Hey you,

Ooooooooof. I know I’m not alone in still feeling the weight of the American election results. There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that follows, the kind that comes not just from processing what’s happened but from seeing so clearly what’s ahead. Right now, I’m back at the Farm for a few days before I head out on my last round of trips for the year, and it’s here, in the quiet, that I’ve been able to lean into something that feels like hibernation. Not to escape, exactly, but to re-anchor myself—to reconnect with the here and now, to remind myself of what’s worth fighting for.

And if there’s one thing that’s struck me lately, it’s the sheer number of ruptures, splitting open everywhere we look. Ruptures between men and women, between communities, between the stories we tell ourselves and the realities that surround us. There are these widening gaps between the worlds we inhabit and the world we’re striving to create. We’re moving into a future shaped by forces so large they’re hard to even fully comprehend—climate collapse, the growing control of billionaires over the structures of our lives, the erosion of bodily autonomy, rising racial anxieties, the seismic changes of AI to how we work and live. These aren’t just policy debates or ideological battles; they’re fundamental questions about what kind of society we’re trying to build, and what we’re willing to resist.

And that’s why I’m taking this time to ground myself—because I think we’ll need every ounce of resilience we can find. This is a moment to pause, to reconnect with each other and with our motivations. To rally our communities, strengthen our resolve, and find clarity in our roles as artists, writers, community builders, healers, warriors, and beyond. This moment asks something of all of us. It calls for every piece of creativity, courage, and imagination we have to offer.

It’s going to be bumpy. But I believe in our collective strength. I believe in our capacity to navigate these ruptures and, if we’re bold enough, to heal them.

Rupture #1: What the American Elections Tell Us About Changing Global Narratives

It’s hard to shake the feeling that we’re standing at a pivot point, and the recent American elections brought that into sharper focus. Bill McKibben, a voice of clarity on climate and global justice, recently shared his take on what Trump’s win signifies: the end of the "New Deal" era—the cooperative, globally minded American ideology that emerged post-World War II, under FDR’s watchful eye, as the world clawed its way back from catastrophe. He writes:

It feels almost inevitable, like something that’s been brewing just under the surface. Earlier this year, I wrote about The Fourth Turning Is Here and Neil Howe’s predictions for the decades to come. If you’re familiar with his work, you might find the election results less surprising, or at least less shocking in light of Howe’s framework. According to Howe, we’re entering a new “fourth turning”—a period of upheaval that mirrors the final years leading up to World War II. In his view, the post-war “first turning,” defined by the cooperative ideals of the New Deal, is winding down right on schedule.

But while it may seem heavy, this is just one chapter in a cyclical narrative. And honestly? Some of the old structures may need to crumble to make room for what comes next. (Thank you Aaron H. for sharing!)

I’m reminded of a dispatch I shared recently about using astrology—purely metaphorically—to capture the emotional intensity of this moment. (It was one of my favorite pieces of the year; if you missed it, you might find it fun to revisit.) In this view, Pluto’s recent shifts symbolize our current transition. Pluto, the archetype of deep transformation, moved from Capricorn (aligned with industry and capitalism) to Aquarius (a house of rebellion, community, and breakthrough). Although it returned briefly to Capricorn this fall, Pluto will re-enter Aquarius on November 19 and stay there until 2043—the same timeframe Howe suggests for the duration of this fourth turning.

Is there something in that? I DON’T KNOW.

I don’t believe astrology predicts the future, but sometimes these mythological frameworks can be oddly comforting, offering a way to make sense of our tiny place in an immense and indifferent cosmos.

So, where does that leave us with the New Deal era—the one that gave us the UN, NATO, a globally cooperative order? Right now, all that feels precarious, and this election makes it feel even more so. Trump’s proposed foreign policy is starkly different, suggesting an end to aid for Ukraine (essentially giving Putin free reign), a withdrawal from NATO, reduced UN funding, and a retreat from the Paris Climate Accords. It’s a vision of a self-contained world that ignores the complex ways we’re all connected. Because, truly, how can we expect stability in grocery prices when crops are failing, jobs are disappearing to automation, human rights are under threat, and wars disrupt the supply chains we depend on?

