dead.

This past week, 50 years after the Stonewall uprising, the New York City police department apologized for raiding that sacred queer space. But this apology from the NYPD, from an institution responsible for so much lethal and life-destroying violence against queer and trans people in the past 50 years, is not enough. We are still in danger.

In the same week as this NYPD apology for homophobic violence half a century ago, news broke that my own home city of Boston, Mass. received a permit application for a so-called Straight Pride Parade planned for this August.

As written at ThinkProgress: “The organizers behind Boston’s Straight Pride Parade should concern you: Some of the organizers are close to neo-Nazis and other white supremacists.” And here is more background on their “ties to violence and hate”.

This Straight Pride Parade seems yet another attempt to gain a platform for fascism.

Do we allow fascists to use our communities — and our identities — to push for genocide?

Do we allow fascists to normalize themselves as identitarian activists?

Do we allow fascists to parade unopposed?

No, my beloved community, we do not.

I have a lot more I want to say about this so-called Straight Pride Parade. Feel free to ask me about it, and keep an eye out for future writing too. For now I will say again: This “straight pride parade” seems yet another attempt to gain a platform for fascism.

Pride month celebrates the history of riot, resistance, protest, activism. The history of community action for survival. The history of community defense of spaces in which we gather to express ourselves, to connect and to love.

Let’s celebrate Pride by fighting fascism.

I yearn for faith communities that define being pro-queer as being anti-fascist.

I yearn for faith communities that fight together, faith communities that organize together, that build each other up to keep fighting, that organize to support others who are fighting.

As faith communities, we know how to organize: a committee, an event, a meal, a carpool. We know how to greet each other and meet each other and teach each other. We know how to sing. We know how to study, learn, practice, apologize, repent, and regroup. And because the fight itself isn’t always fun, when it’s stressful and murky and dangerous, we know how to nourish our souls and find joy together so that we can hold onto hope and do what is needed. Because there is so much that is needed.

I yearn for faith communities actively challenging and changing both internal community dynamics and the material conditions of the outside world.

And if what I’m saying feels vague and you want more specifics, I’m happy to talk and connect you with others. Because there are so many options and we need a little back-and-forth to come to something that’s right for you.

Because Pride is a commitment to fight for our survival, and our survival is under attack.

Because, in the words of Kai Cheng-Thom:

You are worth saving

& you are worth holding

& you are worth teaching

& you are worth more than political theory

& you are not disposable

& you will not be thrown away

Thank you for everything you have done, and everything you will do, in your personal lives, and together as a community, to smash fascism and dismantle white supremacy and defend our sacredness and build a world where the people currently most targeted have what they most need.

Thank you.

Graphics via Rev. Susan Minasian & Sojourner’s

5. Connection/ Community

More Poems, 2/8/2019


Sometimes i feel like a sack of nothingness

Like i am too tired and heartbroken to know who i am as a person

Or maybe that is who i am as a person

And i just don’t want to know


Last week i thought, maybe i’m dead already

And this is Hell

I found that thought very comforting

Or maybe it just let me detach

From the hardness

For a moment


I’m not writing this poem to comfort you

So i’ll end here

And just say


I hurt


There’s a place inside me that hurts a lot

There has been

Since i was ten, i guess

That’s the first i can remember

Of this

Overwhelming misery


The mirage

Of cheer


That girl

She wanted something

And then that something was


But supposed to be


So she thought she was wrong

Always wrong

To be so unhappy

Instead of being wrongly unhappy

She tried to be happy instead





What was really successful



She got really good

At seeming happy

And joyful

And caring and loving and giving

And all these wonderful things

Things she really wanted to be




She was in pain

A part of her in misery

And shame


Not to brag, but

Even then she knew

Part of that misery


Sexism and capitalism

Maybe she didn’t have those words but

She knew but

She could not escape but

She wanted to fight and

That’s good

Still miserable

But better




The thing is

This girl

This miserable girl

She’s not so nice, tbh

She’s mean

People tell her she’s mean

People get their feelings hurt

If she’s honest

If she’s sad

If she’s cranky

If she’s trying to get attention

Get seen

People don’t like her

She does it wrong

And then she doesn’t get seen

Doesn’t get taken care of

And then she’s sad again

Even more

She just







So she goes away again.

She figures

She is the problem

So she hides


The cheer

The kindness, the generosity, the warmth

The things that work better

To get attention

To get validation

To get comfort.


She doesn’t want to get in the way of that

That comfort

That’s a good thing

She wants to reach for it

She wants to ask for it


How, that’s her question




When I get Triggered back to That Summer: A Poem of Feelings in 10 parts

  1. Guilt

I feel guilty for not going bigger.

I feel guilty for not doing more, getting louder, getting angrier, being more creative, giving more, getting more, getting seen, getting attention, making more of a difference.

I feel regret.

I feel a yearning to do better.

I feel disbelief that today is now and not August 13th.

Why can’t we be back at August 13th.

Why can’t we be back at July 13th.

June 13th.

May 13th.

Why can’t we do this differently.

I don’t want to feel regret anymore.

I want to do now exactly what I should be doing.

And I feel I should be doing more.


  1. More

More for Charlottesville.

More for the Jewish community.

More for the Black women and Black queer people who are leading the way.


  1. With

More with Charlottesville.

More with the Jewish community.

More with the Black women and Black queer people who are leading the way.


  1. Now

Now when I have papers to grade.

Now when I have an exam to proctor.

Now when I am overwhelmed.

Now when my friends are overwhelmed.



  1. Still

Still, I am still.

Still, I sit with not a motion.

Still, I want more from myself.

Still, I feel the triggers rise and fall and rise again.

Fuck it.


  1. Fuck

Fuck fascism.

Fuck Nazis.

Fuck white supremacy.

Fuck you for telling me that my anger is the reason I am not being as effective as I could be.

Fuck that.

I’m not angry as a strategy.

I’m angry as a reality.

And YOU are the reason I am not being as effective as I could be.


  1. Sorry

Sorry, maybe that was too much.

It’s not you.

It’s the Nazis.

Sorry, it’s not you, I really really want you by my side.

I do, I do, I really do.

Please let’s work together.

There’s so much we can do!


  1. Please

Please don’t be mad at me.

Please don’t dismiss me.

Please don’t push me away.

Please don’t reject me.

Please don’t abandon me.

Please, pay attention.

Please, understand.

Please, give yourself the space to rage.

And work, and rage, and work, and rage.


  1. And

And love.

And work.

And rage.

And love.

And grieve.

And rest.

And love.

And hope.

And heal.

And love.

And fight.

And fight.

And love.


  1. Love

I love her every day.

I miss her every day, when I’m away.

I am better when I’m with her.

And she says the same about me.

Why would I not be there, then?

There, now.

With her, now.

I love her so much.

I feel so lucky.

I love her so much.

I’m yours.