We sprinkle hope like pixie dust on a unicorn. Scatter a few grains of hope across a big pile of worries and just like that — or so we think — magical things happen. Nah. Doesn’t work that way.

Hope isn’t a wish. It’s an aspirational verb that requires action. As my Grandma Pansy was wont to say: “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” If I hope to ride, I’m going to have to rustle up a horse and get aboard.

Hope means we work tirelessly to make things better in everyday lives, to question injustices and to right wrongs, all with a perseverance that grows not weary when success is elusive. There is no hope without action. Heavy load, huh? Tempting to toss it all out and stick to wishing the world weren’t such a mess.

I wrote those first three paragraphs on Dec. 6, 2024. They resonate a year later, but 2025 sure tested us.

It’s hard to be hopeful when on May 29 a Monroe County grand jury unrolled the gawdawful litany of corruption at Key West City Hall. It criminally indicted then-City Attorney Ron Ramsingh, Chief Building Officer Raj Ramsingh and Code Enforcement Director Jim Young and called for the resignations of City Commissioner Lissette Carey and Assistant City Manager Todd Stoughton. On Nov. 19, there were additional indictments for Raj Ramsingh and plumbing contractor George Beys.

It’s hard to be hopeful when Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis ordered the removal of rainbow crosswalks throughout the state. Somewhere around 3 a.m. on Sept. 9, the state replaced Key West’s rainbows with the standard white-on-black stripes.

It’s hard to be hopeful when hundreds of our neighbors, employees, families and friends disappeared into the Krome Detention Center and Alligator Alcatraz. When one’s “look” and accents, e-bikes, license plates and places of employment were reasons for arrests and deportation. When Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Border Patrol and the Key West Police Department became the roundup crew for immigration enforcement gone awry.

It’s hard to be hopeful when social media keyboard warriors pit us against each other with “facts they know” wrapped in flimsy assertions of nonpartisanship and objectivity.

2025 Hope | Can we re-learn the power of community?

Which leads me to the top of my 2025 Key West Hope list. I hope our One Human Family is relearning the power of being a community that welcomes all. Because if we don’t, we risk becoming little more than a grittier version of Disney World for entitled visitors and disconnected sometime residents.

The dissonance of 2025 is enough to stifle hope. To make us exchange the hard work of hope for the ease of succumbing to reflexive pessimism — or a sprinkle of pixie dust. And yet I remain hopeful.

I am hopeful because the Key West Immigrant Support Network is tirelessly working to protect our residents at risk of deportation.

Because the Key West Business Guild and the city have replaced rainbow crosswalks with rainbow bike racks and are working toward a fitting monument to the island’s queer heritage. Because the rainbow fence fairy has painted hundreds of pickets and installed dozens of mini-rainbows throughout the city.

Because the Monroe County state attorney and the grand jury are relentless in their corruption investigations. We might disagree on whether the punishment fits the crime and whether the paperwork of reform is only that, but the legal system continues to grind through this mess.

For 10 years we’ve paid little more than lip service to the wildly wonderful Key West Mystique that was grounded in the One Human Family philosophy and woven together by collaborations among straight and gay communities, businesses, politicians and nonprofits. We were legendary for our inclusiveness and our willingness to accept and enjoy all those who came to us — assuming one was not a jerk, of course.

Somewhere around 2016 we could feel a shift, a shift that escalated into 2025. There are more visiting entitled jerks. There is less tolerance, more polarizing discourse. National and state agendas infect local politics, paralyzing the collaboration essential to governing our small city.

So what does hope do? It doesn’t give up. It forgoes wishing things were different and doubles down on the hard work hope demands. Perhaps it curbs our distrustful tongues and our keyboards to give space for contextual discussions that don’t begin with a barrage of litmus tests.

Anyone who has known me more than a week knows I am a high-hope kinda girl, so let me be clear about this: Hope is not tilting at windmills. Hope is not denial or unfounded optimism. It certainly is not “false hope,” because hope doesn’t require certainty or assurance of success. Hope can be refocused as circumstances warrant.

We can do this. Hope. Not wish.