I know I’m not the only one who feels the weight of the world a bit more heavily as of late. It’s easy to slip into a spiral, feeling hopeless and small against all of the injustice and violence we seem to be seeing on a daily basis. 

“I know I’m not the only one who feels the weight of the world a bit more heavily as of late.”

I’ve had plenty of moments of anger, frustration, grief, sadness, helplessness — and my fair share of mornings trying to avoid news notifications, afternoons zoning out, and evenings scrolling in bed wondering if there’s anything good happening. 

But something shifted in me in early 2025. I didn’t want to sit in those feelings. I knew they were important to feel, but at the end of the day, sitting around and feeling bad was doing no good for me…or the things I was sad about. 

I quickly became determined to not allow the current administration and anything they did make me sit around and wallow. Instead, I decided that I would not let my joy, my creativity, and my sense of community burn out. (I even got a tattoo as a reminder of this, a small lit match, on my left arm where I’m able to see it every day.) 

I started proudly sharing and writing about my identity as a creative, bisexual, neurodivergent woman who’s a little chaotic but full of a lot of love. I joined a writing group to find a community of like-minded people who want to make the world a better place. I made a conscious effort to shop local as much as possible instead of going to big box stores. I also dance whenever a song sounds good, wear absurdly colorful outfits, and try to make my friends and family laugh as much as possible. 

In a time where queer and neurodivergent people’s existence is constantly being questioned, living out loud like this is resistance. I’m privileged to be safe and able to do it. And part of why I do it is so that if anyone else out there feels even a little bit alone in these trying times, that they’ll know they aren’t. And that they deserve this joy too — even when people in power tell them they don’t. 

“In a time where queer and neurodivergent people’s existence are constantly being questioned, living out loud like this is resistance.”

I’ve seen so many powerful acts of joy as resistance all around. “Heated Rivalry,” a show that unapologetically celebrates queer identity, blew up in popularity against the backdrop of a homophobic administration. Trans actress Dylan Mulvaney made her Broadway debut as Anne Boleyn in “Six” the musical, smiling wide and standing proud, even as anti-trans legislation is being proposed in states across the country. Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl performance highlighted the diversity within our own country, a reminder that Americans come from many cultures — a beautiful and powerful statement in the face of an increase in ICE and anti-immigration policies we’re seeing every day. 

These moments matter. Their joy signals to the rest of the world that no one is alone in this and signals to those in power that no matter how much they try, we will not be defeated or erased. 

“Their joy signals to the rest of the world that no one is alone in this and signals to those in power that no matter how much they try, we will not be defeated or erased.” 

Joy as resistance is not a new concept. Queer Black women have been the thought leaders of this conversation for years. Audre Lorde wrote her revolutionary essay “Uses of the Erotic” in 1978. Despite the name, it’s not explicitly about eroticism in the sexual sense. Instead, it’s about the idea that embracing our own pleasure — whether that’s dancing, creativity, community, or any other kind of joy — is an act of resistance in a society that asks us to repress the full expression of ourselves. 

“For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of,” Lorde writes. 

When we understand and embrace what we deserve, we accept nothing less, and this is a powerful act of resistance. Instead of sitting in sadness and hiding away, we demand a better life for ourselves, for others, and for our collective future. 

How to use joy as resistance

But what are some tangible ways we can bring this kind of joy into our lives? For one, we can start by allowing ourselves to live loudly and unapologetically about who we are. 

Maybe it’s by being a good neighbor, being the one your friends can call for a good conversation, or living your identity out loud, too. It starts with understanding ourselves and being able to live authentically, because then we can reflect goodness and love outwardly to those around us. Our own internal joy can become communal joy, which is a powerful agent for change. 

“Our own internal joy can become communal joy, which is a powerful agent for change.”

Lindsey Cherek Waller, an artist I admire who paints tablescapes and still lifes that depict queer joy, community, and resistance, agrees: “[My paintings are] my way to imagine the world that I want to create, and that world is rooted in community and gathering and connection,” they say. 

What does the world you want to live in look like? What are some tangible ways you can create that world in your life now?

“I’m finding joy in cooking meals for me and my partner, but also my friends. I’ve been finding joy in hosting; having people come to my home has been really special,” Cherek Waller says. “I also have a group chat… and every Wednesday, me and my friends go to our favorite wine bar… having that kind of committed time carved out for each other is really special.”

Being together — and being together while full of joy — makes us stronger, together. 

“Being together — and being together while full of joy — makes us stronger, together.”

Adrienne Marie Brown, author of “Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good” (an incredible book that I highly recommend reading if this topic is interesting to you), writes in the introduction of the book: “Pleasure activists believe that by tapping into the potential goodness in each of us we can generate justice and liberation, growing a healing abundance where we have been socialized to believe only scarcity exists.” 

When we tap into our joy, we find abundance. For example, in capitalism, we’re told scarcity abounds. In joy and community, we find mutual aid, community action, and abundance, together. 

“Pleasure is the point,” Brown writes. “Feeling good is not frivolous, it is freedom. We can gift it to each other a million ways; with authentic presence, abundant care, and honesty… Find the pleasure path for your life and follow it… Let it shape a future where feeling good is the normal, primary experience for all beings.” We can be angry at the world. We can grieve. We can feel all of our feelings. But we must also gather and feel joy so that we hold onto hope.

“We must also gather and feel joy so that we hold onto hope.”

We must also find joy for ourselves and within ourselves every day. Because if we know our value and our worth, we won’t accept anything less. And if we know that we deserve joy, they can’t take it away from us.

Brianna Schubert is a writer and editor based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She is a Contributing Editor at The Good Trade, an editorial assistant at Motley Bloom, and a freelance writer. She has a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Since 2023, Brianna has combined her expertise and investigative skills to deliver thoughtful reviews of sustainable products and home goods, helping readers make informed, eco-conscious choices. Brianna is also the writer behind The Mood Board, a Substack newsletter for creativity and inspiration. When she’s not writing, you can find her cooking up a new recipe, reading and recommending books, cuddling with her cat, or yapping with her friends at a café. Say hi on Instagram!