Sarah Pinsker

Toward Better Futures

I am a science fiction writer. I can name planets. I can invent futures. I can sound the warning bells, in the best traditions of the genre.

I'm a singer-songwriter, raised in folk and punk. I know the power of three chords and the truth.

I'm also a person living in this moment, a moment when hope has crumbled into terror and anger and hatred and disgust. A moment where the party that has been handed the reins is full of individuals who say "my heart goes out to you" but mean "I will work toward your extinction while expressing love."

I'm a queer person whose life was directly made better by the Obama administration. I'm a woman watching the government reshape itself into a hammer to put me in my place. I'm a Jew witnessing the things I was promised "never again" come to pass. I'm an aunt grateful that my niece lives in Canada. I'm a person with healthcare through the ACA, holding my breath as my ability to afford insurance is put in the hands of ghouls wearing human faces.

I have friends who are Muslims and people of color and people with disabilities and friends who embody every letter of the LGBTQIA acronym and more, and friends who live at intersections of some or all of the above, who are all watching the same events through different lenses, with similar fears.

I can't separate the fiction and the fact. Maybe sometime soon I'll find a way. I'm a science fiction writer for better tomorrows, for grand tomorrows, for any tomorrows, living in a present that only promises a bleak one.

So today I'll edit my near-future novel. Today I'll call my congressional reps again. I'll work on a new story. I'll find ways to make my voice heard. I'll retweet to amplify other voices. Saturday I'll go to the March.

And tomorrow? Here's the plan:

Pick up a friend who is coming into town for the March.

Set my DVR to record BBC America's Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon, because it's a better vision of humanity than the one showing on all the network and news channels at that time.

Set a reminder to unfollow the POTUS and FLOTUS feeds at noon.

Turn on Ava Duvernay's amazing documentary "13th" so Netflix can count me.

Go play with my friend's two year old.

Tomorrow I'm not posting or retweeting anything to do with the day's festivities other than perhaps acts of protest.

Tomorrow starting at 11:30 AM EST I'm filling my feeds with works I love: fiction, music, art, acts of resistance. Join me, if you'd like. Let's blot out the hate and pettiness with #WorksILove

And then let's get back to working on better futures, fiction and fact.

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