What Iowa Taught Me About Hope
Howdy folks! I’ve finally settled back into home after a whirlwind, wonderful adventure around southeast Iowa, and I’m excited to tell you all about it! First, a few quick wins in the world of Good Queer News:
Wisconsin Governor Tony Evers has vetoed 5 anti-trans bills!
The AMA has fully and deeply reaffirmed their support for gender affirming care!
A powerful transmasc athlete trio has placed third in the ironman triathlon this weekend!
Florida had two great special election flips, including the district where trump lives!! For all those keeping score at home, these marked the 29th and 30th seat flips for democrats since 2024. Republicans have flipped 0 seats.
What did I miss? What good news has happened in your community this week?
Iowan Adventures!
As many of you might be aware, one of the central components of my job is that I’m a public speaker. I travel around the country and around the world (next week’s trip is to Lithuania!!) I tell my story, share strategies for allyship, and get to meet fascinating people. Sometimes these efforts take me through a variety of Zoom calls with companies, or quick in-and-out visits for a live event.
Other times, they involve a deeper dive into a certain region or community. Last fall, after a particularly beautiful trip all over the Midwest and North Carolina, I wrote this article, which I learned was quite meaningful to many of the folks that read it.
Often, no matter where I am, the people I talk to describe themselves to me as being in a bubble, feeling that they are isolated in caring in a sea of states or counties or cities or people that are full of hate.
But I’m constantly going outside of that bubble, finding love, and finding people who feel they too are alone. I just returned from a beautiful five day excursion of constant bubble popping all around Southeast Iowa, and I’m eager to tell you about it. The trip was planned and advertised by a wonderful gentleman named Paul, who’s both a new friend and a true friend.
He poured more hours than I can know into marketing and planning these events all over the state, ranging for media interviews, radio appearances, wallpapering flyers with my face in his town and the towns that surrounded it. While I expected the visit to be pretty good, nothing could have prepared me for the ways I felt so deeply and fully wrapped in love over the course of this trip.
The events themselves were wonderful. They were full of trans people and their families and allies. Gatherings of community members, grandparents, many, many pastors, and curious neighbors. There were even a number of courageous folks for whom transgender was a totally new word.
Most of the events were a part of my quest to give a free presentation for every PFLAG chapter in the country. These were numbers 195, 196, and 197. (If you’re with a PFLAG chapter and want to be number 200, email me!!). Unlike some of my more typical PFLAG events, these were also deeper partnerships with many other local organizations.
On Friday night, the local Democratic Party and Indivisible Chapters billed my event as No Kings Eve. On Saturday, we gathered for the 22nd annual “unique and united” conference at a local university that celebrated the wide range of communities and stories represented in Iowa. On the way to one of our events on Sunday, we detoured to do some solidarity honking for a local visibility protest that gathers every single week. Afterwards, many of the ralliers joined us for the talk.
It wasn’t just the events… it was the people
I learned about how the community had been mobilizing against ICE in defense of their immigrant neighbors for well over a year. In Iowa City, we hung out with some local punks who taught us about how much of the organizing in the city happens through the punk scene. There were pride flags and queer folks in all the places we travelled. We talked about how frightened and angry they were about state legislation, and how much they loved their city anyways. How beautiful it is to be able to stay and fight.
Speaking of visibility, in our entire time driving hundreds of miles through the countryside, in total, I believe I saw one single Trump sign. I was surprised and asked my host about it, and he mentioned that a number of them have been coming down over the course of the year, which lines up perfectly with this article I read from Rural Missouri organizer, Jess Piper, a few weeks ago.
Beyond the events themselves, the weekend was a study in rest.
I learned about transcendental meditation, which Fairfield, Iowa, it turns out, is a hotspot for.
I got to meet a brilliant human, poet, organizer, musician, and unbelievable chef named Toussaint St. Negritude, whose van broke down in Des Moines. He, alongside me, was going through a radical shift in understanding what Iowa was all about. When we weren’t at events, myself, my hosts, and our collection of new friends would spend time going for long walks to learn about bird watching or sitting out under the stars with hot tea. At one point, we canceled plans to go out to a bar and instead sat on Paul’s couch wrapped up in blankets and tenderly took turns reading our poetry to one another.
I lost my computer for a couple of days and took that as a cue from the universe that it was time to take a break. It was magnificent. I cross-stitched. I read my book. I walked the land. I had hours long conversations with so many people, exchanging ideas, debating theories, talking ourselves towards the future. What were we each fighting for? What were we afraid of? What were we hopeful about?
All in, this trip was a beautiful reminder of humanity’s goodness in a sea of reminders that I’m so fortunate I get to experience through my work, and that I get to share with you all through my platform here. We are absolutely surrounded by good people. You are not in a bubble. You are surrounded by systems that want you to believe you are alone, by gerrymanderers who want you to believe that certain states are hopeless wastelands, by companies and oligarchs dead set on the divide and conquer strategy of wealth concentration. But the regular people with whom we share this planet, by and large, are good. We cannot be afraid to go out and look for them.
Thank you so much for sharing this wonderful news! Maybe there is hope.
You are awesome, Ben Greene!! What you do is not only amazing and important for the Queer community, especially trans folk, but also amazing and important for our country. Your courage, intelligence, and good nature is the cure for Trumpism, that awful negativity and hate that seems to have so many Americans trapped in fear and ignorance.
Eight years ago I took a similar "trans-country" road trip through the south, visiting historical sites and speaking with fellow teachers, parents, and students about what it's like to be transgender. I also felt it was critical to get out of my bubble and visit places I was told were not safe for a trans woman like myself.
Boy, did I have a grand time! My trip confirmed what I suspected, that most Americans are good people.
Keep up the great work, Ben!