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I have been carrying this past weekend in my heart.

On Friday, the current President shared a video portraying a formal Black president and his wife as apes. That image did not come out of nowhere. It drew from a long and brutal history of portraying Black people as less than human, as something to mock, diminish, and discard.

On Saturday, we marked National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day. A day that exists because Black communities, especially Black LGBTQ+ people, continue to live with disproportionate HIV diagnoses, barriers to care, and the weight of stigma that still shapes who receives compassion and who is left behind.

On Sunday, millions watched Bad Bunny take the Super Bowl stage. But the backlash began well before he ever sang a note. Before the performance, critics complained that a Puerto Rican artist singing in Spanish did not represent America. An alternative broadcast was promoted as “All American,” as if language, culture, and identity determine who belongs and who does not. As if Spanish is foreign. As if Puerto Rico is not part of this country. As if a gender expansive Latinx man (Bad Bunny is a Puerto Rican artist whose gender expression and rejection of machismo challenge dominant ideas of masculinity) must translate himself to be worthy of the stage. Bad Bunny refused to do that.

He sang almost entirely in Spanish. He brought Puerto Rican culture to the center of the most watched event in the country. He did not apologize. He did not soften himself to make others comfortable. And in doing so, he told the truth with his whole body.

These moments are connected.

They are all rooted in the same question that keeps surfacing in moments of power and policy. Who gets to fully belong. Who gets to dream without fear. Who is protected by the law. Who receives justice when harm is done.

Black people are still treated as suspect and expendable. People living with HIV are still stigmatized and dismissed. Immigrants and Latinx communities are still framed as threats rather than neighbors. Queer and trans people are still treated as problems to be managed instead of lives to be protected.

This does not stay symbolic.

This logic shows up in budgets and policies. It shows up when HIV prevention programs are cut and research is disrupted. It shows up when clinics close and care becomes harder to reach. It shows up in immigration enforcement, detention, and family separation. It shows up when some lives are protected and others are treated as collateral damage.

Dehumanization and exclusion always leave real people paying the price.

National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day reminds us that disparities do not happen by accident. They are the predictable outcome of systems that decide who matters. When prevention is disrupted and stigma is allowed to thrive, people suffer. When care is delayed or denied, people die.

And still, in the middle of all of this, Bad Bunny stood on that stage and embodied something else entirely. Joy as resistance. Culture as truth. Visibility as refusal. A reminder that dignity does not need permission.

The Open and Affirming movement exists for moments exactly like this.

We were never meant to be symbolic only. We exist to build brave spaces of affirmation and to advocate far beyond our walls. In our sanctuaries, yes, but also in our neighborhoods, our healthcare systems, our schools, and our public policies. We are called to resist dehumanization wherever it shows up and to insist, again and again, that people are worthy of care, safety, and joy.

That means confronting stigma from the pulpit. Normalizing HIV testing and care. Sharing PrEP and treatment resources openly. Standing with immigrants and asylum seekers. Challenging policies that harm Black, Brown, queer, poor, and disabled communities. Showing up when silence would be easier.

This moment requires moral clarity and moral courage.

We cannot separate racism from health inequity.

We cannot separate culture from belonging.

We cannot separate policy from the bodies it harms.

We cannot claim to be affirming and stay quiet when people are treated as less deserving of protection and justice.

As we continue this work together, I want to offer a gentle invitation. If you are able, consider making a financial contribution to support the ongoing work of the Open and Affirming Coalition (Click here to Donate Now). Your support helps us equip churches, advocate for justice, and create resources that affirm life, dignity, and belonging for those society and those in power would rather forget.

And we would love to hear from you.

Tell us how you are showing up in this moment. Tell us what your church or community is doing to affirm life, resist harm, and build belonging. You can email us at office@openandaffirming.org.

Prayer

God of life,
You call every body beloved
and every people worthy of care.

Hold Black, Brown, and Latinx communities
facing racism and exclusion.
Hold those living with HIV,
and those burdened by stigma instead of support.
Hold immigrants and all pushed to the margins,
treated as threats rather than neighbors.

Give us courage when silence is easier.
Move our faith beyond words
into protection, justice, and love that shows up.

Amen.

With resolve and hope,

Rev. Derek A. Terry
Acting Executive Director
Open and Affirming Coalition of the United Church of Christ