Saying Goodbye to 2018’s Seesaw of Outrage and Numbness

All year long, I have been on a seesaw of outrage and numbness. The deaths of children in government custody. The Kavanaugh confirmation hearings. The family separation policy. The rollbacks to protections of queer and trans communities. The crackdown on accessing food stamps. These are just a few of the ways in which the Trump Administration threatened the rights, bodies, psyches, and livelihoods of people in 2018.

I saw a lot of you on similar seesaws out there. Many of us are either directly affected by or are close to someone experiencing the Administration’s relentless attacks. Still others of us are worn down, disoriented, and numb. It’s not surprising. During the first two years of the Trump presidency, people of conscience have been caught in a push and pull cycle that has demanded struggle at every turn. There have been no ebbs or flows, and no collective sighs of relief — because once we evaded the disaster at one blockade, we had to confront a siege somewhere else.

Sustaining high levels of outrage, constant vigilance, and short-term cycles of rapid response is unrealistic and unhealthy for us as individuals and community members, and as organizations and movements. At the same time, becoming numb, accepting what is happening as the new normal or relying on spurts of self-care are not long-term options either.

How do we get off the seesaw? How can we practice principled actions under grim circumstances? How can 2019 be a year of both risk-taking and visioning?

In our lives and as part of movements and organizations, many of us play different roles in pursuit of equity, liberation, inclusion, and justice.

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Some of us are frontline responders who quickly and ably transition into rapid-response mode instinctively and organize resources, networks, and messages.

Some of us are healers who tend to the intergenerational trauma of racism, colonialism, capitalism, patriarchy, and nativism.

Some of us are community storytellers and artists, binding the past and the present, channeling the histories and experiences of our ancestors to shed light on what is possible today.

Some of us are natural bridge builders who can work across divisions with patience and compassion.

Some of us are proud disruptors who speak up and take action — especially when it is uncomfortable and risky.

And some of us are visionaries, with the ability to find, articulate, and reconnect us to our north star, even when we cannot clearly see the sky.

Not all of us can (or should) play each of these roles; an effective movement ecosystem requires different actors to play these roles. We might also find ourselves falling into different roles depending on personal and external circumstances. Or, we might be observers and supporters from the side from time to time.

Here are some guiding questions to use the image above to reflect on your own social change journey for 2019:

What other roles do people and organizations play? What questions are part of your movement practice? Please feel free to add them in the comments.

In 2018, I found inspiration from people and organizations who played various roles in seeking justice for immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. Here are a few examples:

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Therese Patricia Okoumou scales the Statue of Liberty to protest immigrant policies (New York Daily News).

Thank you for reading, reflecting, and building towards a more just and more peaceful 2019. Please let me know if you used the image and questions in your own 2018 reflections and 2019 planning. Follow me here and on Twitter @dviyer.

Author of We Too Sing America; Host of Solidarity is This podcast; Senior Advisor at Building Movement Project; South Asian American activist/lawyer. @dviyer

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