Amidst the noise, both McKibben and Howe offer us a reason to hope. Despite the upheaval, this is a moment to think about the world we want to create and to start building it now. The question—and perhaps a recurring theme for this newsletter—is how do we each show up? How do we keep our sanity, our purpose, our hope? These are questions I’m asking myself daily, and I look forward to sharing whatever clarity I find along the way.

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Rupture #2: 4B Movement Lands in the U.S. (With a Very American Twist)

While the economy dominated the conversation this election, there was another issue simmering beneath the surface: women’s rights, particularly access to reproductive healthcare. For those inclined to minimize what’s coming, Project 2025 serves as a sobering reality check—an entire policy agenda crafted specifically for a second Trump administration. At its heart lies a deeply ingrained cultural rift, a breakdown in how we relate to each other on the most essential level.

If you’ve been reading along with me for a while, this won’t come as a surprise. Back in February 2023, we discussed the growing disconnect between men and women, exploring topics like the phenomenon of “Happy Single Women and Lonely Single Men.” Since then, we’ve touched on the rise of Trad Wives, the “miserable cat lady” rhetoric, and the “Just Divorce Him” trend on TikTok. We’ve even delved into the Manosphere, Andrew Tate (gross), and the disturbing spread of incel culture. In other words, we’ve been watching this gender rift unfold together.

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Now, we’re hitting another cultural milestone with the 4B movement—a wave that began in South Korea in 2019, challenging the ways women relate to men. And it’s just made landfall in the U.S.

For those unfamiliar, 4B (bi meaning “no” in Korean) is a radical approach to decentering men, with four core principles:

• No having sex with men
• No going on dates with men
• No having children with men
• No getting married to men

As Anna Louie Sussman explains in her piece for The Cut, women in the 4B movement aren’t interested in fighting patriarchy head-on; instead, they’re walking away from it entirely. And in the past six months, this movement has even evolved into “7B,” expanding with new principles:

• Support other women in practicing 4B
• Refuse to pay the “Pink Tax” or buy from companies promoting misogynistic beauty standards
• Do no emotional labor for men

It’s a lot to take in, but in the current climate, maybe not surprising.

Given the election’s outcome, it feels almost inevitable that 4B would go mainstream in the U.S., albeit with a distinctly American twist. Here, 4B has intertwined with 2A—the Second Amendment, or the right to bear arms—becoming “2A/4B” across social media. Women are now being encouraged to consider armed self-protection, to redefine how they engage with a society that seems ever more committed to eroding their autonomy. (Just to be clear, please don’t email me on this—I respect a woman’s right to choose, and while I honor religious beliefs, I won’t ever support the imposition of those beliefs on others. Full stop.)

The post-election atmosphere has only intensified these sentiments. One of the most viral tweets came from far-right anti-semitic, disgusting bag of garbage is the shape of a human being, Nick Fuentes, proclaiming, “Your body, My choice—Forever.”

As of this writing, it’s been viewed over 90 million times, with 35,000 reshares, 50,000 likes, and 12,000 saves. For those that insist he's just a provocateur: The Institute for Strategic Dialogue reported a 4,600% spike in phrases like “your body, my choice” and “get back in the kitchen” across social media, and we’re seeing a worrying rise in searches for the repeal of the 19th Amendment (the right to vote for women).

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Comment sections for women creators are now inundated with this rhetoric, and in real life, young men have reportedly said “your body, my choice” to female classmates and even anonymously texted it to students.

It’s against this backdrop that some women are choosing to resist in one of the few ways left to them: by opting out of interactions with men altogether. And with governments around the world already panicking over declining birth rates, the ripple effects will be something to watch.

If you’ve followed this newsletter for a while, you know that the anger building here isn’t a shock. Marriage and relationships have often benefited men disproportionately, with women shouldering the mental load, domestic labor, and childcare—even when they’re the primary earners. Economic independence has given women options they never had before, yet the shift seems threatening to some men, particularly those clinging to traditional roles. Enter the Trump/Tate “alpha” rhetoric that convinces a certain segment of men that they’re entitled to this setup, framing women’s independence as a personal attack.

This tension is only going to escalate as restrictive policies tighten and more women suffer consequences from being denied necessary care.

I should add that while this is written in broad strokes, I don’t believe it applies to all men—obviously not, since I’m happily married to one myself! (And he's the best).

