Dance in the Face of Fear and Hate
A response to Prism & Pen’s prompt, “LGBTQ Hope and Joy Are Antidotes to Fear.”
I lost hope in hope a few years ago. I lived in the United States through Obama’s second term and then through the Trump years. The collapse of civilisation was bound to have me question hope.
Obama rode into office in 2008 on the back of an incredible campaign with his infamous poster emblazed with one simple word, “HOPE.”
Despite the way he elevated the national conversation, it was clear the nation risked losing any progressive gains by the time Trump came to office.
Obama’s farewell speech said it all. It was less a celebration and more of a clarion call to community action. It was clear: Hope isn’t enough.
What people really want
I returned to Australia last year to find the country under conservative rule. The opposition party approached the election this year with a message of hope — almost as a way of invoking Obama’s 2008 success.
I shuddered every time I heard their message. Hope so often feels like an empty promise designed to placate the masses.
It turns out I wasn’t the only one who reacted this way. The country saw right through the shallow rhetoric and voted with a massive swing towards independents and progressives from minor parties.
The people wanted more than hope — they wanted change.
Out of the valley with fortitude
fortitude. noun. strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage. Merriam-Webster Dictionary
The times we live in call for fortitude more than hope. I like the word fortitude, as it recognises that strength is born out of danger, pain, and adversity. And the world is certainly facing these experiences right now.
The gay district in my city is known as Fortitude Valley. The name existed prior to the gay community taking over with clubs and festivals. It was historically working class and industrial.
I feel the name Fortitude Valley is incredibly apropos for the LGBTQ community. Our lives have historically been lived in the shadows and have required immense fortitude to survive.
In more recent decades, as freedoms and social protections have become stronger, the public presence of the LGBTQ community has spread itself all over the city. The queer community is no longer confined to the valley. It is fortitude that got us there.
There’s still room for hope
When I received James Finn’s prompt, “LGBTQ Hope and Joy Are Antidotes to Fear,” I knew this would be my response. But James and friends also make an important case for hope.
In the microcosm of my own life, I am hopeful. My life is much more free and joyous now than it has ever been — even on the darker days. I am aware of my privilege though.
While I cannot speak for the experiences of others, I can imagine there are people in parts of the world where hope risks sounding like a distant — and somewhat empty — promise.
And yet in the same way that I drew strength from the courageous stories of others at the time — thinking, maybe there’s hope for me — so too can our stories give hope to others.
Joy is our secret sauce (along with a bit of dancing)
Dance, my friends. Dance in front of hate and fear.
There’s something deeply countercultural — or even revolutionary — about joy. When Christian evangelists would stand on the edge of the Twin Cities Pride event screaming hate through their megaphones, the queer community danced in front of them.
There was an attitude of, you cannot steal our pride today or any day. Rather than respond to hate with anger, people turned it into music.
This riled up the evangelists even more. Joy is a grenade of cognitive dissonance for people who have spent their entire life hating and fearing others.
Looking on at a joy-filled street of rainbow-coloured people of all nationalities, genders, shapes, and sizes with hateful eyes makes neurons explode.
So yes, I feel the Prism & Pen prompt was right on — hope and joy can be an antidote for fear. And so too can courage, fortitude, and even dancing.
So, dance, my friends. Dance in front of hate and fear.
This story is a response to the Prism & Pen writing prompt, “LGBTQ Hope and Joy Are Antidotes to Fear”.