Rogue Activism, Tiny Victories

The world feels bleak, and I’m just one person with a body-battery that doesn’t even operate at full-strength, but all light is precious in the darkness.

Thank you to everyone who signed up for a new annual subscription during my member drive in May! I gained FIFTY NEW YEARLY SUBSCRIBERS, a number beyond even my wild imagination! I am so grateful to y’all for your continued support of my writing. It means everything to me.

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One of my life's trickiest conundrums is that I really, really, really want to consistently help people, to be a relentless advocate and activist — but also, I have an energy-limiting chronic illness that keeps my body's battery hovering around 20%, and nothing drains it faster than being around people. I used to suck it up and deal with the fallout from people-ing, but Long COVID has changed that fallout from "I need a nap and some quiet time this weekend" to "I literally cannot lift my head or get out of bed." With Long COVID, I hardly have enough juice to make it through a regular day, so I have to guard my minimal energy like a dragon with her treasure horde. But! For me, I'm not actually living my one wild and precious life the way I’m devoted to living it, unless I'm actively working to make the world a better place.

Pretty much everyone I know has been feeling especially helpless lately. I understand. I would have LOVED to be at the protests this weekend, to be surrounded by thousands of like-hearted people demanding justice at the top of my lungs, to use my body to add to our number and show fascists that they should be afraid of us, and to show those being attacked by fascists that they're not alone.

I can't do that kind of thing anymore — but that doesn't mean I can't do anything. I've started thinking of myself as an activist rogue. I slip in through the shadows, do what helpful thing I can, then I'm gone again! Like I was never there! That way, I can stay un-crashed inside my little energy box and I can also do something good!

Here's how I've been doing my rogue work this summer. It gives me hope to do these things, to see that I am only one small piece of something that SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE are doing. I was thinking maybe seeing these little things might give you some ideas, and maybe ease your own feelings of helplessness too.

Food + Clothes

My local food pantry, Astoria Food Pantry, is the raddest place in the neighborhood. It's grassroots mutual aid, plus they do classes and game nights and yoga and bike repair and all kinds of amazing things. They also require masks. There's a sign on the door that says "Stop! Do not enter without a mask!" Once a month, they accept clothing donations for the current season. In May, I went through my closet and Stacy went through her sneakerhead collection, and I was able to donate three boxes of good stuff. The food pantry is always needing reusable grocery bags, and I'm always having them, so that's a super easy way to help too.

Books, Books, Books

On Monday evenings, the Astoria Rolling Library opens up for browsing. All their books are free! They come from donations! And sometimes they have free book fairs, which they post about on Instagram. The library put out a call in mid-May, pre-Pride, that they needed LGBTQ+ books. I filled up an entire WAGON full of queer books to donate. I did realize afterward that I'd left a lot of very rude notes about one of my old bosses in the margins of one of those books. I, um, hope whoever picks it up isn't super well-versed in lesbian media discourse. 😳

I saw yesterday that Bluestockings Cooperative Bookstore is having a summer book drive! You can donate to at their store in Manhattan, or at the Astoria Food Pantry. (Bluestockings is “a collectively-run activist center, community space and feminist bookstore that offers mutual aid, harm reduction support, non-judgemental resource research and a warming/cooling place that is radically inclusive of all genders, cultures, expansive sexualities and identities.”)

There are also two Little Free Libraries near my house, and I keep those stocked up with as much queer stuff as possible.

I love this quote from Percival Everett that Austin Kleon shared in his newsletter recently: “Reading really is subversive because no one can see what is going into you. They can look over your shoulder and see all the words you see, but they will never know what they mean to you.”

Zines + Masks

I've been doing a deep dive on queer zine history this year. I'll write more about it later. I've discovered so much incredible stuff. Lately, I've found this zine about how to protest safely, from Alex Graudins, really useful. I printed out a bunch of them, folded them up, and dropped them off at places all over my neighborhood that would let me, like Astoria Bookshop. Every place that let me leave zines also let me leave free individually wrapped KN95 masks. It made me think of myself as a warrior's apprentice, helping folks who were heading out to battle suit up for the journey!

