The world is on fire today, on this 54th anniversary of the starting spark of the Stonewall rebellion. It’s hard to see that as good, though.

Yes, Paris is caught up in flames of protest, but only because police murdered yet again—this time a teenager, Nael M, during a traffic stop.

And for sure, no light can be found in the Quebec fires, further dispossessing and displacing Indigenous communities from their unceded lands, or its resultant smoke, paying no heed to borders as it freely travels across unimaginably vast swathes of the United States, Canada, and Europe with toxic air.

Never mind how Christo-fascism has only been further fueled this past year by latching onto banning abortion and implementing all sorts of genocidal machinations aimed squarely at queer and trans people.

Just trying to take a walk to stir the embers of my imagination or merely as a form of mental health/wellness—my go-to for both—is now an exercise in burning my eyes and lungs, and breathing in the rancid odor of what smells like many, many, many houses on fire. Because our home, our ecosystem, this earth, is on fire.

But lest I wander completely down the path of dystopia, this Stonewall uprising day, I took a #BeGayDoCrime stroll in honor of all of those many moments—past, present, and future—when rebels danced around flames of their own self-organizing and direct actions—flames that illuminate other possible worlds with their brilliance. Per usual, the #ArtOfResistance didn’t disappoint, even if this afternoon, in the unhealthy smoky part of this planet where I was walking, it took the form of noticing a little anarchic sticker asserting “Trans resistance” with flames of its own.

And thus my heart felt just a bit warmer, a little less burned by despair.

#StonewallWasARiot
#HonoringOurAncestors
#FightingForTheLiving
#FireInOurHearts