Still Here. Still Holy. Still Fighting.

Justin Hurtado
Jun 2
3 min read

Beloved,

I don’t need to tell you what kind of country we’re waking up in. You already know.You feel it in your chest.Your inbox.Your feed.Your body.

If you’re Black, brown, queer, trans, disabled, a woman, an immigrant, loud-mouthed, free-thinking, or faithful in ways that scare the empire—then you’ve been put on notice.

This isn’t politics. It’s persecution dressed up in a flag.

And if you’re scared, angry, or exhausted: you’re not broken. You’re paying attention.

Let’s say that again:

You’re not broken. You’re paying attention.

That ache in your jaw, that tension in your back, that gut-pull grief you can’t name?That’s the cost of being awake in a country where the President’s playbook is fascism.

Where ICE raids aren’t just cruel—they're calculated. This isn’t immigration policy. It’s fascist strategy. This is how regimes start: they find a group to scapegoat, round them up in the middle of the night, and dare the rest of us to stay silent. This is not about borders. It’s about power. It’s about fear. And it’s giving SS—but with a flag and a press secretary.

Where women’s rights have been gutted with joy and no apology.Where pregnancy is a surveillance risk.Where drag queens and teachers are targeted like terrorists.Where churches get told to stay silent or stay scared.

And still—here you are. Reading this.Still breathing. Still showing up.

That matters.

That’s resistance.

That’s holy.

I don’t have a 3-step plan or a Bible verse to make it all okay.And if I did, you’d have every right to cuss me out.

But I do want you to hear me clearly:

You are not alone.

You are not crazy.You are not disposable.And you are not done.

You are the dream of the ancestors.The heartbreak of prophets.The soft hands of the holy.The grit of queer saints and fierce midwives who never had a seat at the table but built their own damn altar anyway.

We are tired.And we are not giving up.

We are afraid.And we are not moving back.

We are angry.And we’re allowed to be.

This country has a long history of trying to silence the Spirit when she shows up in the voices of those it cannot control.But the Spirit?She doesn’t scare easy.She shows up in drag and in protest.In reproductive clinics and pulpits.In bilingual Masses and banned books.In wheelchairs and walkers and picket lines.In the voice of the woman who says no more.In trans girls refusing to disappear.In pastors refusing to lie.

If you’re looking for hope, here’s mine:You’re still here.

We’re still here.

Which means the story isn't over.

And while we breathe, we fight.

Not with the tools of the empire.But with holy rage and chosen family.With fierce love and good trouble.With art and protest and eucharists that center the broken and brave.

What can we do?

Here’s a short list. Print it. Share it. Pick one and start.

Mutual AidSupport local bail funds, housing efforts, abortion access networks, and food banks.Build community funds with your church or spiritual circle.Don’t wait for government permission to care for each other.
Legal DefenseDonate to the ACLU, Southern Poverty Law Center, or local orgs doing real courtroom work.Clergy: learn your rights. They want us afraid to speak. Speak anyway.If you're arrested for protest, know who to call. Build legal support into your plans.
Clergy DefiancePreach the truth. Don’t name the devil politely.Organize with other spiritual leaders—across traditions, across zip codes.Offer sanctuary where you can.Use the tax-exempt pulpit to preach the gospel, not silence. They cannot take our courage.
Safety PlansHave one. For yourself. For your family. For your congregation.Talk about it now—before it’s urgent.Digital privacy. Evac plans. Buddy systems. Underground railroads have never been just history.
Spiritual ResistancePray like fire. Protest like thunder.Light candles for trans kids. Host rituals for reproductive freedom.Anoint each other with oil and with pepper spray in your go-bag.