Dousing My Heart With Hope for 2026

Has it really only been a year since Donald Trump was re-elected president? It feels more like 50 years — five decades of trauma since the election on November 5, 2024.

The list of traumas: horrific government-sanctioned kidnappings of men, women, and children off city streets, including in our small towns like Northfield; extrajudicial military murders in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific; the gutting of safety net benefits for millions; and so much more.

As for transgender people, I and my community have had our lives made incredibly difficult by Trump and his MAGA sycophants. It started within hours of Trump being sworn in. With the stroke of a pen, he declared that there are two immutable genders: male and female. An effort to officially erase transgender people from the federal lexicon, it signaled that trans folks weren’t real or deserving of legal protection.

 

From there it became bans on youth accessing gender-affirming care and attacks on transgender athletes. More recently, it has been a sinister attempt to designate activists like me as “transgender ideology–induced violent extremists,” so that the FBI could arrest us for simply advocating that trans people have a right to exist.

For me, someone whose work is about spreading a message of compassion and kindness for all, the idea that I might be arrested for speaking out against injustices hurled at my community is incredibly unsettling, to say the least. But despite all the trauma and fear, there is reason for genuine hope.

The “No Kings” rallies show that millions are incensed over the direction Trump is taking America. Additionally, it’s inspiring to see how people have resisted ICE in Los Angeles, Washington D.C., Portland, Chicago, Charlotte, and around Minnesota. These are people who risk arrest and bodily harm to protect their neighbors and colleagues. By the time you read this, undoubtedly there will have been many active resistance efforts.

Where I Derive Personal Hope

As for me — in the time since Trump’s inauguration, I’ve received numerous supportive messages, both from people I know and from others I don’t. Receiving them has boosted my spirits and nourished my soul, helping me to continue what I call my “mission work” of fostering positive social change.

I’ve also received incredible support from congregations and religious leaders. Apart from a few county agencies, colleges, and brave private entities, churches have become the resilient venue for my conversations and workshops.

Excelsior United Methodist Church, for example, hosted me for a discussion of my new book, Being Ellen: A Second Chance at Life. We talked about the challenges trans people face in Trump’s America.

One of the things I shared was how young transgender girls can avoid acquiring a deeply masculine voice like mine through puberty blockers — part of the gender-affirming care that more than half the states have outlawed for transgender youth. I spoke of how my voice has made it difficult for me to be accepted by a romantic partner, and how it puts me at risk of physical harm if I speak in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Many of the nearly 100 audience members had someone in their life who was transgender or LGBTQ+. They asked empathetic questions and made kind comments. As I spoke to one of the attendees afterward, a woman placed a note in my hand. She was tearful and told me that being at that discussion had touched her.

I read the note later. The woman, who didn’t share her name, had written:

When I hear your story, I feel most emotional when you talk about your voice. You advocate for young transgender children to be allowed puberty blockers so they don’t have to be afraid for their safety when their voice doesn’t match their appearance. I feel your deep regret that you are living with this mismatched voice.

I want to tell you that your voice and what you are doing with it are beautiful. I want you to be safe and I hate that you have to fear for your safety simply because you don’t sound like people would expect you to. Thank you for speaking anyway.

The woman’s kind words doused my heart with gallons of hope. That someone would go to the trouble to write such affirming words reinforced that — regardless of how utterly hopeless it may seem for my community or me right now — this is certainly not the time to falter in the mission.

Despite the evil that we are witnessing globally, I continue to believe in the goodness of most humans. What tends to stand in our way is the fear of “other.”

I will continue to do my best to erase that fear. I did briefly consider retiring gracefully and visiting people around the country with my faithful dog on election night 2024. But eradicating fear from the hearts of more people is my remaining life’s mission.

For 2026, I invite you to become better informed about what is happening to communities targeted by the Trump administration. Please stand in solidarity. To be informed, you can subscribe to my newsletter or Substack blog at elliekrug.com. Or follow trans journalists like Erin Reed (erininthemorning.com).

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