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Rupture #3: TikTok’s Growing Divide: Creators, Authors, and the Politics of BookTok

In the world of BookTok, an ideological split is widening, and it’s no longer just about genres or favorite ships. With the recent elections, a rift has emerged between creators and authors who supported Trump and those who didn’t. And, as with everything on TikTok, the divide is both amplified and scrutinized through a social media lens. Some argue that BookTok should be a space dedicated solely to books, free from politics. Others insist that everything—books included—is inherently political and that we can’t separate the stories we consume from the values they reflect.

For some creators who openly shared their decision to vote for Trump, the fallout has been unexpected. They’re finding themselves blocked by other users who no longer want to engage. But to me, politics is everything. The privilege required to treat politics as separate from daily experience speaks volumes. Everything around us—food prices, wages, the availability of products, environmental protections (or lack thereof)—is shaped by political choices.

This divide on BookTok isn’t just about political leanings; it’s layered. First, there’s the act of reading and publishing—who gets access, what books are available, and how censorship limits these choices. Then, there’s the matter of the authors themselves. TikTok users are circulating lists of writers to block based on their political views, exercising their consumer power to support authors who align with their values. And then, of course, there are the books themselves.

Take Sarah J. Maas, for example. Her novels, from the ACOTAR series to Throne of Glass to Crescent City, have become BookTok phenomena, selling millions upon millions of copies. These books don’t shy away from themes of rebellion and resistance. We see characters who defy authority, who risk their lives to challenge corrupt systems, who protect the vulnerable in the face of overwhelming odds. And yet somehow, this fierce opposition to oppression is being ignored—or worse, misread—by those who claim to be fans. To overlook the links between these themes and real-world social issues suggests a certain willful ignorance, or maybe they’re only reading it for the “fairy smut.” Ironically, Project 2025 could soon be coming for those scenes, too. This very alarming read, explains in detail what this will mean for readers, writers, and libraries. As reading itself becomes a fraught activity, with book bans spreading across the U.S. and Project 2025 discussing the potential outlawing of stories that don’t align with specific “American values," it’s hard to imagine any reader or writer emerging from this unscathed.

It’s like watching Star Wars and rooting for Luke while voting for Darth Vader. Or aspiring to be Katniss Everdeen while supporting President Snow’s policies on, let’s say, “cheap gas.” Or celebrating Harry Potter and then endorsing the Ministry of Magic’s anti-muggle legislation. The cognitive dissonance is staggering, and yet, I can’t say I’m shocked that these creators are surprised to face backlash.

This divide on TikTok reflects a much larger trend I’m seeing across friendships, marriages, even family relationships rupturing over political choices. We’re at a point where our values are being tested in ways that leave no space for ambiguity. And I think what’s emerging from this is a redefined understanding of community. Because in a world where politics shape nearly every part of our lives, the stories we read, the creators we support, and the values we hold become signals of who we are, what we stand for, and, ultimately, what kind of future we’re willing to build.

A Final Note - Don't Lose Hope

As I wrap up this newsletter, I keep coming back to the weight of this moment we’re all living in. Politics, culture, our relationships—none of it exists in isolation. Each thread connects and overlaps, forming a web that both binds us and sometimes pulls us apart. And right now, it feels like we’re collectively standing at a crossroads, asked to consider not just who we are but what we value, what we’ll fight for, and, ultimately, what kind of world we want to build.

For me, the questions we’ve explored today—about ruptures in our communities, the intersection of politics and storytelling, the power of cultural movements—are reminders of the agency we each hold. Even the smallest choices, like the stories we consume and the people we engage with, carry meaning. It’s all political, because we live in a world where nothing is truly untouched by the systems and values around us.

And yet, within all this intensity, there’s also the opportunity to create something new. Maybe it’s through small acts of connection, thoughtful conversations, or simply bearing witness to the experiences of others. The choices we make don’t have to be grand gestures—they can be as simple as deciding who and what we support, even in spaces that might feel removed from “real” politics.

So, thank you for being here with me, for caring about these ideas and exploring them with curiosity and openness. As we navigate what’s next, I hope this space continues to offer a place for reflection, for connection, and maybe even a bit of clarity as we each find our way. Until next time—stay grounded, stay engaged, and let’s keep weaving these threads of understanding together.