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On June 25, 2013, the Supreme Court decided Shelby County v. Holder, a ruling that severely weakened the Voting Rights Act by disabling the federal preclearance protection that helped stop discriminatory voting changes before they could harm Black and brown communities. More recently, on April 29, 2026, the Supreme Court decided Louisiana v. Callais, a ruling that civil rights advocates have described as another significant weakening of the Voting Rights Act because of its impact on Section 2 and the ability to challenge voting maps that dilute Black political power.


For many Black and brown people, these decisions are not distant legal events. They touch memory, family history, community survival, and the understanding that rights once fought for with blood, prayer, organizing, and sacrifice can still be narrowed by powerful institutions. That kind of moment does not stay outside the home. It comes home with us. It sits at the dinner table. It follows us into sleep. It shows up in our patience, our silence, our worry, our bodies, and sometimes in the way we love each other.


This is why relationships matter so much right now. A relationship cannot undo a court ruling or carry the full weight of a nation’s failure to protect human dignity. Yet a healthy relationship can become a place where people remember they are not carrying that weight alone. It can become a place where fear does not have to be hidden, grief does not have to be explained away, and strength does not have to mean pretending not to be tired.


One of the most important things couples can do in this moment is give each other permission to feel the full weight of what is happening. That may sound simple, but many Black and brown people come from families and communities where survival required emotional discipline. We learned how to keep going. We learned how to function while carrying pain. We learned how to make dinner, go to work, raise children, serve in church, masque or temple, answer emails, attend meetings, and still keep one eye on the news because history has taught us that the ground under our feet can shift quickly.

So the first practice of support is emotional permission. Ask your partner what this moment is bringing up for them. Do not assume that because you love someone, you already know what they are carrying. One partner may feel angry. Another may feel numb. One may want to talk through every detail. Another may need quiet before they can find words. One may be thinking about ancestors. Another may be thinking about children. One may be feeling the spiritual exhaustion of watching rights be debated as if their humanity is theoretical.


This is where love becomes listening. Not fixing. Not minimizing. Not rushing toward hope before the hurt has had room to breathe. Just listening.


Research supports the importance of emotional responsiveness in close relationships. John Gottman’s work has long emphasized that strong relationships are built through small, repeated moments of turning toward one another rather than away. Sue Johnson’s work in emotionally focused therapy also points to the deep human need for secure connection, especially when people feel threatened, vulnerable, or alone. In moments of social stress, couples do not always need perfect words. They need to know, “Are you here with me? Do you see what this is doing to me? Will you stay close while I try to make sense of it?”


The second practice is protecting each other from isolation. Social pain becomes heavier when it is carried alone. When rights are weakened, when public language becomes hostile, and when institutions fail to protect communities, many Black and brown people begin to manage a constant inner calculation. Is this place safe? Is this conversation safe? Is my workplace safe? Are our children safe? Is my body safe? Is my voice safe? That kind of vigilance takes a toll.


Couples can support each other by making the home a place where vigilance can soften. This does not mean ignoring what is happening. It means creating rituals of grounding. Pray together. Breathe together. Take walks together. Cook together. Read together. Turn off the news together when your nervous systems need rest. Sit in silence together without making the silence feel like distance. Some days, the support may be a deep conversation. Other days, it may be picking up dinner, rubbing your partner’s shoulders, taking the kids outside, or saying, “You do not have to be strong with me tonight.”


That sentence alone can be medicine.


The third practice is deciding together how much of the outside world gets to enter your home. In moments of political and racial harm, couples can become overwhelmed by constant information. There is value in staying informed, but there is also danger in becoming consumed. Constant exposure to harmful rhetoric can keep the body in a state of alarm. Doomscrolling can make people feel engaged while leaving them depleted.


Couples may need to have an honest conversation about boundaries. How much news are we watching? When are we putting our phones down? What topics should we avoid right before bed? What do we want our children to hear from us first, before they hear it from the world? What spaces are feeding our courage, and what spaces are feeding our fear?


This is what I call stewardship. We are allowed to protect our peace while remaining committed to justice. We are allowed to rest without abandoning the struggle. We are allowed to laugh, love, worship, dance, create, and enjoy beauty even when the world feels heavy. Joy has always been part of our resistance and part of our healing.


