Pivoting with Purpose

The Weight of Intersectionality

Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation is on the rise. Disability rights are being ignored or diluted. Equity-focused programs are being defunded, rebranded, or quietly erased. As a white, neurodivergent queer woman raising a Biracial autistic son, and partnered with a Black masculine-presenting lesbian, I feel this from all angles—professionally, politically, and personally. While my family’s experiences are deeply impacted by racism, ableism, and anti-LGBTQ+bias, I move through systems with the benefit of whiteness—and that shapes both how I’m treated and how I’m heard. It’s a truth I carry with me in this work, and one I try to hold with humility and responsibility.

The Erasure of Equity Work

Earlier this year, I abruptly lost our family’s primary source of income when the subcontract I was working under was terminated without warning. The main contract had been canceled by DOGE, and I was notified via an early morning email that my last day was the day prior. No transition, no real explanation. Just a quiet erasure. It felt like yet another casualty in the broader effort to silence equity work and those of us who have committed our lives to it.

That loss didn’t just affect me—it sent shockwaves through everything we were building. It directly stalled momentum for Project Isaiah, the nonprofit I co-founded to center the healing, brilliance, and leadership of Black and neurodivergent youth. At the time, we were deep in our research phase, traveling across the country to meet with students, families, educators, and community programs—gathering stories, building relationships, and listening deeply to those most impacted by educational trauma. When the income disappeared, so did our ability to continue that work in the way we had envisioned. Beyond the professional toll, it shook our family’s financial stability and disrupted the clarity of a vision we had spent years nurturing.The weight of that shift wasn’t just logistical—it was deeply personal.

But none of this is unique to me. If you're a LGBTQ+business owner, educator, or organizer—especially in Iowa—you likely know this pattern all too well. You’ve felt the tension between being asked to show up authentically while knowing that authenticity might cost you.

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Our Work Is Our Survival

For so many of us, there’s no separating personal from professional. The values we build into our work—liberation, justice, care—aren’t marketing strategies. They’re survival. And yet in this political moment, that survival feels increasingly under attack.

So what do we do when the systems designed to exclude us double down?

We pivot. We protect. We reimagine.

Reclaiming Space Through Action

For me, one response came in the form of Wear the Message, a campaign we launched through Shared Existence LLC not just to generate revenue, but to reclaim space. These aren’t just t-shirts. They’re visible reminders that we’re still here, still speaking, still building.

Designs like:

• "The Way Forward Starts with Us"
• "Nothing About Us Without Us"
• We Will Not Be Legislated Out of Existence"
• "Uproot Oppression: Grow Justice"

…aren’t just slogans. They’re survival statements. They’re affirmations we need in a world that constantly tries to erase us and our families.

This work isn’t about branding. It’s about bearing witness.

Because while institutions pull back, community must move forward. While public dollars dry up, we have to find each other in the cracks and corners and keep doing what we’ve always done: build what we need with what we have.

I’m not writing this to sell a product. I’m writing this to name a reality many of us are living—and to remind us that we are not alone in it.

As a white queer woman raising a Biracial child, I understand the weight of walking between worlds—of knowing when to speak and when to step back, when to hold space and when to hold the door open. My partner and I navigate systems that were never built for our family’s survival, and still—we choose each other, and we choose to keep showing up.

So if you’re out there—exhausted, adapting, questioning your place in a climate that seems increasingly hostile—this is for you. You’re not imagining it. The resistance is real. So is the beauty of what we’re building in response.

Let’s keep building.
Let’s keep naming the truth.
Let’s keep showing up, not just for visibility, but for liberation.