How Highly Sensitive LGBTQ+ Activists Can Stay Engaged Without Burning Out

Smash the Patriarchy Photo by: Raphael Renter Unsplash

The Urge to Hide (and Why It Won’t Work)

I get it. Every time there’s another terrible headline—another authoritarian power grab, another fundamental right under attack—the first instinct is to pull the covers over your head, scroll through Instagram, and (hopefully) forget the world’s on fire.

And if you’re a highly sensitive person in the LGBTQIA+ community (aka HSQ) who absorbs the world’s chaos like an emotional sponge, that urge is even stronger.

And if you’re an HSQ like me? You don’t just see injustice—you feel it in your bones.

But here’s the thing: Hiding under the covers—while comfy—doesn’t actually help. And neither does going it alone, even when people are exhausting.

The anger. The helplessness. The onslaught of bad news. The feeling of screaming into the void while some unelected billionaire and his hacker bros gut democracy—it’s enough to make even the most resilient among us shut down.

Getting Out the Damn Door

I almost didn’t go.

Sunday afternoon, Senator Ron Wyden and newly elected Representative Janelle Bynum were holding a town hall not far from my place—a chance to hear directly from them, make our voices heard, and show support for Democrats navigating a Congress dominated by obstructionist Republicans. Their message was clear: engagement is critical, and despite everything, there’s still hope for the upcoming midterm elections.

I had made plans with a few friends, knowing presence matters in moments like this. But when it came time to leave, I had a dozen good excuses to stay home—too tired, too much already on my plate, too overwhelmed by the never-ending stream of bad news.

And honestly? Events like this can be hell for an HSP—the lights, the noise, the tension. It’s a lot.

But as much as I wanted to bail, guilt got my ass in gear. I couldn’t stand the thought of texting my friends last minute with some weak excuse.

So I went. And I’m glad I did.

1,200 people showed up on a Sunday afternoon—standing up, asking hard questions, demanding answers.

Because even in exhaustion, even in grief, we still show up.

When Politics Feels Like a Sensory Overload Nightmare

I wasn’t the only one overstimulated.

The guy in front of me? He literally put his hands over his ears.

And honestly? I don’t blame him.

At one point, Senator Ron Wyden practically shouted—“It’s not going to happen on my watch!”—in response to a question about potential cuts to Social Security and veterans' services.

It felt more performative than reassuring, but the crowd?

We started stomping. Clapping. Foot-pounding so loud it shook the bleachers.

People aren’t just upset—we’re done.

And then Janelle Bynum took the mic.

"You cannot go home and go to sleep anymore. That is not an option. If you go home and go to sleep and you're tired, I get it. But that is no longer an option."

That line stuck with me.

Because if you’re highly sensitive, you do want to retreat.
You need downtime. You need to process.
You need to regulate your nervous system before you collapse under the weight of everything you carry.

But resting—like pulling the blanket over your head—isn’t the same as disappearing.

Why Politics Feels So Personal for HSPs

If you’re reading this, you already know—politics isn’t just politics. It’s personal.

It’s your rights. Your marriage. Your healthcare. Your safety.

And if you’re an HSP, you don’t just understand that—you feel it in your bones.

We’re wired for deep empathy and a strong sense of justice. We can’t just “tune it out” the way some people can.

When lawmakers strip away LGBTQ+ rights, ban books, or gut healthcare protections, it doesn’t feel like a policy debate.

It feels like a personal attack.

And it kind of is.

But here’s the catch—HSPs don’t have the same emotional armor as everyone else. We feel things deeply.

We pick up on micro-shifts in people’s expressions, the tension in the room when hard questions get asked.

We’re hyper-aware of power imbalances and the ways injustice seeps into everyday life—and, quite frankly, when politicians are feeding us bullshit answers.

Our bodies and minds process all of this. And that means?

We burn out faster, harder, and more completely.

How Political Overload Shows Up in HSPs

Highly sensitive people are born with a genetic trait called sensory processing sensitivity.

Basically, that means our nervous systems run hot.

We don’t just experience political stress as “frustration” or “concern.”

It hits at a nervous system level.

How?

• We take on collective grief. Seeing others suffer doesn’t just make us sad—it feels like it’s happening to us.

• We struggle to “shut it off” at night. Conversations, arguments, and debates replay in our heads long after they’re over.

• We get activist guilt. No matter how much we do, it never feels like enough.

• We swing between rage and shutdown. One day, we’re fired up and ready to fight. The next? We’re emotionally fried and scrolling aimlessly just to numb out.

And it’s not just emotional stress—there’s a physical toll, too:

• Headaches from sensory overload (fluorescent lighting, loud voices, tension in the room)

• Clenched stomach and tight shoulders

• Trembling, sweating, racing heart, dizziness

Sound familiar?

That’s why we need strategies to engage without imploding.

