As a queer person with PTSD, thank you. I’m exhausted.
Mindfulness, meditation, exercise, and community don’t solve the systemic issues, but they do help me bring in balance and remind me what I’m fighting for. The last year I’ve radically accepted my emotional states and stopped judging them, because trying to avoid them to appear strong and okay brought on dangerous burnout and a mental health leave of absence.
These are hard times. I can imagine how much harder it would be to leave my house without the 150lb service dog at my side.
This is really insightful! I think it applies to other communities that are persecuted as well; we heal when we find people who really see, hear and understand us. Healing can't happen when you are constantly being hurt again and again. This is why finding and creating safe spaces is so crucial. Thank you so much!
Beautifully put. Thank you so much for writing this down. There is a place for resilience and rising above. It must be nuanced, though, particularly when it comes to "inverted commas", minority populations.
This really got under my skin—in the best way. As a neurodivergent, queer parent still healing from years of “being strong” and “pushing through,” I feel this in my bones. Resilience was my badge… until it became a burden I couldn’t carry anymore.
I’m learning (slowly) how to reach for softness, for support, for something more sustainable. If anyone else is in this quiet reckoning, I’d love to connect. We weren’t meant to hold all of this alone.
Amazingly helpful. This gives context to my personal experience, and also aids me in supporting clients who are writing through this type of trauma. Thank you for such an informed piece.
I’m glad it offered both personal and professional clarity — that’s the hope. Holding space for this kind of trauma, especially in creative work, is no small task. Thank you for being someone who helps others give voice to it.
This is brilliant. The only thing wrong with being queer is how some people treat you when they find out. But this attitude works so much better with support from other people who understand the constant pressure pushing against your truth. Resilience isn't a place you can live in. Community is.
Than distinction is everything. Community is where the pressure eases, where we can finally exhale. Your words capture both the pain and the power of queer belonging so clearly. 💜
"They presume that the primary obstacles to well-being are internal rather than structural."
I think this plays a larger role than is usually acknowledged. When I was young (during the Apollo program) it was common to hear older people say something to the effect of, 'Well, that's life. You have to learn to deal with it'. Notice the implications in the statement. 1. The problem is a thing that has its own separate, independent existence outside of the person being addressed. 2. The person being addressed is lacking a skill set, not inherently defective.
This seems to have largely disappeared. The older I get, the more it seems to be about the person as if he were living in a vacuum. There's this very quiet, low-key, but deeply entrenched resistance to the idea that the 'problem person' might be responding to external stimuli.
To flip it around, the person exhorting the virtues of 'resilience' disparages or outright denies the existence of external realities the 'problem person' experiences daily. 'Allostatic load'? Good luck getting the resilience fan-boi to even acknowledge such a thing exists.
Hi Anton. That shift from “life is hard” to “you are the problem” has quietly redefined how we frame struggle. And you’re right, it’s insidious. When external conditions are erased, any distress becomes a personal defect. That denial of context — especially around things like allostatic load — is why so many people feel gaslit by the very advice meant to help them.
Thanks. I should mention that I'm looking at this through a very distinct lens. Boring details upon request, but I grew up with a half dozen supposedly psychsomatic issues and have collected a few more since. Fast forward to 2025 and Every. Single. One. of them turned out to have been 100% physical the entire time. As one doc put it, "the only thing psycho going on was with the people trying to gaslight you". So now when someone states I'm the problem but can't explain how or why, that basically confirms for me that I'm NOT the problem.
Yes! I teach LGBTQ health and always teach the students the minority stress model, even if it's just one guest lecture. It is essential to understand why LGBTQ people have worse mental and physical health than our cisgender, heterosexual peers. The stressors of minority status, stigma, and discrimination wear us down. Constant survival mode.
You approach resilience through a therapy lens, while I do so through a public health lens. (I'm not saying either is right or wrong; it is interesting to see how different fields use similar concepts.)
I gave a guest lecture today. In explaining minority stress (Ilan Meyer's model), I said that being a stigmatized minority can also lead to community pride and resilience. Together, those mitigate some of the damage from the stress. Meyer wrote a follow-up paper saying how essential resilience is to the minority stress model.
A student challenged me on resilience and commented on how empty and frustrating the concept of resilience can be. We are applauded for being resilient when resilience comes from struggle, from trauma. I saw a meme a few months back, to paraphrase: Stop congratulating us for being resilient and fix the systemic problems that are forcing us to become resilient in the first place.
