Quiet in a Storm
Quiet in a Storm
As I’m writing this, there are mass protests happening around the world. Not just in places like DC or New York City, but in small towns and suburbs, in red states and purple states, and even across the Atlantic. The “No Kings” protest is a direct response to the rising fascism in America, which at this point is not a fear, but a fact. The current administration’s two main campaign goals, mass deportations and political retribution, are intersecting in Los Angeles right now. As residents try to protect their neighbors from being deported, they are met with violence, which, as the saying goes, begets violence. In Minnesota, two Democratic state representatives were targeted in a politically motivated shooting. One died, as did her husband. Democrat-led cities and states are being attacked, just as was promised. They will bring violence and terror to other cities too. I live in one of them.
So, we protest.
Except today, I’m not in the streets. I’m here, at home, writing. I’ve been struggling with this.
I don’t remember the first protest I went to, but it started with the Iraq War in 2003 and I’ve continued to be politically active in the decades since. From relatively small rallies for local issues to large-scale mass movements, I’ve always found attending protests reassuring and energizing. Part of me knows that if I decide to attend the rally today, I’ll still feel that. But another part of me, the one that came home this afternoon and started crying after reading about what had happened in Minnesota, is so, so tired. It’s overwhelming sometimes, the mix of anger and sadness, and the way it drains.
Earlier today, a friend told me I seem to be politically entrenched in a way she was not. I took that to mean being actively engaged and following the news. I suppose I agree, but it’s hard to see myself that way. If anything, since 2016, I’ve tried to actively engage less for the sake of my mental health. My enjoyment of talking about politics has also diminished. I used to enjoy productive, friendly debate and dissecting political analysis from actual journalists and even occasionally watching C-SPAN. I’m sure social media and 24-hour news cycles have played a huge part in my political exhaustion, not to mention that the news in question these days is harrowing and relentless, but sometimes I worry that I’m just getting old and losing my edge.
And yet just last week, I found myself in a conversation with fellow New Yorkers who would call themselves politically engaged, but who revealed they hadn’t heard of the current progressive frontrunner in the New York City mayoral primary, for which early voting has already begun. So, I don’t know. Maybe I am what passes for “politically entrenched.” Maybe that’s why I’m so tired. But the alternative means not being informed, and that isn’t something any of us can afford to be right now. Nor is it something I’d ever want to be.
I am marching at the No Kings protests in spirit, but my activism today looks like this. Letting myself feel my feelings, staying informed without doomscrolling, and gearing up for the next battle.
Stay safe out there, friends.
FUN STUFF:
What I'm Reading: The Last Devil to Die by Richard Osman
What I'm Watching: North of North (Netflix)
What I'm Listening To: John Lennon
What I'm Eating: Tacos