Pouring Myself Into My Community
An essay written by a young woman who grew up with CPW and was a strong member of our community. She now lives in Nashville Tennessee and has found that community spirit is still a vital part of her life, giving her hope in frightening times.
In defense of my choice to continue living in a fascist state.
I made the decision to move to Nashville in 2023, and some people raised eyebrows about the U.S. but mostly people were excited for me - Nashville, cowboys, country!! And then, in November 2024, Donald Trump was elected as president and those raised eyebrows turned into real questions about what the hell I was thinking by living here. And I get it, I really do. I understand how it looks from the outside and I understand the concern. That night in November, I stayed up with my friends in the wonderful little flat I have made my home, and we watched the results come in and then I held my best friend as she wept. I allowed myself to really feel it, the disbelief and the disappointment and the dread.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt a resolve I wasn’t expecting. Nashville had become my home; I had spent the last year and a half intentionally building community here and pouring myself into that community and I wasn’t about to jump ship now. Partly because, if I am serious when I say that community is important, then I needed to put my money where my mouth is and step up and be there for my community because things were about to get really hard. And partly because I loved my life in Nashville, and I wasn’t ready to leave.
On a macro level, this country is horrifying, obviously. But on a micro level I have never been a part of such a warm, collective and politically engaged community as I am here in Nashville. My life here is full of joy, of good people doing their best and making a real difference, of people who will drop what they are doing to help others. It is hard to hold those two things together, but it is important to hold them together. I say all this because from the outside I understand the raised eyebrows, the questions, the concern but there are really truly good things happening in the USA and it is my privilege to get to be a part of them.
This past weekend was July 4th, and a special July 4th at that - 250 years since the United States gained its independence from Britain - YAY! This is my third 4th of July spent in the United States, and it has always felt complicated to celebrate, especially since I am British.
This year especially, the decision of how to spend July 4th was heavy: I love my friends - and they are all American; I love my life in the U.S; there are things about this country that are truly worth celebrating. But the U.S. government is committing war crimes, and intense human rights violations both abroad and at home. So, it’s complicated (perhaps an understatement). I chose to spend the weekend with the people who have made me fall in love with America, and to celebrate them. I would like to take this time to tell you about the in the hope that you will fall a little bit in love with them too (they really are the best).
July 4th was on a Saturday this year, so the public holiday was pushed to July 3rd and we all got a long weekend to celebrate the red, white and blue. I started my celebrations on Thursday night at my queer line dancing group “Lavender Roots”. Lavender Roots is my most favourite place in Nashville - it was founded by queer people from the south, who wanted to be able to reclaim being southern as something not just synonymous with being conservative. There is a deep tradition of social justice activism in Appalachia (the mountain range that sweeps through Tennessee and the surrounding states) - and that’s what it means to be southern. So, I spent my Thursday night dancing with my wonderful friends, in a space where they are free to be queer and southern and feel loved and appreciated. And then we went for Mexican food in the same restaurant we go to every week - where we know the names of all the wait staff; where they know us and our orders; where we bring them cake on their birthdays; where when we miss a week they ask us where we’ve been and if we’re okay.
On Friday my friends and I went to the lake, we’re landlocked big time in Tennessee so all of our beach needs have to be fulfilled by Percy Priest Lake and the Harpeth River. There I was on the shores of the lake, surrounded by friends, basking in a hammock, reading my book. On Saturday we went to the fancy house with a private pool that one of my friends was house sitting in. I spent the day basking by the pool, drinking root bear and real beer and, yes, reading my book. And then, in the evening we headed to watch the fireworks. I cried as I sat and watched them explode over my home because it really is complicated to love it here, and its heartbreaking to watch the terrible things that happen here and know that it can be different.
I cried because with the 4th July feels like a pretty potent reminder of the worst parts of American nationalism, I had spent the weekend with my wonderful friends feeling loved and loving my home.
My friends the queer community developers who are building Lavender Roots; my friend who has worked in sexual health for over a decade and works tirelessly to ensure everyone has access to contraceptives and reproductive health care (and who is the full reason I was able to get my IUD replaced in December last year); my friend who is working to establish the first housing cooperative in Nashville as a solution for the affordable housing crisis; my friend who is running jail support networks and bail funds to mitigate the impacts of incarceration; my friend who runs a blog which highlights the beautiful things in everyday life; my friends the labour organisers.
I am reminded of a poem by Nikita Gill:
Everything is on fire,
but everyone I love is doing beautiful things
and trying to make life worth living,
and I know I don’t have to believe in everything,
but I believe in that.