It’s been a hard year. We all feel it. And while we are all in this together, we all know that we’re not all riding out the storm in the same sized boat.
Personally, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’m angry about how long I’ve had to be angry. It’s exhausting. But I’ve been a fighter since the first time someone tried to erase me by telling me I wasn’t really who I said I was. Frankly, that was when I was still knee-high to a grasshopper and I’m awfully tired of this seemingly never-ending fight for existence.
The exhaustion is not just because of the maelstrom defining 2020. It’s not just due to the courageously rising tide against racism and anti-Blackness in the United States, the devastating impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, the effects of climate change on our biosphere, nor the debilitating tension erupting from an overtly contentious political campaign season. No, it’s all of this and so much more.
But I am fighter. A stubborn, Irish lad who won’t settle into the status quo. Years ago, as a Catholic school student, I am quite sure the sisters weren’t very pleased with this trait of mine. There were even a few attempts to coax this stubbornness out of me with a ruler across the knuckles. Guess what? It didn’t work, and I’m grateful for its failure.
In the midst of some of the most challenging personal pain, anguish and heartbreak of my life this year – I continue to get riled up. As the clouds darkened through the spring and storms strengthened over the summer, my battered yet stubborn soul still wants to fight.
At some point in my life, I realized my fighting had transformed into advocacy. Or, at least I now talk about it in the polite way we talk about “the work.” However, the gentle sound of the word “advocating” sometimes conceals and diminishes the anger and exhaustion of many whose lifetime is spent “fighting” for survival.
Have I embraced or concealed my anger and exhaustion? Can I continue my fight to stop the marginalization, the violence and the erasure of so many during a year fraught with so much pain and grief? I don’t have the answer, but I know that before the social justice storms of 2020, too many people ignored the reality that many marginalized communities are still fighting for survival. Now as the squalls gather, I know I need more strength and hope if I am to respond to the most intense storms of my lifetime.
So, I continue to socially distance and take refuge at home, and I look for inspiration. I recently noticed a card on my bookshelf. This card says, “Ignore the rain, look for the rainbow.” This card is meaningful because it was given with love – and also because it’s so simply complex. I remember opening the card like it was yesterday.
As I read the beautiful sentiment years ago, I was instantly uplifted during a very challenging time. My emotional response to this simple statement reminded me to intellectually consider my perspective: to look for the good, even during the worst storms.
But how are we to do that? Earlier in the year, it seemed impossible to even gather the strength to put on real pants. While many hoped we would be sprinting back to normalcy, it has become clear that this struggle has morphed into a marathon. I realized I wasn’t ready; I never trained for this sort of thing. Or had I?
As I work from home, day after day and week after week, the simple message on the card continues to demand my attention. Actually, the message – written in rainbow glitter – sparkles and shimmers whenever sunlight comes through the window, and so it beckons me with a subtle happy rainbow. With time to kill between Zoom calls, I often ponder on the meaning of this simple message and quickly lose myself in a labyrinth of over-analysis.
Can we ignore this metaphoric yet tumultuous storm of 2020? Of course not. We are writing history, yet we understand that these social justice storms are not a unique phenomenon. Our history tells us there are people who will always choose to keep the storms brewing. This is clear from the overwhelming deluge of negativity in our news cycle of death, violence and vitriol. And yet, there are still rainbows.
Rainbows have been a beacon of hope since the dawn of time. We look at them as young children with awe and wonderment. Later we learn about prisms and the science of light reflecting through water droplets. It’s no wonder Gilbert Baker was inspired by this symbolism in 1978 for our LGBTQ+ movement. Rainbows are simple and yet so complex.
We also learn that there cannot be rainbows without a little rain. In the midst of every storm, I see rainbows when people show up for one another in the ways that they can. Some donate time. Some donate money. Some are listening. Some are learning. Some advocate. Some march. Some fight. Each are rainbows.
They rise from the rain to bring joy and hope for a brighter future. These simple homages to our collective actions provide encouragement to those who continue to fight for survival and acknowledge those who have lost that fight. In these uncertain times, we must be brave enough to keep looking for the rainbows. Or better yet – show up and become the rainbow.
Nathan Bruemmer is the vice president of St Pete Pride. He was named one of Tampa Bay’s Most Remarkable People for his advocacy.
