Joy Is An Act of Resistance

Horseback riding through the mountains on your honeymoon - sounds romantic right? Well it was actually more meditative than romantic, but let me not jump ahead of myself.

In early March, after two very long years of life happenings, Josh and I finally got married. It was a Winter's day that wasn't too cold and the sun was almost as bright as my smile. The day before the wedding it snowed, and there were still some patches lingering to liven up our bare but beautiful outdoor ceremony. Josh surprised me with a violinist and we both surprised each other by writing haikus for our vows. The day was more than I could've dreamed, and with everything going on in the world I was so honored and blessed that my parents were able share in the celebration.

While it wasn't the wedding we'd originally planned for - a celebration with all of family and friends - it was a day that filled everyone with joy. And then we were off to our COVID-friendly honeymoon. For a few months we'd planned to go horseback riding during the honeymoon. Neither of us had ever been on anything larger than a pony, and I'll admit that I was a bit nervous. But one thing I've learned and tried to put into action in the last two years is a little acronym I created for FEAR - forgetting evil ain't real.

When we arrived to our destination we went for a hike through the mountains on the first day. This was literally something we couldn't do a year ago because 1) I was still recovering from COVID and 2) Josh and I were in separate parts of the country. By the next day, I was brimming with excitement for the horses. Armed with my emergency inhaler, our snacks, waters, and helmets we were ready for this first of many adventures as a married couple. We got a little turned around trying to meet the horse handler, but finally we found her.

And there it was - a huge "Trump 2024: For Brandon" flag flying from the cab of a black pick-up truck. My heart skipped as it has many times when not only this type of flag, but their confederate cousin is seen flying from anywhere. Josh parked the car, looked at me and asked if I wanted to pray. After we prayed we stayed in the car for a few more minutes as I assessed the situation. The owners of the truck and flag consisted of a fat white boy shorter and younger looking than me and two chubby, young white girls. Finally I turned to Josh and said, "let's get out."

We walked over to meet the handler - I had no intention of engaging the group of young people - and I assessed that she bore no ill will towards me or Josh. As I waited for the handler to get all the horses out of the trailer, I gathered more details on the group of young white people we'd be riding with. The boy wore a rainbow colored shirt that said "Hope over all" which I found rather ironic. And the whole group was between 16-18, which also left me with so many questions that are still being unpacked.

But then I met Bob - the chestnut brown horse that I would come to ride - and that's when I decided enough. Here I was on my honeymoon full of joy and excitement about our future, getting ready to embark upon something I'd never done before. I wasn't going to let anything - not these Trump supporters, not the war in Ukraine, not COVID - steal my joy anymore. We went on the 2-hour ride in beautiful weather through Oak groves and across streams. We posed for pictures on the mountain summit and learned about the wildflowers and berries springing up around us. I learned how to let go and trust the majestic horse I was riding, and gained an even greater respect for all forms of life.

Doing the work of Truth is extremely hard, and often as truth-tellers we forget to replenish. We forget, in the words of poet and Cave Canem co-founder Toi Dericotte, that joy is an act of resistance. So to all you truth-tellers out there, I want to encourage us to keep resisting, keep finding and fighting for your joy. No one can take it away from you!