A friend recently made what I consider dismissive remarks about safety pins and protests, essentially saying they are not effective. The timing stung because I was wearing a safety pin and had mentioned going to a march, but I try to be open minded and curious, so I asked myself some questions. Are these just facile, feel-good gestures, proverbial drops in an ocean of do-gooding (that is so a word :P)? Perhaps, if I just put on my pin and thought, “Activism completed; I’m good.” But like so many, I want to do more. Those of us who are able to can: march, write, boycott, donate, volunteer and come up with dozens of other creative ways to resist. As I told my friend who was doubting the power of marches and boycotts, we’re just starting to resist Trump. New movements will begin, leaders will emerge (maybe someone you or I know), and there will be so many ways to get involved.

My friend’s remarks also called to mind something I wrote more than 10 years ago, a reminder to myself that I believe small acts of resistance do matter.

I’m reading the best book: The Impossible Will Take a Little While. It’s a collection of essays about hope, about keeping the faith in trying times, and about how even small gestures can have great impact.

In the introduction, editor Paul Loeb tells the story of a friend who took her children to a vigil to protest nuclear testing. In the pouring rain, Lisa stood with about one hundred other women in front of the White House, feeling dejected by the small turnout. Lisa attended a much larger rally a few years later, where Dr. Spock spoke of what inspired him to get involved with this issue. He had been in D.C. at the same time that Lisa was at her vigil and saw the group standing in the rain. “I thought that if those women were out there,” he said, “their cause must be really important.”

I really needed this story. It expresses ideas that are close to my heart and that I too often forget. We rally, protest, write, blog, etc. in the hope that we will make the world a better place, but we can’t always be sure of the outcome. But the gesture, whether dramatic or tiny, matters.

Before our country preemptively and needlessly attacked Iraq, millions of us all over the world gathered to say “Not in our name.” For this, we were dismissed as “focus groups.” We didn’t succeed in preventing the war, of course, and if you look at the pictures from that day, you’ll see that many of us look like little dots. I was one of those dots, and while I knew that we wouldn’t change Bush’s mind, I also knew that we had to be there. I needed to be there: to say “no,” to add my face and voice to the millions of other focus group dots, to tell the world that not all Americans were bloodthirsty imbeciles, to do anything I could to resist the madness. And who knows? Maybe, collectively, we inspired a future Dr. Spock, or a Nelson Mandela, or maybe we just changed a few minds.

This is a wonderful, inspiring collection. Here are some other excerpts that I particularly like:

“When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because every single one of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others.”
Eduardo Galeano, from The Book of Embraces

“But to feel the affection that comes from those we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and our solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses — that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.”
Pablo Neruda, from Neruda and Vallejo

“I do not believe the wicked always win. I believe our despair is a lie we are telling ourselves. In many other periods of history, people, ordinary citizens, routinely set aside hours, days, time in their lives for doing the work of politics, some of which is glam and revolutionary and some of which is dull and tedious and not especially pure — and the world changed because of the work they did. That’s what we’re starting now.”
Tony Kushner, adapted from talks at Chicago’s Columbia College and New York’s Cooper Union

Jesus’ Third Way
Assert your own humanity and dignity as a person.
Meet force with ridicule or humor.
Shame the oppressor into repentance.
Deprive the oppressor of a situation where force is effective.
Be willing to undergo the penalty of breaking unjust laws.
Walter Wink, from Jesus and Nonviolence: The Third Way

“Sometimes only untamed irreverence can heal our bodies or souls.”
Paul Loeb, from the introduction to the chapter “The Flight of Our Dreams”

I so love this book. Since I wrote the above, the book has been updated, most recently in 2014. It makes a wonderful gift for a loved one — or gift it to yourself.

I’m still reeling from the election and still very rusty as a blogger, but I can recognize and link to intelligent and thoughtful commentary.

We’re heading into dark times. This is how to be your own light in the Age of Trump is chilling, but we live in chilling times. I’d rather face the truth and use my voice than live obliviously. There is too much at stake.

Write down what you value; what standards you hold for yourself and for others. Write about your dreams for the future and your hopes for your children. Write about the struggle of your ancestors and how the hardship they overcame shaped the person you are today.

Write your biography, write down your memories. Because if you do not do it now, you may forget.

Write a list of things you would never do. Because it is possible that in the next year, you will do them.

Write a list of things you would never believe. Because it is possible that in the next year, you will either believe them or be forced to say you believe them.