We discussed how resilience is so individually focused (like you say). It puts the onus for change, being strong, and coping on the individual, while the problems are structural. I like how there is a turn toward recognizing that things like anxiety and depression are not individual problems, but natural, understandable reactions to problems in society.
Thanks for your essay!
Meyer IH. Resilience in the study of minority stress and health of sexual and gender minorities. Psychology of Sexual Orientation and Gender Diversity. 2015;2(3):209-213. doi:10.1037/sgd0000132
Thanks for this meaningful response. I love that you brought up Meyer’s follow-up paper; it’s a crucial piece that often gets overlooked. Your student’s challenge gets to the heart of it: resilience shouldn’t be romanticized when it’s born from systemic neglect.
Thank you for this. As someone who has worked as an organizer and activist for many years, I deeply appreciate the call for and need for community. A support network is where resilience thrives. Without it, none of us can make it. In these times, especially we have to build and strengthen our communities. They don’t have to be large groups, three or four people can be enough support for some. The key is to not let anyone feel they are alone. Thank you again for recognizing that feeling oppressed is not a personal failing but a systemic attack on who we are.
What you shared about the power of small, intentional circles hits home. Resilience isn’t about being tough in isolation — it’s about being held, seen, and supported by others who get it. Thank you for everything you do to help build those spaces — it matters.
Thanks for a fantastic essay. Makes me think: On a recent trip, my partner and I met and traveled with a small group. During the first day or so of the two-week excursion, I wasn't as comfortable with them as they were with each other at first meeting. And I realized that I was holding back, waiting to see how they would receive my partner and me, how we'd be accepted (or not). Happily, we all got along very well. But, not for the first time in my life (I'm 67) I felt the this sort of breath-holding as a physical and emotional speed bump. I'm used to it now, but I can also see how it infiltrates a lot of my life, this hesitancy and holding back.
That moment of breath-holding you describe is so familiar — and rarely talked about with the depth you gave it here. It’s subtle, but it shapes a lot of how we move through the world. I’m glad this group turned out to be welcoming, but your insight about how that vigilance lingers even after decades is powerful. Thank you for sharing it — it brings the emotional cost of “just being” into focus. 💜
As I reflect on it, the vigilance changes, becoming gratitude, almost, that things went well. That's a feeling straight people don't ever feel, I'd bet. That they would go into a social setting and first feel apprehension, then gratitude at being accepted. All that said, my partner and I don't make any effort to hide or obfuscate our relationship. We just present ourselves and move on. But for me, at least, there's that wait-and-see period.
Yes, that quiet shift from hyper-awareness to relief or gratitude is real, and quite specific to queer experience. It’s the emotional labor of “being” in a world that still doesn’t default to safety for us. I really felt the truth in what you said; it’s a kind of resilience most people never even have to name.
Thanks for calling out yet another way in which our community is invisibilized, Gino. LGBTQIA+ marginalization is a massive form of toxic stress that's inextricable with healing psychological and emotional wounds. It can't simply be set aside as we grit our teeth and muscle through. In our case, it's quite obvious that the socio-political and the personal are the personal. Thanks for validating that here and pointing the way to more effective strategies and also for the work you're doing as a therapist. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🐦🔥
Beautifully said, Keith — the idea that the socio-political is the personal rings so true, especially in queer lives where boundaries between the two are constantly blurred. Thank you for naming that so clearly and fiercely 💜
Thank you, Gino, for this wonderful discussion of the resilience movement. Sometimes, the same old strategies that help many people aren't as effective for the people who need help the most. Happy to have your voice raised up here on Qstack! ❤️🍊💛💚💙💜🩷🩵🤎🖤
That means a lot — thank you! You nailed it: the folks who “need it most” are often the ones left behind by one-size-fits-all advice. It’s why spaces like Qstack matter.
As a queer person with PTSD, thank you. I’m exhausted.
Mindfulness, meditation, exercise, and community don’t solve the systemic issues, but they do help me bring in balance and remind me what I’m fighting for. The last year I’ve radically accepted my emotional states and stopped judging them, because trying to avoid them to appear strong and okay brought on dangerous burnout and a mental health leave of absence.
