Why We Fight

 

By Jack Yordy

When COVID hit, I needed friendship and community more than ever. I sought these in the only safe place at the time, online, and I found it. I met people through playing games and common interests, and we formed our own little diverse queer community, my first LGBTQ+ friends. In 2022, when we were all vaccinated and ready to return to life outside of isolation, my online friends and I met in Chicago, and there they became my real friends. (For their privacy, I’ve changed their names.) 

Last weekend, I went to see them for the fifth time. I was picked up from the airport by James. He’s not very politically-oriented, but every time we get together we go to the bar and talk politics. I always look forward to those chats. He’s from California originally, and he used to enjoy hearing about the ridiculousness that goes on in red states. Last year he moved to Florida with his boyfriend, and he confided in me over a drink, “Man, it kind of feels like we’re always under attack now.”

On the second day, when everyone had arrived, we all went to the pool together. Corey was excited to go. He’s transgender and is self conscious about his body, but he’s also one of the bravest and most badass people I’ve known. He doesn’t like to embrace people he doesn’t know well, but he always says to me, “Alright, bring it in buddy!” He gives the best hugs. 

On Monday, I said my goodbyes in one of our hotel rooms. I walked out the door toward the elevators, and Sam yelled through the door, “Jack, no.” He ran down the hall and nearly tackled me. Half jokingly, he said, “Don’t leave, bro! When will I get to see you again?” Sam is the most carefree, hilarious, playful dude you’ll ever meet, but if you asked him what he wants to do with his life, he’d tell you he wants to raise kids with his future husband and spend time with his family and friends. I held onto him for a few extra moments before I had to go. 

On the flight home, I thought about what I’d do when I returned to school and work. I remembered the election. I remembered Project 2025, the rise of the far right, and the hateful, genocidal rhetoric being thrown at trans people. I remembered what James said about feeling unsafe and attacked. I remembered that Corey, who needs to take testosterone for the rest of his life, lives in a state where gender-affirming care for adults is at risk of being banned. I remembered Sam’s gentleness. The sadness I felt from leaving them dissipated into determination. 

That weekend was not just a fun vacation with friends. For me, it was a reminder of just how important the work I’m doing is, how important this election is. It’s the difference between enjoying my time with my friends and helping them prepare escape plans in case things go bad, putting together lists of essentials and making sure there’s somewhere for them to stay in a nearby blue state. It’s the difference between worrying about what games we’re going to play next week and worrying that they can’t get the healthcare they need. It’s the difference between missing them because I love them and missing them because they’re dead.

In Donald Trump’s America we are not welcome. James can’t feel safe with his boyfriend in their new home. Corey can’t get the life-saving healthcare he needs. Sam can’t have the life he wants. That’s why I fight. I want to feel safe, I want to be safe, I want to live happily, and I want that for my friends too. Fight with us. 

Jack Yordy is deputy operations director for the Watauga County Democratic Party and president of the AppState College Democrats.