A Letter to the Tenderqueers and Tenderhearted

Dear ones,

You may be feeling especially tenderhearted these days and in the days to come. Don’t let them make you believe that this is a sign of your weakness. Don’t let them make you believe that your raw edges are make-believe.

Your sensitivities are your superpowers.

It is the tenderhearted that will be the first to know that something is amiss. To be conscious is sometimes to be intimately aware of the great wounding our world is experiencing as it grows and stretches and tries to survive and evolve out of this trauma.

We know it because the feeling is familiar.

We fight (and have been fighting) for our communities, our identities, and our bodily safety. We fight our own nervous systems, asking our bodies to move/function as if our existence isn’t constantly under the threat of extinction.

It is one of the clearest reflections of privilege to feel unshaken by the current state of events.

I’m reminded of activist Mark Aguhar’s poem, “LITANIES TO MY HEAVENLY BROWN BODY,” and how she calls out privilege and oppression, not just from individuals but also in the systemic oppression that exists as a marginalized person.

To exist in a world trying to harm us is an act of resiliency in and of itself. There is strength in just being.

So, dear ones, honor your activation and your raw edges. Know that these tender places are reminders of your profound experiences and your magic. Insight is far greater at the intersections of oppression than at the intersections of privilege because it is here that we learn to see from our hearts.

Trust in your experiences. Take breaks where you need them. Find solace in your communities.

Create soft space for your tender hearts to land.

In tenderness,

Traci