Your assessment is that, because I choose to respond to your comments, I am judging you? Curious.

Thank you for sharing more about your experience. I want to address some of the points you’ve raised directly because I think we’re talking past each other on a few key issues.

First, I completely understand the fear of federal overreach and how that looms over all of us. That said, I stand by my point that state and local protections do matter and can create meaningful safety nets, even under hostile federal conditions. We’ve seen this play out in areas like sanctuary cities and states that shield reproductive rights—it’s not perfect, but it’s not nothing. Dismissing these efforts as futile overlooks the resilience and resourcefulness of people working on the ground.

Second, I want to state directly that advocating for local action is not a privileged or naive stance. I’m not saying anyone should "just stay and fight" in places where their safety is in immediate jeopardy. What I am saying is that for those who can, building and strengthening community networks locally is a viable and hugely necessary strategy. This isn’t about romanticizing resilience, it’s about recognizing that not everyone has the means to leave, and for many, their survival depends on collective action where they are. I believe that mutual aid is a necessary strategy in combating the system we live in, and mutual aid tends to gain better traction in progressive areas in which we tend to congregate. We have a much better chance of supporting each other when we can get offline and be within a local community.

Third, I find it curious that you’ve interpreted my perspective as judgmental. Sharing my thoughts and responding to your concerns doesn’t inherently equate to passing judgment. In fact, engaging in this conversation reflects a respect for your viewpoint, not a condemnation of it. It’s odd to me that my willingness to respond thoughtfully is seen as evidence of judgment rather than dialogue. If anything, I’ve emphasized that people should make the choices that best serve their safety and well-being. That’s why I’ve taken care to frame my argument around what is possible for different people, not what anyone should do in a moral sense. I’d ask you to reflect on why you might assume judgment where none was intended. We are not enemies, we are kin, and disagreement is not evidence that I am devaluing your contributions and feelings.

Now, on the idea of “quixotic gestures” that you’ve expressed, I see great importance in recognizing that what might seem idealistic or symbolic to one person can be a lifeline or an act of defiance for another. Building community in progressive areas isn’t about tilting at windmills, it’s about creating grounded, tangible structures of care and resilience in the face of systemic, existential neglect and violence. Mutual aid, forming spaces in which we can express queer joy, and combating hatred when it befalls us is how I choose to act at this time. Yes, Democrats have failed us repeatedly by treating our rights as bargaining chips or assuming that progress is inevitable without sufficient action. That’s ultimately why I believe in local, grassroots community efforts in the first place, because we as a community have seen time and time again that nobody else is coming to save us. That doesn’t make the effort quixotic, it makes it pragmatic.

Lastly, I think catastrophizing—assuming that all efforts are doomed and no safe spaces can exist—can be paralyzing and it’s just not the mode of thinking that I choose to employ at this time. I have before, and it left me feeling powerless. This doesn’t mean the fears are unfounded; they’re very real. But framing the entire situation as hopeless risks disempowering ourselves and those around us. It disregards the incredible resilience of those who continue to fight, organize, and build spaces of safety and care. My decision to remain where I am rather than fleeing to greener pastures is a measured choice based on dozens of factors that have little to do with how you personally choose to act. I see your perspective, and I value it—it’s just not the perspective I base my own choices on, as we are two different people facing different circumstances.

I deeply respect the choices people make for their safety and well-being. I’ve fled my home before and it was the right decision for me, and I respect my friends who choose to remain in Ohio. I believe that all queer survival strategies, whether they involve staying, fleeing, fighting, or otherwise, must be discussed in good faith without mischaracterizing others’ intentions or dismissing their efforts or lived experience.

I hope this clarifies where I’m coming from. I do truly appreciate the dialogue, which is why I keep responding. I understand that these conversations are hard and can be frustrating because our lives are at stake. But I also believe that good-faith discussion is essential for figuring out how we move forward—together.