Because staying in this cycle too long leads to despair.

And despair? That’s what they want.

Doomscrolling & the “Flood the Zone” Strategy

Janelle Bynum made an important point at the town hall:

"Take breaks from being online—even when it feels impossible."

And she’s right.

Because political exhaustion isn’t accidental. It’s a strategy.

Back in 2018, Trump’s former chief strategist, Steve Bannon, openly described his tactic as “flooding the zone with shit.”

The goal? Overwhelm, disorient, and exhaust the public with an endless barrage of chaos.

And it works.

Bannon—a far-right extremist with a well-documented history of racism, misogyny, and anti-LGBTQ rhetoric—doesn’t just want to confuse you. He wants you to give up.

Because the more outrage fatigue we feel, the more likely we are to disengage.

And when we disengage? They win.

Which is exactly why intentional disengagement isn’t complacency—it’s survival.

It’s reclaiming our focus instead of letting them dictate where our energy goes.

How to Stay Engaged Without Burning Out as a Highly Sensitive Person

1. Protect Your Energy Like It’s Rent Money (HSP activism self-care strategy)

You wouldn’t blow your rent money on concert tickets (I mean, hopefully). Your emotional energy works the same way.

Before diving into activism, ask yourself:
What’s my actual capacity this week?

💡 Try this: At the start of each week, rate your energy on a scale from 1-10.
✔ If you’re at a 3, that’s a week to read, learn, and process instead of taking action.
✔ If you’re at a 9, that’s a week to engage.

It’s not about doing it all—it’s about picking what’s sustainable.

2. Not Every Fight Is Yours—And That’s Okay (LGBTQ+ activism without burnout)

Not every battle needs you.

Some people thrive on Twitter debates with trolls (bless them). Others are better at quiet, behind-the-scenes organizing.

Protesting, making calls, educating family, donating, volunteering—there are a million ways to be involved.

💡 Example: If talking to strangers about politics makes you want to scream into the void, don’t force yourself to canvass.

Maybe your activism looks like:
✔ Organizing mutual aid efforts
✔ Writing postcards to voters
✔ Funding grassroots movements

Pick what fuels you instead of what drains you.

3. Hydrate, Eat, and For the Love of All Things Holy—Take Breaks (Preventing sensory overload at protests and town halls)

I was so damn glad I brought my water bottle.

Dehydration increases stress and exhaustion. And HSPs? We burn out fast.

✔ HSPs process stimulation more intensely, which drains energy faster.
✔ Low blood sugar + political engagement = bad idea.

💡 Protest tip: Bring a snack, water, and a grounding object (fidget, stone, anything small) to help regulate your nervous system.

4. Find Your People—Even When You Want to Hermit (Queer community support for activism fatigue)

Isolation is the enemy.

And trust me, I get it—people are A LOT.

But solidarity doesn’t mean social burnout.

Find low-drama, high-impact groups where you can:
✔ Vent without explaining why your outrage is valid
✔ Strategize without doomspiraling
✔ Feel connected without overextending yourself

💡 Example: Instead of doomscrolling solo, connect with a friend —focus on action steps instead of feeding anxiety spirals.

5. Your Nervous System Wasn’t Built for 24/7 Crisis Coverage (Setting social media boundaries as an HSQ)

Doomscrolling can feel productive, but it’s not.

Checking every update won’t make you more informed—it’ll just make you more exhausted.

💡 Try this:
✔ Set a “news curfew.” No political updates past 7 PM.
✔ Mute keywords on Twitter/X so you can control what you see.
✔ Designate 10-minute news check-ins instead of letting it consume your whole day.

6. Redefine Resistance—It Doesn’t Have to Look Like Martyrdom (Sustainable activism for highly sensitive people)

Sensitivity is a superpower.

It means you see what others ignore. It means you care deeply and won’t accept injustice as “just the way things are.”

But resistance doesn’t mean self-destruction.

💡 Example: If attending a protest wrecks your nervous system for days, shift your activism to:
✔ Hosting a recovery space for activists
✔ Supporting a community fundraiser
✔ Providing logistical support (rides, supplies, coordination)

The Power of Showing Up—Even When It’s Hard

Back to that town hall.

It would have been so easy to skip it.

To stay home.
To assume my presence didn’t matter.
To let someone else ask the hard questions.

But 1,200 people showed up.

Not because we all had boundless energy or endless hope—but because we knew we had to.

Politics is exhausting. But so is oppression.

One will drain you. The other will destroy you.

As Cory Booker put it:

"We can’t stop bad people from doing bad things. But, they can’t stop good people from doing good things."

So if you’re tired, rest.

But don’t disappear.

Take a breath.

Take a step.

Keep going.

Disclaimer: This blog shares my reflections on mental health but is not a substitute for therapy. The advice is general and may not fit everyone. If you're struggling, please seek support from a licensed mental health professional.