by: Rev. Derek
Angry, sad, frustrated, confused, shocked—yet completely unsurprised. As a student of history, I understand humanity’s recurring attraction to authoritarian leaders. But as a Black, queer, progressive Christian pastor, I once held onto the hope that people were better than their insecurities. I wanted to believe (actually I NEEDED to believe) that witnessing events like the insurrection at the Capitol, the inhumane kidnapping of children from their families, and the vulgar and violent rhetoric against women, the poor, and immigrants would lead to meaningful change.  

I’m heartbroken that this hope wasn’t realized. As someone who loves this planet, I can’t fathom how any person with basic understanding could deny the climate catastrophe we’re experiencing. Yet here we are. Today, high school boys film themselves taunting their female classmates with phrases like “Your body—my choice” and post these videos online. My trans siblings are terrified, unsure if they’ll be able to safely receive the healthcare they need to live as their authentic selves. LGBTQ+ couples are rushing to marry and sign legal documents, desperately trying to protect their love from the rising hate. 

I wonder what this all means for the church. Many on the left blame the church for the spread of hate, but the congregations that support such fascism are not like the church I serve. Our church flies rainbow, trans, and Pan-African flags on our building. Every year, we display yard signs naming all God’s beloved trans children who died from fatal violence in the United States. Our small congregation fights tirelessly for the oppressed and marginalized, even as we struggle with an old building, limited resources, and the financial strain that often has me donating my own salary back to the church.

And yet, some on the left call to tax all churches, lumping us in with conservative mega-churches. We’re already barely scraping by—any additional financial burdens could force us to close our doors. These broad indictments disproportionately harm small, resource-strapped congregations like ours. There is still a crucial need for what churches like mine provide: a loving, justice-driven community where people can find belonging and support. Unfortunately, the opposition to the Church often stems from the actions of those who blindly follow a wannabe fascist dictator, casting a shadow over all faith communities. These frustrations can feel overwhelming, but they also fuel my resolve. My anger drives my unwavering determination to resist this hate.

“This is precisely the time when artists go to work—not when everything is fine, but in times of dread. That’s our job!” — Toni Morrison. I live by this. I’m creating, writing, organizing, and working to supply the movement with tools, resources, art, and sermons. I invite you, dear reader (in my best Lady Whistledown voice!), to join me. Use your gifts, talents, and platforms to resist. Share your thoughts and ideas with me. What’s inspiring you? How are you preparing to stand strong against the hate? Let’s encourage each other and keep the fight alive.

I created Vibrant Voices: Coloring the Stories of Black Visionaries as part of my resistance work—a way to get stories of resilience, creativity, and history into the hands of those who are fighting for justice. Vibrant Voices is a 136-page premium coloring book that celebrates 62 influential Black figures and events, with hand-drawn images and stories that uplift and inspire. In a time when diversity, equity, and inclusion are under threat, this book serves as a vital resource for families, educators, and communities dedicated to truth and celebration. It features both well-known and unsung heroes, including LGBTQ+ figures, to empower people of all ages to learn and be inspired.
Please visit DerekTerry.com for more information and to order.  Also, please feel free to share it with those who believe in the power of inclusive history. Together, we can use our gifts to resist, to uplift, and to keep the fight alive.