With the election results, a flood of anxiety, frustration, betrayal, sadness, and disillusionment has swept over many of us. In the wake of these results, our futures are uncertain with fears for our rights and safety pulling us under. We must allow ourselves to feel these emotions. But, as we do, we must also remind ourselves—even if just for a moment—of the resilience that defines queer people.

While spiraling yesterday, I came across something Hank Green wrote in his newsletter: “…it is not the end of America. Presidents are not dictators. There will be plenty of fights down the road, but some days you fight, and some days you live.” Green’s words reminded me that, while we prepare to fight, we must also prioritize squeezing as much joy out of our lives as humanly possible.

This duality—the balance between fighting and living—is at the heart of our resilience. We will need to fight. The fight might be for our rights or, for some of us, even for our survival. We don’t know the specifics of what’s coming, but I’m certain that we can—and will—come together to support one another as a community.

We must organize, support each other, and overcome our fear of stirring the waters. As Bayard Rustin, a gay civil rights strategist and advisor to Martin Luther King Jr., once said, “We need, in every community, a group of angelic troublemakers.”

This might mean organizing mutual aid networks [for those who don’t know, those are exchanges of resources and services that directly meet our community’s needs], calling our elected officials, showing up at protests, or simply listening to each other’s fears and experiences. Our collective strength lies in these acts; we will lean into them.

As hard as we fight—and we will fight hard—we must also make space for joy. Our joy is revolutionary in a world where some would rather we didn’t exist. Just by walking around, our lives are an act of protest. Every “Hey, girl!”, every PDA, every outfit that doesn’t conform to the norm expresses our freedom. Our existence is a testament to our strength and an act of resistance.

As Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in California and a fierce advocate for LGBTQ rights, proclaimed, “Hope will never be silent.” In choosing joy, we assert our right to exist.

Joy is also a form of self-preservation. Our time, attention, and energy aren’t endless. If we let our enemies wear us down to the point that we can’t enjoy the good stuff in life, they win. Making room for joy isn’t just defiance; it’s how we keep ourselves fueled for whatever lies ahead. As poet, writer, and activist Audre Lorde so powerfully stated, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence; it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

We stand on the shoulders of our leaders before us—pioneers like Bayard Rustin, Harvey Milk, and Audra Lourde—who showed us the power of fighting while living authentically and joyfully. These leaders didn’t just advocate for our rights; they lived as their true selves, embracing joy in the face of struggle. This is the legacy we carry forward. Our resilience isn’t just in our ability to endure but in our ability to thrive.

As we process the weight of this election, let’s hold onto our joy as fiercely as we do our fight. This joy is resilient; it’s the heart of who we are as a community. Living fully and authentically honors our past, protects our present, and affirms our future. Our joy is not a side note—it’s who we are. It’s our strength and our unbreakable response to those who would deny us. The resilience of queer joy is our power, our pride, and our promise to each other.