The world is burning. And I still yearn for love."

I know that sounds ridiculous. I know that sounds naive. I know that sounds like I'm not paying attention to what's happening around me.

But it's the truth.

The country is at war because of racism. We have the president we have because of racism. On May 13, 2026, Georgia Governor Brian Kemp announced that he is calling a special legislative session to redraw the state's congressional maps, erasing Black political power in real time. The Supreme Court just gutted Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act. Black women are losing their jobs at unprecedented rates. History is repeating itself.

And in the midst of all of this, in the midst of the crisis, in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the collapse, I still yearn for love.

I yearn for someone to choose me. I yearn for someone to see me, not just as "The General," not just as the PhD candidate, not just as the political organizer, but as Hilerie. The woman who is tired. The woman who is lonely. The woman who is carrying the weight of the world and still showing up every single day.

And for a long time, I thought that made me weak.

But then I realized: The yearning is not separate from the resistance. The yearning IS the resistance.

Because when you yearn for love in a world that is designed to make you unlovable, when you yearn for partnership in a world that tells you that you're "too much," when you yearn for someone to choose you in a world that tells you that you should be grateful for crumbs, that yearning is an act of refusal.

You are refusing to let the crisis destroy your capacity to love. You are refusing to let the world make you hard. You are refusing to let the Sacrificial Bargain steal your softness.

And that is revolutionary.