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They Call Us Terrorists

  • kelseywaits
  • Jan 8
  • 3 min read

Updated: Jan 9

After Renee Good's murder in Minneapolis yesterday, I struggled to find the words to share with others. A social media post couldn't adequately capture all the thoughts going through my head. So, instead, I chose to write. I wish I knew how to fix the situation American finds itself in. I wish I new how to provide people comfort with my words. But the fact is, I'm struggling to make sense of everything going on. Many days I can't find a life raft for myself, let alone one I can share with others. Still, I will try because we need community now more than ever.



January 7, 2026


They call her a terrorist.

Today a young queer woman, only two years younger than me, was shot in cold blood by federal agents a half an hour from our home. Her crime? That depends on who you ask. The video of the shooting makes it clear that there was no crime. The federal government, on the other hand, says that she was an imminent threat to the lives of their officers. They say that shooting her was necessary because she was a “domestic terrorist.” A local woman, her partner, and her dog. Sitting in a car, observing the actions of ICE agents. When cars needed to pass, she waved them through. When ICE demanded she move her vehicle, she began to drive away. This is when they shot her.


Terrorist. It’s amazing how easily the federal government throws that word around when it suits them, when they can use it to justify heinous acts of violence. Renee wasn’t a terrorist. She was an advocate who selflessly chose to spend her day standing up for others. When I heard news that the person killed was a queer activist, my heart stopped. I didn’t know Renee, but I know so many others like her. Outspoken advocates who spend each and every day fighting to make this world a better place. It could have been any one of them in that car. It could have even been me.


They call me a terrorist.

Last month the Department of Justice wrote a memo to all federal prosecutors and law enforcement agencies. The goal of the memo was to provide instructions on how to more effectively counter domestic terrorism. “Particularly dangerous,” they say, “are those acts committed by violent extremist groups that threaten both citizens’ safety and our country’s ability to self-govern.” They claim that these “terrorists” use the threat of violence to “advance political and social agendas” such as “radical gender ideology.” This phrase has been used by the Trump administration to include any work related to transgender and non-binary communities. Equating transgender advocacy with terrorism is just the latest language this administration is using in their attempt to eradicate transgender people and villainize those of us who support the community. This memo was the first time I had been called a terrorist and I assume it will not be the last.


Terrorist. The word has come to mean anyone who opposes this administration, with a particular emphasis on queer advocates. And terrorism, they’ve told us, must be met with lethal force. Due process be damned. This administration has shown truth is what they make it. They have convinced people to believe what they are told rather than what they see with their own eyes. They will label any of us as terrorists if we stand in their way and they are willing to use lethal force to silence our protestations.


I don’t know how to process what is happening. I want to let the grief wash over me. I want to curl into a ball on my couch and sob until it doesn’t hurt anymore. But I don’t know when or even if it will stop hurting. It’s too much and it feels inescapable. Each day, our country seems to sink lower and lower. I’m beginning to think there is no bottom. I’d ask how we got here, but America was built by inflicting violence upon others. It is our past and our present. I hope that one day it will not be our future. But making that dream a reality will take work and it will require bravery. It will take each and every one of us stepping up to demand better. My body is exhausted. And yet, I don’t have time to rest. I have a child to protect and a government to topple. It’s only been a year… almost. There is so much more work to be done.

 
 
 

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Why Do I Write?

I write to process because at times my brain feels as though it will overflow. I write to make sense of the world and my every day life....

 
 
 

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