In Memory of Renee Nichole Macklin Good

Hi, this is Kaitlin from Untangling Ourselves. This week I've been editing an upcoming episode with Mutual Aid organizer, poet, ex Mormon and queer unschooling mom Andrea Shrimp, who's also my friend. However, every minute that I'm editing, Andrea's message and voice remind me of the grief we're feeling together for another queer poet and mother, Renee Goode. Renee's family's words describing her kindness resonate deeply with Andrea's message. After trying to go on with my work, I had to stop and make this separate short episode in tribute to Renee. Donna Ganger, Renee's mother, said shortly after learning her daughter was murdered: "Renee was one of the kindest people I've ever known. She was extremely compassionate. She's taken care of people all her life. She was loving, forgiving and affectionate. She was an amazing human being."

My conversation with Andrea tells a story about someone else who took care of people all her life. Her message echoes with the message put out today from Becca Good, Renee's wife. So instead of publishing Andrea's episode, I'm going to read Becca's message here and then Andrea will read aloud Renee's poem "On learning to dissect fetal pigs" and the poem that Andrea wrote in response. The full interview with Andrea should come out next week. I'll also put in the show notes links to organizations on the ground in Minneapolis supporting the good families neighbors through their ongoing and intensifying face off with the armed and funded and empowered through hate state terror that Minneapolis continues to face. From Becca Good. This was published today, January 9th, 2026 in the Minnesota Star Tribute.

Becca says: "First, I want to extend my gratitude to all the people who've reached out from across the country and the world to support our family. This kindness of strangers is the most fitting tribute because if you ever encountered my wife, Renee Nicole Macklin Good, you know that above all else, she was kind. In fact, kindness radiated out of her. Renee sparkled. She literally sparkled. I mean, she didn't wear glitter, but I swear she had sparkles coming out of her pores all the time. You might think it was just my love talking, but her family said the same thing. Renee was made of sunshine. Renee lived by an overarching belief there is kindness in the world and we need to do everything we can to find where it resides and nurture where it needs to grow reward. Renee was a Christian who knew that all religions teach the same essential truth. We are here to love each other, care for each other, and keep each other safe and whole like people have done. Across place and time, we moved to make a better life for ourselves. We chose Minnesota to make our home our whole extended road trip year. We held hands in the car while our son drew all over the windows to pass the time and the miles. What we found when we got here was a vibrant and welcoming community. We made friends and spread joy. And while any place we were together was home, there was a strong shared sense here in Minneapolis that we were looking out for each other. Here I had finally found peace and safe harbor that has been taken from me forever. We were raising our son to believe that no matter where you come from or what you look like, all of us deserve compassion and kindness. Renee lived this belief every day. She is pure love. She is pure joy. She is pure Sunshine. On Wednesday, January 7, we stopped to support our neighbors. We had whistles. They had guns. Renee leaves behind three extraordinary children. The youngest is just six years old and already lost his father. I am now left to raise our son and continue to teach him as Renee believed, that there are people building a better world for him, that the people who did this had fear and anger in their hearts and we need to show them a better way. We thank you for the privacy you are granting our family. As we grieve, we thank you for ensuring that Renee's legacy is one of kindness and love. We honor her memory by living her values, rejecting hate and choosing compassion, turning away from fear and pursuing peace, refusing division and knowing we must come together to build a world where we all come home safe to the people we love."

And now I'll play Andrea's recording of Renee's poem "On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs," written by Renee Nicole Macklin Good.

On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs
by Renee Nicole Goode.
i want back my rocking chairs,

solipsist sunsets,

& coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches.



i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores

(mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp—

the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind):



remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils,

& salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms.

under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat

ribosome

endoplasmic—

lactic acid

stamen



at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills—



i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut—

maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul.



it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead.

can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom





now i can’t believe—

that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”—

all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as:

life is merely

to ovum and sperm

and where those two meet

and how often and how well

and what dies there.

Now Andrea will read her own poem in response to this act of violence and the loss of Renee Good

Good
by Andrea Shrimp
If ICE shoots me in the face,
Open my casket,
No reconstruction,
Don't even clean off the blood
And brains.

The idea isn't mine.
Emmett Till's mother did it first,
And bravest.

Invite the press
(If they still exist).
Invite the congresspeople
And the representatives.
Invite the fucking president.

Let them see what they have done.
Let them see.
Let the people just like me
See.

Because in Minnesota,
A 6 year old cried themself to sleep
Tonight
While their mother lay
In the cold fridge of a morgue
With her face shot off,
And all I feel
Is numb.

Thank you for listening to Untangling Ourselves. In the show notes, you'll find links to contribute to the folks fighting fascism and showing up for their neighbors in Minneapolis. You'll also find links to Renee's poem and to this statement from Becca Good. May we see an end to this funding, arming and empowering of hate.