Love is Resistance

Lately, it feels like living in the U. S. comes with a constant undercurrent of fear.

Fear about the future. Fear about safety. Fear about rights, belonging, stability, and whether the people around us see our humanity or see us as a problem to be solved. Every time we open our phones or turn on the news, there’s another headline, another fight, another reminder that our country feels deeply divided.

And if we’re being honest, a lot of us are tired. Scared. Overwhelmed. Angry.

Something is wrong when entire communities feel targeted or unsafe simply for existing. Something is wrong when compassion is treated as weakness and cruelty is dismissed as honesty. Something is wrong when we forget that the people we argue about online are real people trying to survive, raise families, find joy, and feel safe.

What’s happening in our world right now is heavy and wrong. We must say it out loud.

In moments like this, love becomes an act of resistance.

Not the fluffy, feel-good version of love. I’m talking about intentional love. Protective love. Love that shows up when it’s inconvenient. Love that refuses to let fear turn us against each other.

When systems are broken, community is what keeps people alive.

Check on your neighbors. Stand up for people being targeted. Offer support when someone is scared. Speak up when someone is being dehumanized. Make space for people who don’t feel safe anywhere else.

Love is not passive. It requires action. And action starts with awareness.

It is so easy to move through life focused only on what directly affects us. We scroll past headlines. We assume someone else understands the policies, the laws, the risks people are facing. We tell ourselves we’re too busy or that politics are exhausting or that we just want peace.

But loving others means caring enough to learn what they are going through.

It means educating yourself about what is happening in your country and in your own community. Understanding policies that affect your neighbors. Learning about the experiences of people whose lives look different than yours. Listening when people tell you they are scared instead of dismissing their fear because you personally feel safe.

Love asks us to be informed.

For me, that means taking steps to be someone who can actually help when situations go wrong. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be taking a class focused on knowing your rights, recognizing threats, de-escalating conflict, and navigating dangerous situations in public spaces.

I’m not doing it because I walk through life afraid for my own safety. The truth is, I recognize my privilege in this country. I can leave my house, go to work, and run errands without fear that my identity alone will make me a target.

Not everyone has that same peace.

I want to learn how to show up for the people around me. I want to know rights well enough to help others understand theirs. I want to be able to recognize when situations are escalating and help calm them instead of making them worse. I want to be someone who can step in, support, and advocate if a neighbor finds themselves in danger or being treated unjustly.

Loving your neighbor isn’t just practicing kindness. Sometimes it’s protection. Sometimes it’s using your safety to help create safety for someone else.

Many of us carry privileges we don’t always notice. Maybe it’s safety in public spaces. Maybe it’s economic stability. Maybe it’s citizenship, housing security, healthcare access, or simply not having to wonder whether you belong in a room.

Privilege isn’t something to feel ashamed of, it is something to recognize. And once we see it, we have a choice: ignore it, or use it.

Use your voice when others are being talked over. Step in when someone is being mistreated. Support policies and organizations protecting vulnerable communities. Donate when you can. Show up when it matters. And sometimes, simply listen to people whose experiences are different from your own.

Loving your neighbor doesn’t require perfection. It requires effort.

And here’s the truth: most acts of love are small.

Smiling at someone who looks like they’re carrying the weight of the world. Checking in on a friend who’s been quiet. Making space at your table. Offering help without expecting anything back. Teaching your kids empathy. Choosing curiosity instead of judgment.

It is so easy to move through life thinking, Someone else will handle it. But communities don’t get stronger by accident. They get stronger because individuals choose to care.

So here’s my challenge to us all:

Slow down this week. Look around. Ask yourself:

Who around me feels unsafe right now?
Who feels unheard?
Who feels alone?
And what can I do to change that?

Love doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. But it does have to be intentional.

We cannot control everything happening in our country or our world, but we can control how we treat each other. We can choose kindness over cruelty. Protection over silence. Community over isolation.

And maybe, just maybe, if enough of us decide to love our neighbors a little harder, we start to build the kind of world we actually want to live in.

A world where fewer people are afraid.

A world where more people feel seen.

A world where love shows up — especially when it’s hardest.

So love your neighbor.

Not because it’s easy.
But because right now, it’s necessary.