Making space for joyful noise.

And cheering for an optimistic outcome.

We’re all holding our collective breath.

All conversation paths lead to the election. There’s a hazard up ahead, a traffic accident in progress. Do you white knuckle the steering wheel or take the longest route possible to avoid?

I sat on a NYC beach yesterday, stared into the waves, ran sand through my fingers, felt grateful for the crisp late fall breeze, watched my kid play, and exchanged friendly, easy “who are you?” questions with a man I’d just met. Everything was effortless and pleasant. Maybe even beautiful? But the hazards these days are impossible to avoid; inevitably, a couple hours into warming up to each other, we hit the election crossroads. I wanted to be my best self, to ask questions, stay curious—channel Astead Herndon reporting from Anywhere, U.S.A. That’s not what happened. Instead, I heard myself urgently, desperately arguing against this acquaintance’s decision to protest our country’s support of the Israeli military by not voting at all. “This year, I’m a single-issue voter.” More accurately, a single-issue nonvoter.

Civil disobedience has a place, but so does electoral strategy. I argued that abstaining from this cycle is a vote for the worst possible outcome. He was unconvinced, offended; anyhow, he explained, his vote wouldn’t matter in NY. “I think Harris will win.” I wish I felt even cautiously optimistic.

I tried to find an angle on the fly, hyper-aware that my kid was in earshot and we had waded into conflict in someone else’s home. I proposed that in a contested election with a numbers-obsessed narcissist, the popular vote mattered. Because it will matter to him.

And then I came out as a trans man, afraid for my future. Because I’m never a single-issue voter, but I also feel material stakes here at home. I told the stranger that Odessa, Texas, not only passed a transgender bathroom ban, but the city council wrote in a $10,000 bounty of statutory damages to incentivize citizens to enforce the law. I told him about how the Moms of Liberty bigots were taking root here in NYC, organizing to ban trans girls from playing sports. I told him about Chase Strangio’s work at the ACLU, how he is set to become the first trans person to argue a case at the Supreme Court, and how this election will determine which side the federal government is on.

In hindsight, I wish I had pulled up Instagram and read Chase’s words out loud. Chase embodies what I love best about being trans—knowing in every fiber of my being that nothing is binary. ICYMI, here’s the full text of Chase’s post from October 13.

I am voting for Kamala Harris on November 5th. I do not believe in telling people what to do but I do believe in sharing why I am doing what I am doing.

First. How I think about voting.

I do not believe in our government. I do not believe that our government has the capacity to act in liberatory or even just ways.

I do not give my vote to a candidate as a prize. Only as a measured act to preserve my ability to engage in the work I believe in.

Second. Why Kamala?

I am voting for Kamala because I know what organizing and litgatinng under a second Trump will mean. It will mean an end to my health care and the care of so many in my community.

OK, maybe I can’t get you to hold your nose and vote for President, but I won’t accept sitting on the sidelines completely. There’s too much to fight for.

It will mean the Supreme Court imminently legitimizing government discriminationi against trans people for generations. It will mean federal court litgation to block government attacks will not be available.

I twill look nothing like Trump’s first term. There will be no recourse through policy or litgation to block or delay executive or legislative action like we did from 2017 – 2020.

I do not believe in Kamala Harris. But I also do not believe she is the same as Trump.

Third. How do I justify voting for someone who has facilitated so much global violence?

I justify voting for Harris because every day I engage in complicity and compromise. It is endemic to the project I am a a part of - using the law to fight governmental assults on survival opportunities.

Like making an argumnnent in federal court; like advocating for a less bad anti-trans law; like engoing the benefits of my US citizenship every day…I reluctantly choose particular forms of harm reduction.

Right now I am defending trans life and bodily autonomy as best I can in a violent and compromised system. To continue that fight I believe stopping Trump is necessary.

I won’t tell you to make this same choice. It is for each of us to make. I choose not to reward Harris or endorse her. Rather, I choose to maneuver within this matrix of vioplence by doing what I can to preserve the few tools I have.

My entire life and career are fights against the government. My vote for Kamala is part of my fight against the government.

I rested my case yesterday on this: even if you can’t hold your nose and vote at the top of the ticket, there is always something else to vote for. The Right has made real ground by focusing its efforts on lower levels of government. We must participate at all levels, too. Here in New York voters can vote for the statewide Proposal 1 (fka Equal Rights Amendment) on the flip side of our ballot and on a bunch of city props which would give our indicted Mayor even more power.

Get to your polling place. There’s too much to fight for. If you need help, or want to talk it out, I’m here.

Or don’t. But don’t give up entirely.

raquel_willis

A post shared by @raquel_willis

---

Now that we’ve gotten that plea out of the way—making some space for joy.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d raise a cheerleader, but here we are. The kid dreamt up a “Kamala Cheerleader” costume for Halloween. This morning, we ironed on the varsity leaders, DIY’d a matching pom pom, and practiced her cheer. Now I just need to find her black Converse hi-tops in her size!

Thrilled to jump off the “poll-er coaster” and go back to reading. About halfway through Ben Barnes’ The Autobiography of a Transgender Scientist (2020). Paging all the doctors reading this to help me make sense of the science parts. I still don’t know what “glial function” means but I am moved by Barnes’ career-long dedication to mentoring women and other underrepresented people in science. More to come on this.

This afternoon, biked over to my local bookstore to pick up two books by media maker Chase Joyt: You Only Live Twice (2016) and Vantage Points: On Media as Trans Memoir (2024). Also picked up the latest Best American Essays. Because, Wesley Morris.

What’s bringing you joy these days?

xx Kyle