WINTER ISSUE 2025:
December 18, 2025
A Personal Resolution for 2026: Choosing Humanity First
This editorial frames 2026 as a call to quieter, harder work: repairing relationships, practicing patience, extending intentional kindness, and forgiving self and others. Rejecting dehumanization and political absolutism, it asserts that justice and compassion can coexist, and that enduring social change is built through daily choices rooted in shared humanity.
By William Cameron
USE ARROWS TO MOVE THROUGH IMAGES
As we enter 2026, I find myself less interested in grand declarations about changing the world and more focused on the quieter, harder work of changing myself. History shows us that the world rarely improves through outrage alone. It improves when individuals decide to live with more care, more patience, and more responsibility for how they show up in the lives of others. My resolution for the coming year is simple in concept but demanding in practice: to create a better environment and a better world, beginning with my own heart, my own actions, and my own relationships.
The first place this work must happen is in mending what is broken. Relationships, once strained, do not heal on their own. They require humility, listening, and the willingness to admit fault without immediately seeking justification. In 2026, I resolve to lean into uncomfortable conversations instead of avoiding them, to apologize without conditions, and to forgive without keeping score. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting harm or excusing wrongdoing; it means refusing to let resentment dictate the future. When relationships are repaired, even imperfectly, the world becomes a little more stable, a little more human.
Patience is another commitment I want to take seriously. We live in a time that rewards speed—fast opinions, fast judgments, fast outrage. But patience is where understanding lives. It allows space for people to explain themselves, to stumble, to grow. I want to slow my reactions, especially when I feel misunderstood or provoked. Not every disagreement is an attack, and not every mistake is a moral failure. Choosing patience is choosing to believe that people are more than their worst moments.
Kindness, too, must be intentional. It is easy to be kind when things are going well, when we feel secure and affirmed. It is much harder when we are tired, afraid, or angry. Yet kindness is most powerful precisely in those moments. In 2026, I want to practice kindness not as a performance but as a discipline—speaking gently when I could be sharp, offering help without being asked, and assuming good intentions whenever possible. Small acts of kindness ripple outward in ways we rarely see, shaping environments that feel safer and more hopeful.
Image: Red Mountain Pass -Colorado
Perhaps the most difficult resolution of all is forgiveness of self. We are often harsher with ourselves than with anyone else, carrying old failures and regrets like permanent verdicts. I resolve to treat myself with the same grace I hope to offer others. Reflection should be honest but not cruel. Growth requires accountability, yes, but also compassion. When we forgive ourselves, we free up energy to do better rather than simply feel worse.
Taking time to step back and reflect is essential to all of this. Reflection reminds us that we are human—limited, emotional, learning as we go. It helps us recognize how similar we truly are beneath surface differences. When we pause long enough to listen, we discover that most people want remarkably similar things: strong and unwavering love from a partner, closeness with family, meaningful friendships, work that provides dignity and purpose, and health that allows us to enjoy the years we are given. These desires cut across borders, beliefs, and identities.
No matter where we come from, what our sexuality is, what our ethnicity is, or what language we speak, we are far more alike than we are different. We all experience fear and hope. We all want to be seen and valued. We all, quite literally, put our pants on one leg at a time. Remembering this does not erase real differences, but it puts them in proper perspective. Differences do not have to become divisions unless we insist on making them so.
Holding on to our shared humanity does not mean abandoning moral clarity. We should still be resolute in rooting out evil, greed, abuse, and corruption wherever they appear. Justice matters. Accountability matters. But when political identities harden into absolute moral categories, we lose sight of the people behind the labels. Political leanings should never override basic human dignity. We can argue fiercely about policies and priorities while still recognizing one another as neighbors, coworkers, family members, and fellow citizens of the same fragile world.
Image: California road on HWY 140. Destination: Yosemite National Park
In 2026, I want to resist the temptation to dehumanize those I disagree with. Dehumanization is easy, intoxicating, and destructive. It simplifies complex realities into enemies and allies, heroes and villains. But the future we say we want—a safer, fairer, more peaceful world—cannot be built on contempt. It must be built on dialogue, courage, and a willingness to stand together against what truly harms us.
Fighting for a good future requires collective effort. No single person can fix everything, but every person can contribute something. By being more patient, more kind, more forgiving, and more reflective, we create environments where cooperation becomes possible. We model the world we hope to live in. We show that strength and compassion are not opposites, and that unity does not require uniformity.
My resolution for 2026 is not perfection. It is commitment. Commitment to choosing humanity over hostility, understanding over assumption, and hope over cynicism. If enough of us make similar choices—quietly, persistently, imperfectly—we may find that the world changes not through force, but through care. And that might be the most enduring change of all.
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About the author
With a 25-year background in print advertising sales and publishing, a love for art and design, and steadfast determination, William has helped develop and execute the successful launch of three publications over his career; METROMODE being his own. As the Creative Director, he sets the brand's vision and leads a talented team of writers while bringing his creative abilities (16-years in graphic design) to designing each issue.
Since 2004, METROMODE has been a beacon for the LGBTQIA+ community and our allies. We’re a publication built on quality, not only in our advertising clients but in the look, feel, and editorial pieces of each magazine. METROMODE speaks to the entire community with thoughtful analysis of local, national, and global events affecting our community; developments in business, finance, the economy, and real estate; interviews with emerging and seasoned artists, musicians, and writers; appealing new opportunities to enjoy Colorado’s rich culture and social atmosphere; quality aesthetic experiences from film, to food, to music, to art, to night life; and challenging social and political thought.
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