…

But most of all, never lose sight of who you are and what you value. If you find yourself doing something that feels questionable or wrong a few months or years from now, find that essay you wrote on who you are and read it. Ask if that version of yourself would have done the same thing.

And if the answer is no? Don’t do it.

I will try to post my thoughts is the the coming days or weeks, but for now, I can say this:

I will never believe that any group of people is inferior to another and deserving of scapegoating. There is so much more to say, but it starts with the assumption that every human deserves a life of dignity, free of discrimination and cruelty.

Since the election, I’ve been hearing from various sources—opinion pieces and social media, mostly—that our country needs to pull together and work with what we have. Obviously not everyone feels that way, including me (#notmypresident), and there have been many protests, but I’m afraid that conciliation will win out. That we’ll be told “It’s time to move on, to heal.”

I’m all for healing and compassion for all, even those whose views I find abhorrent. But by compassion, I mean acknowledging that even bigots have feelings, may have families who love them, etc., and that I will not knowingly cause these people harm. It does not mean that I meet them halfway, that “there are two sides to every story.” There are probably zillions of sides to a story if you use your imagination, but it doesn’t mean every side should be given equal weight. Doing so, in the case of racist, sexist, homophobic narratives, normalizes hatred and emboldens those who already hate. This, of course, has been an ongoing problem that is only accelerating. Since November 9, the Southern Poverty Law Center has received 437 reports of harassment.

Noah Fischer @ Hyperallergic expresses far more eloquently what I’m trying to say.

It is not the duty of private citizens (or anyone, actually) to automatically line up behind someone who has scapegoated the most vulnerable people in the country and threatened peaceful protesters and his political opponent with violence in order to win — exhibiting the unmistakable qualities of fascism.

…

This turn away from business as usual and toward collective resistance looms in a very real sense as the only hope for progressive values concerning gender, race, the protection of the environment, and also economic equity.

Thousands gathered at Lake Merritt yesterday to peacefully protest racism, sexism, Islamophobia and other forms of discrimination and cruelty. At 3:45, I held hands with people I’d never met and we collectively hoped for a better world, with many ideas floated for taking action.

I remember marching against the Iraq war and in support of or in protest of many other causes. This time feels different; never has the idea of dissent being stifled felt quite this real and immediate.

I have two ideas* going through my mind. One, love will save us. Two, don’t negotiate with terrorists. Meaning, don’t give a inch to anyone who voices racism, sexism , homophobia and hate of any kind.

My actions: pray, meditate, volunteer, write, create, console, accept consolation, donate, act with kindness. BUT: do not appease and do not stay silent.

Another action: read and share intelligent news and analysis.

A very smart friend sent me the following article by Masha Gessen. Among all of the post-election autopsies, I find these words some of the wisest.

*That is such bullshit. I have lots of ideas, but I’m trying to stay focused.

Here’s something I wrote two days after the election (slightly edited), when I was raw and numb. Yes, I can be both simultaneously.

Exhausted, drained, heartbroken.

I know that goodness and love will prevail. I know that this is a beautiful planet, and even through my despair, I see beauty every day.

Last night, I spent time with my awesome, brilliant and adorable grandbaby, watching him run around, yell and laugh, and helping him turn his Transformer from a robot back to a car (Who knew? I have zero mechanical ability, but he had faith in me, and I did it.) He’s two and would make a better president than that racist, misogynistic man that half the country thought would be a refreshing change, or as I see it, fuck this country up even more than it already is, trash the legacy of our first Black president, and give women, POC, LGBTQ people, the disabled, and anyone who cares about decency a big slap across our collective face.

So, yes, I’m angry. I’m also terribly sad, but I know I will be hopeful again, too. People devastated by this election are doing the best they can. Some need to look for hope, some need to rage, some need to grieve, some need a big fucking margarita, some need to cry, and some need to do all of the above. I need to do a little, or a lot, of each, especially cry. There’s room for all of it, my emotions will keep swirling and coexisting. I will probably keep crying, keep being angry, even as I regain some hope and take action.

I’m not joking about my grandson, btw. He’d need good advisers (possibly Daniel Tiger and Super Grover, who’d be preferable to what I’ve seen of DT’s list), but all presidents do. He might get a little upset when he doesn’t get his way, but he quickly recovers and is laughing again within minutes. And he’s never cruel.

I’m still raw and imagine I will be for some time. That’s not a bad thing. We can move forward, even with broken hearts. For me, it’s not about regaining all my hope and then being able to take action. For one, I’m not sure how much time we have. I’m going to use my voice as long as I can, even if I’m despairing. It’s only one voice, but it’s one of many.