These are hard times. I can imagine how much harder it would be to leave my house without the 150lb service dog at my side.
Thank you for this.
This is really insightful! I think it applies to other communities that are persecuted as well; we heal when we find people who really see, hear and understand us. Healing can't happen when you are constantly being hurt again and again. This is why finding and creating safe spaces is so crucial. Thank you so much!
Beautifully put. Thank you so much for writing this down. There is a place for resilience and rising above. It must be nuanced, though, particularly when it comes to "inverted commas", minority populations.
Great article. Another place to consider submitting your vital perspectives Gino: http://www.rfdmag.org/submissions.php
"Resilience is the enemy of adaptive change." -'Panarchy'
Thank you so much for this. I needed to hear that I'm not the problem. 🩵
Def not - I felt the same reading this. Thanks Rey. 🩷
This really got under my skin—in the best way. As a neurodivergent, queer parent still healing from years of “being strong” and “pushing through,” I feel this in my bones. Resilience was my badge… until it became a burden I couldn’t carry anymore.
I’m learning (slowly) how to reach for softness, for support, for something more sustainable. If anyone else is in this quiet reckoning, I’d love to connect. We weren’t meant to hold all of this alone.
https://open.substack.com/pub/unrulygrace/p/learning-to-rest-when-rest-doesnt?r=41g22e&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
Amazingly helpful. This gives context to my personal experience, and also aids me in supporting clients who are writing through this type of trauma. Thank you for such an informed piece.
I’m glad it offered both personal and professional clarity — that’s the hope. Holding space for this kind of trauma, especially in creative work, is no small task. Thank you for being someone who helps others give voice to it.
This is brilliant. The only thing wrong with being queer is how some people treat you when they find out. But this attitude works so much better with support from other people who understand the constant pressure pushing against your truth. Resilience isn't a place you can live in. Community is.
Than distinction is everything. Community is where the pressure eases, where we can finally exhale. Your words capture both the pain and the power of queer belonging so clearly. 💜
"They presume that the primary obstacles to well-being are internal rather than structural."
I think this plays a larger role than is usually acknowledged. When I was young (during the Apollo program) it was common to hear older people say something to the effect of, 'Well, that's life. You have to learn to deal with it'. Notice the implications in the statement. 1. The problem is a thing that has its own separate, independent existence outside of the person being addressed. 2. The person being addressed is lacking a skill set, not inherently defective.
This seems to have largely disappeared. The older I get, the more it seems to be about the person as if he were living in a vacuum. There's this very quiet, low-key, but deeply entrenched resistance to the idea that the 'problem person' might be responding to external stimuli.
To flip it around, the person exhorting the virtues of 'resilience' disparages or outright denies the existence of external realities the 'problem person' experiences daily. 'Allostatic load'? Good luck getting the resilience fan-boi to even acknowledge such a thing exists.
Hi Anton. That shift from “life is hard” to “you are the problem” has quietly redefined how we frame struggle. And you’re right, it’s insidious. When external conditions are erased, any distress becomes a personal defect. That denial of context — especially around things like allostatic load — is why so many people feel gaslit by the very advice meant to help them.
Thanks. I should mention that I'm looking at this through a very distinct lens. Boring details upon request, but I grew up with a half dozen supposedly psychsomatic issues and have collected a few more since. Fast forward to 2025 and Every. Single. One. of them turned out to have been 100% physical the entire time. As one doc put it, "the only thing psycho going on was with the people trying to gaslight you". So now when someone states I'm the problem but can't explain how or why, that basically confirms for me that I'm NOT the problem.
Yes! I teach LGBTQ health and always teach the students the minority stress model, even if it's just one guest lecture. It is essential to understand why LGBTQ people have worse mental and physical health than our cisgender, heterosexual peers. The stressors of minority status, stigma, and discrimination wear us down. Constant survival mode.
You approach resilience through a therapy lens, while I do so through a public health lens. (I'm not saying either is right or wrong; it is interesting to see how different fields use similar concepts.)
I gave a guest lecture today. In explaining minority stress (Ilan Meyer's model), I said that being a stigmatized minority can also lead to community pride and resilience. Together, those mitigate some of the damage from the stress. Meyer wrote a follow-up paper saying how essential resilience is to the minority stress model.
