Not My President

Starting today, I want to carry cash so I can buy copies of Street Roots, (and maybe even read them.)

I want to smile at people and greet them warmly when we pass on the street, acknowledge the light in them.

And when they ask me to smile, ask me to make their day? Well I’ll smile with my middle fingers high.

Because my smile is my own — they can’t make me start smiling, and I sure as hell won’t let them stop me.

I want to strike up conversations with people I don’t know. I want to respect my boundaries when I can’t.

I want to intercede when something feels off.

I want to bear witness to beauty and terror.

I want to live in intimacy with my fellow humans (and plants and animals,) because we are all afraid.

I refuse to let someone dismiss my pain or the pain of someone else with biblical platitudes, with insincere sentiments of “if we all just put our differences aside…”

If this election creates and propagates laws and structures that break you, I’m here to help you break them as safely and as peacefully as possible.

No government has any moral authority over me.

Only love has moral authority over me — that which acknowledges the light.

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