Dollars

I can't afford too many monetary donations, but there are two places that really have my heart that I give to when I can. One is the Queer Liberation Library and one is Friends of Bear Cat Rescue. They both do such vital work for causes that are so important to me, and they need any donations, big or small, to help them keep making the world a better place. I give to individual folks when I can, too, and hopefully one day I'll be in the place, financially, that I can set up recurring donations! I know from experience that every dollar really does count when it comes to non-profit work, so if you have a few bucks to spare, maybe you could donate to a cause that's important to you. You can share your favorites in the comments!

Drinks + Snacks

Every summer, I maintain a small cooler of drinks and snacks for anyone near my porch who is hungry or thirsty. It originally started out as a way to share extra Gatorades with delivery drivers and postal workers, but now, it's a known thing, and lots of people make it a point to swing by and grab a little something on hot days. This summer, I added water and little Cokes to the Gatorades, and also full-size candy bars — because damn man things are hard, have a Reese's, you know? It's not "activism," really, but it is intentional kindness, and I think that's more important than ever.

Contacting My Representatives (No, For Real)

Since I started working as the part-time engagement editor at The Sick Times, I have witnessed two separate occasions where advocates were immediately able to stop harmful governing in its tracks and force it to turn around and go in the other direction.

One was just last month, when Betsy Ladyzhets reported that Minnesota Republicans were set to defund the state's unique and essential Long COVID program. #MEAction’s Minnesota chapter led advocates in pushing back by writing letters and calling their reps. Because of that advocacy, Republican cuts to the Long COVID program did not make it into the 2026-2027 budget!

The second happened earlier this spring. On Thursday, March 27, Miles Griffis and Betsy Ladyzhets reported that Long COVID pathobiology grants within the NIH RECOVER program were canceled by a federal order. THE NEXT DAY those grants were restored: "Long COVID advocates stepped up to contact their representatives and advocate for RECOVER funding and other federal Long COVID initiatives to remain in place. While the research program’s broader future remains uncertain, these restored grants are a significant milestone, said RECOVER patient representative Megan Fitzgerald."

Sometimes "contact your representatives" can feel like something people say to indicate that, like, sure your house is burning down, but maybe some of the stuff inside will be okay? But that’s not the case at all. It doesn't always work to write and call and demand that the government employees who work for you actually listen to you, but sometimes it really does.

I've been thinking a lot lately about a piece Violet Affleck wrote in the Yale Global Health Review. It's called "A Chronically Ill Earth: COVID Organizing as a Model Climate Response in Los Angeles" and it is seriously worth your time. Here's the last paragraph (emphasis mine):

Climate disasters cannot be prevented or mitigated as easily as airborne disease transmission. But the experience of chronic illness is relevant here, too: many pwME [people with myalgic encephalomyelitis] reject the framework of total “recovery” as irrelevant to their day-to-day lives, preferring instead to celebrate the life-changing benefits of even tiny improvements. Adopting a pacing strategy towards the climate crisis then means not only celebrating every potential catastrophe we avoid but also embracing the ways in which each one could have been worse. In the same way that COVID-conscious and disabled people celebrate each chain of transmission broken, climate scientists recognize that each degree of warming we avoid will be a victory. It’s time for everyone who cares about the latter to engage with the people, the methods, and the political commitments that make the former possible.

When I think about my own advocacy and activism in that context, with my very own body as the place where those claims play out, I could not agree more. Tiny improvements matter! Every degree of warming we avoid will be a victory! Every piece of harmful legislation we halt or overturn, every bit of funding we get restored, those things are real wins! And so yes, really: I do call my representatives.

The world feels bleak, and I’m just one person with a body-battery that doesn’t even operate at full-strength, but all light is precious in the darkness.