Since the election of 2016, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to draw lines of separation between the issues I care about in the world; the avenues and activities I’ve wanted to pursue through work; and the threat that Trump’s continued political presence—and the wave of extremism and hate dovetailing with his rise and influence—poses to all of these.

I’m not, by first nature, a creature of politics. I’m not even, by first nature, especially socially-oriented. I’m a natural-born introvert: an inward-turning, head-in-the-sand, arts-and-humanities-loving type, tip to toe.

But living over half a century as a member of a racial minority in America; having a natural sense of justice, or a feel for what is unjust and unfair; and harboring a general dislike of bullies and coercers will eventually compel you to engage with the world and force you to contend with political realities. And sometimes circumstance and the historical moment you find yourself in calls upon you to get swept into its fray. This seems to be where I am.

I’ve always lived with a tacit understanding of what can happen to minority groups in times of political instability. From day one of Trump’s appearance on the political stage, that danger felt palpable to me.

I was still working in fashion at the time—a field I’d been drawn to out of artistic and aesthetic inclinations. But I was already eager to make a transition to work that would better align with my ethical concerns. I had long come to realize that fashion is largely a business and—at least in my experience of it—an often soulless corporate enterprise. On top of this, I’d come to understand how enormously polluting and environmentally destructive it was (and is) as an industry. As the climate crisis grew exponentially more urgent, it was hard to reconcile remaining in it, unless I could somehow contribute to positive change, toward helping steer it in a more sustainable direction.

Then a layoff and a global pandemic ensued…

I have since found myself doing work more consistent with my ethical and social justice concerns—primarily using my writing skills to advance greater equality and address the problems of bias and inequality in organizations. But the five-alarm political fire continues to sound. And another year of make-or-break consequence looms ahead. In 2020, we dodged a bullet (I believe). But the bullet only ricocheted and now has come roaring back. So again, it seems, we, as citizens and civic participants, have no choice but to assemble in phalanx formation; to try to shield ourselves and guard our future against this ongoing threat.

I don’t have children, but it’s hard not to want to do what I can to defend the vulnerable, the helpless, and the innocent against forces clearly bent on power as an end, and the use of lawless disregard and even violence as a means to achieve it.

At this tipping point in American and global life, working to protect democracy feels like the fight of my lifetime. I’m eager to lock arms with like-minded people, so that together we can steer this ship we’re on toward calmer, brighter waters.