For mixed-race couples, this moment may require another layer of tenderness and honesty. When one partner is Black or brown, and the other does not carry that same racialized experience, love must be willing to learn. The partner who is not directly targeted by these harms may not immediately understand why a court ruling feels personal, why a headline changes the mood in the room, or why their partner suddenly seems distant, angry, exhausted, or afraid. The temptation may be to reassure too quickly, debate the details, ask for more explanation, or say something like, “I am sure it will be okay.”


That kind of response may be well-intended, but it can leave the harmed partner feeling even more alone.

In mixed-race relationships, support often begins with believing your partner’s reality without requiring them to prove the pain. If your partner says, “This scares me,” the first response should not be analysis. It should be presence. “I believe you.” “I am listening.” “I am sorry you have to carry this.” “What do you need from me right now?” “How can I stand with you in a way that feels supportive rather than performative?”


The partner who is not experiencing the direct racial harm also has work to do outside of the relationship. Do not make your partner your only teacher. Read. Listen. Learn the history. Understand why voting rights, policing, housing, education, healthcare, employment, and bodily safety are connected in the lived experience of many Black and brown communities. Pay attention to what your family members, coworkers, faith community, and friends say when these issues come up. Be willing to interrupt harm in rooms where your partner is not present. Support is not only what you say in private. Support is also what you are willing to challenge in public.


There is a sacred responsibility in loving someone whose rights are being stripped, questioned, or threatened. That responsibility is not about guilt. It is about covenant. It is about saying, “Your dignity is not a debate in this relationship. Your fear will not be dismissed here. Your history will not be minimized here. Your people will not be reduced to politics here. I am with you in the work of protecting life, truth, and love.”


For the partner who is Black or brown in a mixed-race relationship, it is also fair to name what kind of support feels helpful and what kind does not. Your partner may not know what to do at first. That does not mean you have to carry their learning for them, but clear language can help the relationship grow. You might say, “I do not need you to fix this. I need you to sit with me.” Or, “When you move too quickly to reassurance, I feel alone.” Or, “I need you to learn more about this without making me explain everything.” Or, “I need to know that you will speak up when people around you minimize what is happening.”


These are trust-building conversations. They are also dignity-preserving conversations.

The deeper question for all couples is this: How do we become safer for each other when the world feels less safe around us?


That question may be one of the most important relationship questions of our time. Because when public systems fail to protect dignity, private love has to become more intentional. We need homes where people can exhale. We need partners who know how to listen without defensiveness. We need relationships that make room for grief and action, tenderness and truth, rest and responsibility.


This moment is heavy. For many Black and brown families, it carries echoes of things our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents knew too well. It reminds us that progress has never been automatic and that rights have never been maintained without vigilance. Yet even here, love still has work to do. I mean the kind of love that bears witness, makes room, tells the truth, and helps us keep our humanity intact.


So if you are in a relationship right now, start there. Ask your partner how they are carrying this moment. Ask what they need. Ask what feels heavy. Ask what would help them feel safe, seen, and held. Then listen long enough for the real answer to come.


Because in times like these, support is most often about the kind of refuge we become.


Reflection Questions for Couples

  • What is this moment bringing up in your body, your memory, your family history, or your spirit?

  • Where do you need more tenderness from me right now?

  • What kind of support feels helpful, and what kind of support feels dismissive?

  • How much news and social media exposure is healthy for us right now?

  • What do we want our home to feel like in a time when the world feels heavy?

  • How can we stay committed to justice without sacrificing our rest, joy, or connection?


Resource

Ok…On Second Thought Coaching: For individuals, couples, and leaders seeking coaching around empathy, communication, relationships, leadership, and human-centered growth.onsecondthoughtstudios.com


Sources

Gottman, J. M., & Levenson, R. W. (2000). The timing of divorce: Predicting when a couple will divorce over a 14-year period. Journal of Marriage and Family, 62(3), 737–745.

Johnson, S. M. (2004). The practice of emotionally focused couple therapy: Creating connection. Brunner-Routledge.

Pietromonaco, P. R., & Overall, N. C. (2021). Applying relationship science to evaluate how the COVID-19 pandemic may impact couples’ relationships. American Psychologist, 76(3), 438–450.


Eddy Paul Thomas

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