For nearly five decades, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” has been more than just a song; it’s a global declaration of resilience. It’s the anthem played at moments of personal triumph and collective defiance, a disco track that found a second life as a powerful symbol of strength for the LGBTQ+ community and countless others facing adversity. So when it was announced that the Queen of Disco herself would be among the 48th class of Kennedy Center Honorees, it felt like a fitting tribute—a lifetime achievement award for a lifetime of inspiration. But in today’s deeply polarized America, even the most celebrated cultural moments can become political battlegrounds.

The honor, one of the most prestigious in American arts, was swiftly reframed as a moral dilemma by a prominent and powerful voice: Ana Navarro. The co-host of ABC’s The View and a famously outspoken critic of Donald Trump took to social media not to congratulate Gaynor, but to issue a direct and impassioned plea for her to reject the award. Her reasoning was simple and sharp: the honor would be bestowed by President Trump, and in her view, that association was an unforgivable stain.

Navarro’s appeal was crafted with a blend of personal affection and political fury. She began by sharing a fond memory of meeting the “goddess” and receiving a keychain that played “I Will Survive,” a small token she cherished until its batteries gave out during Trump’s first term—a symbolic detail she didn’t leave to chance. Acknowledging Gaynor’s immense legacy, Navarro then pivoted to the heart of her argument. “I wish she wouldn’t accept an award from the hands of a man who has attacked the rights and history of women, people of color and LGBTQ,” she wrote.

She specifically highlighted the sacred bond between Gaynor’s music and the gay community, which adopted the song as an anthem of survival during the darkest days of the AIDS crisis. To accept this honor from Trump, Navarro argued, would be a betrayal of those very people. Her message culminated in a stark, four-word command that echoed across the internet: “Don’t do it, Gloria!”

Instantly, the narrative shifted. What was a celebration of artistic achievement became a flashpoint in the ongoing culture war. Navarro’s plea mobilized those who believe that in the Trump era, there is no neutral ground. For them, artists of influence have a responsibility to use their platforms to resist, and accepting an award from this president is not a neutral act. They see it as lending credibility to an administration whose policies and rhetoric they find abhorrent, effectively sanitizing a controversial political figure with the sheen of cultural legitimacy. Can the artist be separated from the benefactor? Can the honor be separated from the man handing it out? For Navarro and her supporters, the answer is a resounding no.

This controversy is not happening in a vacuum. The context behind the plea is arguably as important as the plea itself. Earlier this year, President Trump orchestrated a dramatic and controversial overhaul of the Kennedy Center’s leadership. In a move that sent shockwaves through the arts world, he dismissed several board members appointed by his predecessor and installed new figures widely seen as loyalists to his political agenda. Capping it off, he took the unprecedented step of naming himself the chairman of the board, promising to make the esteemed institution “great again.” His administration openly signaled a desire to end programming deemed “inappropriate,” specifically citing drag shows, which many saw as a direct attack on the LGBTQ+ community.

This direct presidential intervention has fueled fears that the Kennedy Center, long cherished as a non-partisan sanctuary for the arts, is being weaponized as a political tool. The Kennedy Center Honors have traditionally been a moment where presidents of all parties come together with artists of all stripes to celebrate a shared cultural heritage. But with Trump at the helm, critics like Navarro argue the institution’s integrity has been compromised. The award is no longer just from the Kennedy Center; it’s from Donald Trump’s Kennedy Center.

Caught in the middle of this political tempest is Gloria Gaynor. Her initial response to the honor was one of pure, unadulterated joy. She spoke of being “beyond blessed” and expressed her desire to continue spreading a message of “encouragement, hope, empowerment, inspiration, understanding, and unity” through her music. Since Navarro’s plea went public, however, Gaynor and her team have maintained a dignified public silence. This silence is potent, leaving her position open to interpretation.

Is her acceptance a quiet statement that art transcends politics? Supporters would argue that the honor recognizes her entire body of work, a legacy that belongs to the American people, not to any single president. They might contend that refusing the award would do more to diminish the institution than to protest the individual in the White House. To deny an artist her flowers because of the gardener currently tending the estate feels, to them, profoundly unfair. Gaynor’s entire career has been about bringing people together; to force her into an act of public division seems contrary to the very spirit of her music.

The other honorees have navigated the situation quietly. Sylvester Stallone’s support for President Trump is well-known, making his acceptance expected. Rock legends KISS and country icon George Strait have avoided the political fray, keeping the focus on their music. But for Gaynor, whose art is so deeply intertwined with social movements and marginalized communities, the choice is far more fraught with meaning.

As the December ceremony approaches, the pressure on Gloria Gaynor will undoubtedly intensify. Her decision—to attend or to abstain—will be scrutinized, debated, and interpreted as a major statement. If she accepts, she will face the wrath of those who see it as a moral compromise. If she refuses, she will be hailed as a hero of the resistance but will have sacrificed a career-defining moment of recognition. She is caught between a lifetime honor and a plea for political allegiance, a position that tests the very core of her most famous lyric. Whatever she chooses to do, Gloria Gaynor must, once again, figure out how to survive.