Little Joy Letter #9
Hello, Readers!
Well, I don't know about you, but I wasn't exactly heading into Tuesday's election with an abundance of optimism.
If anything, my expectations were embarrassingly low.
and to be frank, not just low — It was buried somewhere underground, possibly next to a few dinosaur bones.
and not that i was expecting some grand political awakening. I wasn't even necessarily expecting good news. I was mostly just hoping we wouldn't re-elect quite so much of the crazy and gain a little more balance.
And I realize that's not the most eloquent political commentary, but it's where I was, Because the truth is, I've been scared.
Scared by how comfortable we've become with anger. How easily hate seems to spread. How often power appears to matter more than people. And how we've somehow arrived at a place where cruelty can be celebrated as strength, and kindness can be dismissed as weakness.
I don't want to believe that's who we are.
But lately, I've found myself wondering, And I want to be clear about something. I believe in equality. For everyone. Unconditionally.
I don't believe that where you were born, the color of your skin, your gender, your religion, or who you love makes you any more or less deserving of dignity, opportunity, or fundamental human rights. And I find it absolutely maddening that in 2026, we're still having conversations about whether some people deserve the same rights as others.
i mean, Seriously, How are we still here?
I understand that we won't always agree on politics or how to solve the world's problems. But I can respect someone's right to have a different opinion without accepting the idea that some people matter less than others.
That's a line I'm comfortable drawing And maybe that's why I've felt so unsettled lately. I've been watching the world, wondering when we became so comfortable with hate, so accepting of cruelty, and so willing to let power determine whose lives matter.
It's exhausting And quite frankly, it makes me angry.
But then Tuesday happened And much to my surprise, I felt something I hadn't expected.
Joy.
Actual, genuine, slightly bewildered joy.
Which was quickly followed by something else.
Hope.
Not the kind of hope that makes you think everything is suddenly going to be wonderful. I'm not that naive, and frankly, I've been around long enough to know better.
But the kind that reminds you that things aren't necessarily destined to stay the way they are.
That people can surprise you.
That maybe the future isn't already written.
And then, as I started reading more about the election results, I discovered something that made me even happier.
her-story was made! yes, i just punned.
Here in Ohio, Amy Acton became the first woman elected governor. Georgia elected Keisha Lance Bottoms, the first Black woman elected governor in American history. New Mexico elected Deb Haaland, the first Native American woman elected governor of a U.S. state. Minnesota elected Peggy Flanagan, the first Native American woman elected to the U.S. Senate. And New Hampshire elected Chris Pappas, the first openly gay man elected to the Senate.
And those are just a handful of the firsts.
We're also looking at a record number of women serving in Congress next year.
And as I started taking it all in, I found myself smiling.
Like, genuinely smiling while reading election coverage.
Imagine that.
I mean, how freaking incredible is all of this?
and Of course, my brain, never one to let a perfectly lovely moment go uninterrupted, had another thought.
It's about damn time.
Seriously. It's 2026.
How is it that we're STILL celebrating so many firsts?
And yet, I don't want that frustration to take away from the significance of these moments.
Because somewhere, there's a little girl watching these results who has never seen someone who looks like her hold one of these offices.
Someone who has been told, directly or indirectly, that certain places weren't meant for people like her.
And suddenly, there's proof that they are.
I think that's worth celebrating.
And no, I don't believe these milestones mean the work is finished. Representation doesn't automatically equal justice. Being elected doesn't guarantee someone will lead well. And one election doesn't erase generations of inequality.
But it matters.
It matters who gets to sit at the table. Who gets heard. Who gets the opportunity to lead. Who gets to imagine a future that looks different from the past.
Because representation isn't just about who wins an election. It's also about who gets to believe they belong in the room.
And maybe that's the part I've been thinking about most this week.
The power of possibility.
It's funny, because while all of this has been happening, I've been wrapped up in my own little world of creative possibilities.
I've spent a good portion of this week finishing an art commission for the Columbus Symphony, trying to get a holiday collection ready for my website, and contemplating whether I'm finally brave enough to share a chapter of Body Image: A Personal Rage Rant (that’s the memoir I have mentioned before).
I haven't shared any of those chapters publicly yet but i think i might soon.
And while part of me desperately wants to put those words into the world, another part of me is still trying to figure out what it means to allow people into such a vulnerable part of my life.
It's a strange thing, creating something that matters to you and then having to decide whether you're ready to let the rest of the world see it.
And while my little creative adventures aren't remotely comparable to the historical barriers being broken in government, they have reminded me of something.
Sometimes we have to believe that something is possible before we can find the courage to try.
And sometimes, when our own belief is running a little low, we need to see someone else do something extraordinary to remind us.
I don't know what the next few months or years will bring. I don't know whether this week's optimism will last. I certainly don't believe one election fixes everything that's broken.
And I'm not suddenly going to stop being angry about injustice or concerned about the direction of our country.
But I am realizing something — You can be angry about the world as it is and still believe in the world as it could be.
Maybe hope isn't the absence of fear or anger.
Maybe hope is what allows us to keep going in spite of them.
To keep caring. To keep showing up. To keep creating. To keep speaking up when something isn't right.
And to remember that even when the world feels overwhelmingly dark, there are still people working to make it brighter.
I don't want to be so consumed by what frightens me that I miss the things worth celebrating.
And this week, there were things worth celebrating.
Maybe that's the little joy this week.
Not certainty. Not perfection. Not the promise that everything will turn out the way we want.
Just the unexpected reminder that things can change.
That progress is possible.
And that believing in a better world isn't foolish, even when the world gives us plenty of reasons to question it.
So, dear readers, I'm curious:
When was the last time something surprised you by making you feel hopeful?
I'd genuinely love to hear.
Until next week, keep noticing the little joys.
Joy