As an organizer, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the gulf between what many people believed they would do in moments of extremity, and what they are actually doing now, as fascism rises, the genocide in Palestine continues, and climate chaos threatens the survival of living beings around the world.
In the rhythm and rhyme of history, we all have historical counterparts. Contemplating who those people are—and how we might judge their actions in parallel with our own—can be daunting, or even devastating.
However, it’s important to remember that such measurements are not fixed. Our lives, our character, our part in history—all of these things are the product of choices we make on a continuous basis. Each day, we make decisions about how to move in the world and how to relate to others. We choose what to extend to others, and what to hold in reserve, in order to sustain ourselves and our loved ones.
For some, the disparity between aspiration and practice is rooted in practical concerns—being overwhelmed by child care and the basics of survival under capitalism. For others, their reluctance is tied to safety concerns, such as a lack of COVID precautions in our movements. Still others feel demoralized and unsure of what meaningful actions they can take.
Aaron Goggans, an organizer with the WildSeed Society, believes that kind of alienation—coupled with grief and unprocessed trauma—is a major factor in the political hesitancy many activists are experiencing. The WildSeed Society works to cultivate “a spiritual community that supports activists and organizers in Movement.” That work involves creating supportive frameworks for both “rebels” and “nurturers” involved in justice work.
The values that made the Biden era possible were cast aside in favor of a return to the status quo, which would be accomplished at any cost. The transition from fighting for each other and endeavoring to support one another, to abandoning any catharsis, grieving process, or regard for disabled people—whose lives were immediately threatened by the end of widespread COVID safety practices—created a kind of emotional and political dissonance.
As Kurt Vonnegut wrote in Mother Night, a novel about an American spy pretending to be a Nazi propagandist, “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”
But how do we relate to other people about the things we know are unjust?
My fear of missing out has been replaced with a fear of going out. I am more avoidant, and when I sense that my needs aren’t being met, emotionally or spiritually, I am less likely to seek relief in a group setting. I know I am not alone in these feelings.
In order to bring people into our movements under these conditions, Aaron says that we are going to have to create projects that “meet people where they’re at.”
On an individual level, choosing how to engage, and deciding how much we can contribute, remains complicated.
As my friend Ejeris Dixon recently reminded me, “Sorrow, exhaustion, and despair can make getting more involved feel impossible.” As a movement strategist and the host of the “Fascism Barometer” podcast, Ejeris has spent a lot of time thinking about what this moment demands of us, and what’s getting in our way.
That change doesn’t have to begin with heroic acts. It can start with asking: What do I have the time and capacity to contribute?
For the sake of safety planning, coordination, fellowship, and building power, we all need to be part of something larger than ourselves. None of us can do what this moment requires of us in isolation.
If you are worried about being adequately supported and want to support others in these uncertain times, care webs and podmapping are also meaningful activities that can help strengthen the connective tissue that has been weakened for so many of us in recent years.
Aaron also emphasized that “beating yourself up when you’re doing your best isn’t getting us closer to liberation.”
Perhaps that’s the first thing we need to acknowledge to ourselves: nothing will feel like enough because everything we know and love is at stake. No individual’s actions will be commensurate with the threats we face. But we can each endeavor to do the next right thing, whatever that means for us. We must do what we can, while we can, because as Aly Wane reminds us, our time is running out. The question before us is not who we would have been in a different era, but what we are willing to do now, in concert with others, before it’s too late.