Hello, Indianapolis.

My name is Sassy Pants, and I’m not here to be quiet.

I’m here to stir the waters.
To speak truth.
To make some Good Trouble — the kind that John Lewis taught us.

He said:

“If not us, then who? If not now, then when?”

That’s why I’m here.
That’s why we’re all here.

Who am I??

I’m the daughter of gay fathers.
The mother of a transgender child. The granddaughter of deaf grandparents, the niece of a beautiful aunt who was down syndrome.
A medical worker who’s held hands through hospice, through heartbreak — someone who knows how to carry life with care and with courage.

This past Sunday, I stood outside Sure Foundation Baptist Church, where a so-called pastor called for the execution of LGBTQ+ people.

He called for the stoning of “adulterers” and anyone who’s had an abortion.

That’s not faith.
That’s fear in a robe, reading from a script of hate.

And that night, I said goodbye — for the final time — to a lifelong friend. Not at her last breath, but close enough to feel it coming.

Rage to grief in one day.

That kind of emotional whiplash tears through your soul.
It reminds you:

> Life is sacred. Life is short.
And too many of our so-called “leaders” treat it like it’s disposable.

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Trump is in the White House, or on the golf course (take your pick) and the cruelty has grown sharper, louder, more brazen.

Micah Beckwith, our Lieutenant Governor, seems obsessed with drag shows and trans kids.

Sir — it’s 2025.
If you need to come out, just do it.
You’ll be met with love.

But weaponizing religion to punch down?
That’s not holy. That’s a mask for cowardice.

Governor Braun sits in silence from his taxpayer-funded fortress in Jasper, while hate festers in our streets and floods through our neighborhoods.

And while the Big Beautiful Bill has passed — on paper — the real work is just beginning.

Because paper doesn’t protect people.
We do.

So let’s talk about what Good Trouble actually looks like.

It looks like:

Hugging a stranger outside a hate-filled church

Rainbow Sidewalk chalk that says “You Belong”

Handing banned books to queer kids who need to see themselves

Protest signs taped inside your car window

Hosting a banned book club in your living room

Testifying at school board meetings even when your voice shakes

Calling out bigotry at the family dinner table or to a close friend.

Helping someone register to vote who was told they couldn’t

Painting kindness rocks and hiding them in public spaces

Carrying pads or tampons to hand out at shelters

Telling your child:

“There is nothing wrong with you.
There is everything wrong with the people trying to erase you.”

And sometimes, Good Trouble is just showing up —
even when your grief is still fresh,
even when you’re exhausted,
even when you feel like one candle in a storm.

To the trans kids of Indiana:

You are not a problem to be fixed.
You are not a phase to be outgrown.
You are a miracle — stubborn, beautiful, brave.

To anyone who’s been told they’re too much —
Too Black, too Brown, too queer, too disabled, too loud, too soft, too anything:

You are exactly what this moment demands.

As John Lewis said:

“You are a light. Never let anyone — any person or any force — dampen, dim, or diminish your light.”

So let them hear us —
From this street to the Statehouse to D.C.:

That light still burns.
We still rise.
And Good Trouble lives on.

If you’re grieving — I see you.
If you’re angry — you’re right to be.
If you’re tired — rest, then come with us.

Because Good Trouble lives on in:

Our voices
Our books
Our marches
And our relentless, radical love

Go make some Good Trouble.

Thank you.