This year, extremely powerful people with terrible intentions did everything they could to break our spirits (and yet!)

My favorite thing about 2025 was us, and how we didn't take the bait

I’ve been thinking about that sermon that Bishop Marianne Budde gave for Trump’s second inauguration in January. The mercy sermon. I watched it on headphones at a corner bar near my house. It was so cold that day, at least where I live. A polar vortex had recently settled over the Upper Midwest. If you’re not familiar with a polar vortex, it’s basically an unwelcome burst of bluster and bitterness that sucks all the hope out of a landscape. I hate it when the metaphors are that hack and obvious.

Today, Milwaukee is cold again. And I am not declaring preemptive victory, because so many things are still not good. Everything is expensive and so many of the helpers are stretched thin. The gun thugs that have terrorized so many places that I love are still at it. I’m getting messages from friends in Minneapolis and New Orleans that sound like the messages I got a couple months ago from friends in Chicago and Los Angeles and North Carolina. In a few months, I may be sending those messages.

I don’t want to downplay the pain of 2025. We didn’t all make it. I can’t stop thinking about the news report I heard about how, every year this century, fewer and fewer kids died across the world. Until now. This year, there were more dead kids than in 2024. Don’t let anybody, least all me, tell you a story of unfettered triumph when that’s the case.

That is all very much true, and it is also true that December, 2025 feels meaningfully different from January, 2025, in ways that truly weren’t inevitable. Here’s what I wrote that night, as I. sat at the mostly empty bar at Falcon Bowl and tried to parse why I was so heartened by a single sermon.

Here, as far as I see it, is the current state of affairs. A cadre of profoundly craven men would like you to not bother standing in their way. They want you to believe that one of the narrowest popular vote victories in American history is a mandate. They want you to believe that the vast majority of Americans— across all demographic groups— woke up on the morning of November 6th with an unquenchable desire to yell slurs, terrorize trans people and toss parents and children in separate ICE trucks. They want you to believe all the stories about how the left is deflated now, about how there will be no meaningful protests, that we of the bleeding hearts are retroactively embarrassed by our public displays of earnestness back in 2017 and 2020. They want you to believe that God is either on their side or, at the very least, is too overwhelmed to notice. God’s all about self-care now, they say. Let the moneychangers have the temple. Let them fill it with novelty bitcoin.

It’s so easy to forget the overwhelming sentiment, back in January, that the Trump administration was somehow too powerful to be resisted. Do you remember their clumsy Blitzkrieg? All the ways they tried to break us? The parade of tech bros at the inauguration, the flurry of trolly Executive Orders, the kid named Big Balls being given the power to essentially unplug the Federal government. Everywhere you looked, Marc Andreessen was just puttering around, smirking about how it was morning in America again. Elon Musk had a chainsaw for some reason. Corporations and universities tripped over themselves to eliminate diversity programs and to further punish Gaza protestors. We all shared that Timothy Snyder quote about not complying in advance while America’s most august institutions acted like their copy of On Tyranny didn’t include the first word.

If you were left-of-center, this past January, you were told that you were basically a dinosaur. The world had moved past you, and it was your fault. Because you were too woke. Or because you attended the Women’s March in 2017. Or because you didn’t plan a Women’s March in 2025. Because of the r-word, and how you disapproved of it. Or the police, and how you defunded them, singlehandedly, with your Instagram posts. You did that, and you also caused fascism, you wokester, because you dared to challenge the sanctity of America’s core institution… which is, um, girls high school athletics? Was that the argument?It was all very confusing, but rest assured, one way or another you caused this.

It sounds like I’m exaggerating. But I’m not! We actually lived through this, in this calendar year no less. The magazine covers really did look like this.

And the op-eds looked like this.

And this…

And this…

So no, damnit. I’m not making it up. It was rough. And thank goodness for Bishop Budde, because she did deliver a heck of a sermon, but the ecstatic response she engendered from people like me only further exemplifies the hopelessness of that moment. We really did wonder if anybody would stand up to the bullies and the cretins. Not even a mass of people, just anybody. Even a single mild-mannered Episcopalian lady.

It’s a year later. And again, the authoritarians haven’t been kicked to the curb, but neither can they pretend to be masters of the universe. Even the most dupable media outlets have had admit that not only does the Emperor have no clothes, he might not even be awake. Trump grows less and less popular by the day. Those chicken-hearted corporations that jettisoned diversity initiatives? They’re changing course, again. Increasingly, even the MAGA lackeys in the Republican Party are beginning to balk when their leader tells them to jump. Every time there’s another mass protest, the crowds are bigger than the last. Every election night, more and more bricks fall from what was supposed to be a newly impenetrable MAGA wall. Every time ICE tries to terrorize another city, neighbors show up to stop them.