A student challenged me on resilience and commented on how empty and frustrating the concept of resilience can be. We are applauded for being resilient when resilience comes from struggle, from trauma. I saw a meme a few months back, to paraphrase: Stop congratulating us for being resilient and fix the systemic problems that are forcing us to become resilient in the first place.
We discussed how resilience is so individually focused (like you say). It puts the onus for change, being strong, and coping on the individual, while the problems are structural. I like how there is a turn toward recognizing that things like anxiety and depression are not individual problems, but natural, understandable reactions to problems in society.
Thanks for your essay!
Meyer IH. Resilience in the study of minority stress and health of sexual and gender minorities. Psychology of Sexual Orientation and Gender Diversity. 2015;2(3):209-213. doi:10.1037/sgd0000132
Thanks for this meaningful response. I love that you brought up Meyer’s follow-up paper; it’s a crucial piece that often gets overlooked. Your student’s challenge gets to the heart of it: resilience shouldn’t be romanticized when it’s born from systemic neglect.
Thank you, Gino, for sharing this important perspective. 💙💜💛🧡🩷🤎🖤♥️
Thank you. It’s heartening to know this perspective resonates and reaches those who get it.
Thank you for this. As someone who has worked as an organizer and activist for many years, I deeply appreciate the call for and need for community. A support network is where resilience thrives. Without it, none of us can make it. In these times, especially we have to build and strengthen our communities. They don’t have to be large groups, three or four people can be enough support for some. The key is to not let anyone feel they are alone. Thank you again for recognizing that feeling oppressed is not a personal failing but a systemic attack on who we are.
What you shared about the power of small, intentional circles hits home. Resilience isn’t about being tough in isolation — it’s about being held, seen, and supported by others who get it. Thank you for everything you do to help build those spaces — it matters.
I totally agree. Find or build a circle of support. You will find more resilience together and be able to be more effective in everything you do.
Thanks for a fantastic essay. Makes me think: On a recent trip, my partner and I met and traveled with a small group. During the first day or so of the two-week excursion, I wasn't as comfortable with them as they were with each other at first meeting. And I realized that I was holding back, waiting to see how they would receive my partner and me, how we'd be accepted (or not). Happily, we all got along very well. But, not for the first time in my life (I'm 67) I felt the this sort of breath-holding as a physical and emotional speed bump. I'm used to it now, but I can also see how it infiltrates a lot of my life, this hesitancy and holding back.
That moment of breath-holding you describe is so familiar — and rarely talked about with the depth you gave it here. It’s subtle, but it shapes a lot of how we move through the world. I’m glad this group turned out to be welcoming, but your insight about how that vigilance lingers even after decades is powerful. Thank you for sharing it — it brings the emotional cost of “just being” into focus. 💜
As I reflect on it, the vigilance changes, becoming gratitude, almost, that things went well. That's a feeling straight people don't ever feel, I'd bet. That they would go into a social setting and first feel apprehension, then gratitude at being accepted. All that said, my partner and I don't make any effort to hide or obfuscate our relationship. We just present ourselves and move on. But for me, at least, there's that wait-and-see period.
Yes, that quiet shift from hyper-awareness to relief or gratitude is real, and quite specific to queer experience. It’s the emotional labor of “being” in a world that still doesn’t default to safety for us. I really felt the truth in what you said; it’s a kind of resilience most people never even have to name.
Thanks for calling out yet another way in which our community is invisibilized, Gino. LGBTQIA+ marginalization is a massive form of toxic stress that's inextricable with healing psychological and emotional wounds. It can't simply be set aside as we grit our teeth and muscle through. In our case, it's quite obvious that the socio-political and the personal are the personal. Thanks for validating that here and pointing the way to more effective strategies and also for the work you're doing as a therapist. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🐦🔥
Beautifully said, Keith — the idea that the socio-political is the personal rings so true, especially in queer lives where boundaries between the two are constantly blurred. Thank you for naming that so clearly and fiercely 💜
Thank you, Gino, for this wonderful discussion of the resilience movement. Sometimes, the same old strategies that help many people aren't as effective for the people who need help the most. Happy to have your voice raised up here on Qstack! ❤️🍊💛💚💙💜🩷🩵🤎🖤
That means a lot — thank you! You nailed it: the folks who “need it most” are often the ones left behind by one-size-fits-all advice. It’s why spaces like Qstack matter.