Midweek Message March 5, 2026

It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed this week.

As thirteen separate pieces of anti-LGBTQIA+ legislation move through review in the Tennessee House and its committees, many of us are carrying a quiet heaviness. The sheer volume alone is exhausting. Each bill feels personal. Each debate feels like it chips away at something fundamental — safety, dignity, the simple right to exist fully and openly.

It’s difficult not to get bogged down in it. (Make your voice heard by writing emails and making calls to your legislators with the TN Equality Project.)

And yet, even in the midst of frustration, anger, and the very real fight for our pursuit of happiness, something else is rising.

This Sunday, hope showed up in harmony.

The 130 voices of Nashville in Harmony gathered for our annual Spring Season kick-off. What could have been just another rehearsal became something much bigger — a reminder of who we are and why we keep showing up for each other.

We were joined by a special guest: Morgxn (pronounced Morgan), an American indie pop singer-songwriter based in Los Angeles but born and raised right here in Nashville. Morgxn came out to himself as queer at 19, and his music has long carried themes of survival, identity, and resilience. His presence felt both like a homecoming and a declaration.

The afternoon was spent at FUUN recording for an upcoming documentary that will feature Morgxn alongside our ensemble. Together, we lent our voices to excerpts from one of his most powerful songs, Make It Out Alive.

There is something almost defiant about singing that title right now.

“Make It Out Alive” is more than a song; it’s a promise. It’s a reminder that survival itself is resistance. As we stood shoulder to shoulder — sopranos, altos, tenors, basses — queer folks, allies, people of every generation — you could feel it: the steady undercurrent of hope.

Outside those rehearsal walls, legislation debates our existence. Inside, we create something undeniable. We harmonize. We breathe together. We build community in real time.

As a member of this ensemble, and as a queer individual, moments like Sunday anchor me. They remind me that while policies may attempt to restrict us, they cannot erase us. They cannot silence 130 voices rising together in song.

Community is not passive. It is active. It gathers. It records. It tells stories. It amplifies queer artists who once sat in Nashville as young people trying to understand themselves. It stands firm in the belief that joy is not frivolous — it is necessary.

There is a particular kind of strength in showing up for one another without hesitation. In choosing to create beauty while the world feels hostile. In refusing to let anger be the only note we carry.

This week may feel heavy. The headlines may feel relentless. But on Sunday afternoon, in a room filled with harmony and courage, hope was louder.

And sometimes, that is enough to keep going.