We are in the season of “best of” lists. I’m not immune to their charms. I watched some decent movies and listened to some wonderful songs and read some nice books in 2025. I will remember all of them fondly.

But when I remember what was truly best in 2025, it’s no contest. It will be you all. And by that, I mean both the immediate “you all” who read this newsletter and patiently participate in our various community experiments: soup and pie suppers and anti-Musk sticker bombings and food shelf fundraisers and neighborhood group chats. But also, I mean a nation of you alls whom I will likely never meet. I mean millions of teenagers and great grandparents and everybody in between who were told that, this time around, there was no point in resisting, but who did so anyway.

This was a year of millions in the streets, of Congressional phone lines overwhelmed, of thousands of doors knocked, of righteous anger not just at MAGA cruelty but Democratic triangulation. It was the year of anti-ICE whistle brigades and clergy braving tear gas at detention facilities. It was the year of an election in New York that didn’t just deliver a young Muslim Socialist to Gracie Mansion, but introduced tens of thousands of New Yorkers to each other. It was the year that, across the country, people started saying yes to community and no to thuggery and hucksters (to ICE, for instance, but also to data centers and to MAGA’s attempt to canonize Charlie Kirk).

It is not enough, yet. I know who still holds the reins of power, both in Washington, Silicon Valley and Wall Street. I know that they have hurt so many, and that they will do their damndest to hurt so many more. But I also know that, this January, you were told it was pointless to care. And you did it anyway. Quite a lot, actually. And because so many people did so many things, the strongmen have been revealed to not be that strong after all.

In 2025, we could have given in, but we didn’t. We surprised ourselves. And we are not done. But if you’re going to stoically intone about how far we have to go, you also have to celebrate how far we’ve come. I’m proud of us, you all. And I wish we didn’t have to weather this year, but I’m so grateful we did it together.

This year, we didn’t give up. Next year, we build. Through it all, we love.

End notes:

1. In case you didn’t know that this was the most open hearted newsletter community around, last week I made a little pitch that anybody in the Milwaukee area could stop by our Quaker Meeting’s gift shop to hang out with me and the Quaker teens as we served soup in the basement, and not only did local Milwaukee readers show up, but a lovely reader drove up from Chicago (and also brought me a beer!). There were a lot of moments like that, in 2025 (do you know that I get a new email basically every day with somebody telling me about the potlucks they host?) It’s true! I really do thank you all every day, friends. I’m so lucky to be connected to you all.

2. Want even more evidence that this is a lovely community? Last week’s discussion (where we wrote each other three sentence holiday cards) was just immensely cool and life affirming. Thanks to all who participated.

3. No new Barnraisers trainings in December (but oh goodness, stay tuned for some exciting news in 2026), but here’s something even cooler. One of the wisest people I know, Kelly Harris Perin invited me to join her for a conversation about building community in the workplace. TODAY, 1:00 PM Eastern Time (on Zoom). Registration here!

4. OK, repeat announcement (with a cool addition). One downside of doing this as a career (otherwise, it’s the best, truly) is that it only works if I ask for your support. Yes, I do believe that the work of The White Pages and Barnraisers is valuable, and I truly wouldn’t be able to offer the free essays, coaching and trainings without your help. But also, I know that money is tight and there are a lot of worthy places to spread it around, so here’s my holiday offer.

   1. I’ve got some neat merch, both old and new (do you like that potlucks design up above? it’s on a shirt now, see below AND UPDATED THIS WEEK: ALSO A POSTER!). I’m happy to send something, either to you or a loved one as a gift.

   2. If you’re interested, here’s all you have to do:

      1. If you’re not already a paid subscriber, now’s your chance!

      2. Alternately, if you’re already a paid subscriber (or if you aren’t, but want somebody else in your life to get all the White Pages bonuses), choose a gift subscription for a friend or family member.

      3. If you’re feeling really generous, choose a founding subscription (the “pledge drive” level, which during this holiday season entitles you to two pieces of merch).

      4. After you do so, email me ( garrett at barnraisersproject.org) with a “merch please” request, noting if you chose a new or upgraded subscription for yourself or a gift subscription for a pal. I’ll then send you a form to request a hat, tote, poster, or two different shirt designs, with an option to either send to yourself or your friend/relative [note that the newest potlucks shirt may not arrive in time for Christmas/Hanukkah, but the others will].

      5. As you all know, I frequently do raffles and giveaways for existing paid subscribers: more of those coming soon, I promise. For now, given volume, this is just for new/upgraded/gift subscriptions. Thanks for understanding.

      6. Why so much merch these days? It’s been fun to make, I like having a tangible thank you to give out, and I think it helps spread the word.

      7. The new shirts look like this. The posters also look like this, but just the back image (and you know, not on a shirt).