Hazy, uncertain but nonetheless...a pathway of resistance
tuning out the noise, creative engagement and tending to our gardens
Happy Wednesday/Thursday, friends. How are you? My apologies for failing to share this with you on Monday morning as planned. If you’re new around here (Welcome!), you might not know…but I just recently relaunched Assemblage, and with that comes a new commitment to share weekly essays/musings at 6am EST every Monday.
So in hitting ‘publish’ on this more than a couple of days late, I’m admittedly not off to a great start. But truth be told, this week (and let’s be real: all the weeks since January 20th) has been a slog. I suspect that we can all relate, whether or not we’re American.
It’s been hard to find the words to articulate the reality that is putting one foot in front of the other these days, particularly while living right in the belly of the beast (that would be Washington DC where I make home: in fact I work two blocks from the White House). We’re undergoing a fascist takeover of the country, a veritable coup d’état, and indeed I feel at a loss for words more often than not these days.
But once I lit my candle companion du jour this evening (right now it’s Lita + Ro’s “Doctor Love” – perfumed with red ginger + saffron), poured myself a cup of hibiscus tea and settled back with my iPad in gaze of the snow-covered woodland that my balcony overhangs, the words started to flow.
And I realized that the truest thing that I can possibly share with you this week is the realization that I’m coming to: tuning out the noise, focusing on creative engagement and cultivating our own gardens seem to be three vital pieces of a pathway to resistance, hazy and uncertain though the path may be.
Tuning out the noise
In a widely shared podcast/audio essay (just over 14 minutes in length) and accompanying transcript, NY Times opinion columnist Ezra Klein told us: “Don’t believe him.” In spite of all the madness, Ezra calmly reminded us that “Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president.” And crucially, he talked about the concept of “muzzle velocity” proffered by 47’s old crony Steve Bannon, which is essentially about overwhelming and “keeping the zone flooded” with nonstop news of chaos. They’ve clearly run this playbook successfully in these initial weeks. We are, or rather were, like deer caught in headlights, shocked and paralyzed.
But as Ezra further explained a few days ago on The Bulwark podcast: “The resistance IS coming back.” The numerous court rulings that have struck down most of the unlawful and unconstitutional executive orders, federal workers refusing to step down, pushback from states and cities, the flooding of Congressional phone lines with calls in record numbers (5 Calls is a great resource for this purpose, calling your representatives being one of the most effective actions that one can take), protests and demonstrations in varying sizes and small and big acts of courage (did you hear Bishop Mariann Budde’s sermon at the inaugural prayer service???)…
All of this is happening, but you wouldn’t know it by following only mainstream or traditional social media. So me personally, I’ve decided to simply tune out the noise, as best as I can.
This means that when someone sends me alarming or disorienting news, I no longer engage with it unless I’m mentally prepared or feel that it will be constructive to do so. If I see that all or most of what someone is posting on social media expresses outrage and fear, I’ll most likely unfollow them (don’t worry if this is you: we’re still friends!). And I’m working very, very hard to divest more of my time and attention from social media as a whole or to at least engage with it in a more intentional and limited manner. This is admittedly not easy, given the endless scroll and the very real positives that it also offers. I’d be happy to share my tips and strategies in a future essay, if that would be useful?
Anyway, I certainly don’t mean to imply that I don’t understand the very real human urge to commiserate and share our shock, our anger, our pain. This too is solidarity, and I totally get it. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to doing the same on occasion, especially in the lowest of these low times. All I’m saying is that we can choose how much of the noise we want in our lives, especially knowing that it’s a calculated strategy that aims at our capitulation. And we can’t give them that. In the words of Anand Giridharadas on The Ink:
“Do not participate in the fragmenting of your attention so far and so wide that you cannot prioritize, you cannot see bigger patterns, you cannot identify the merely unwise policies from the flagrantly illegal and unconstitutional ones.”
Creative engagement
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about creativity or maybe more precisely creation, which on my More/Less list for the year was the #1 thing that I noted that I want more of in my life this year. Creation, here as opposed to consumption. Then when I looked up the definition, the Oxford English Dictionary told me that creation means “the action or process of bringing something into existence.” What’s fundamental about this definition for me is the ‘bringing into existence,’ because it implies that creation is necessarily additive and generative. Action instead of reaction.
In terms of the present moment, what that suggests is that we have to focus on constructive discourse and engagement. Not just bemoaning the state of things and wringing our hands but putting in the work to figure out what to do, taking (or beginning to take) those actions and sharing helpful knowledge and resources with others. It seems like stating the obvious but it truly feels like we’re all just beginning to remember that we have this power. It’s understandable (again: flooding the zone). But lest we’ve forgotten: no one can take this from us.
In the spirit of sharing what I’ve personally found to be useful, here are some resources to check out:
Everything that I’ve linked to above
“You do not have to consent to being flooded” by J Wortham
“Shove the Presidency Down Trump’s Throat” by the New Republic
AOC’s Instagram, especially her videos explaining why calling representative(s) matters
The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU)’s resources on immigrant rights
Robert Reich’s new Substack, particularly his essays on “What you can do” and “Flooding Trump and Musk’s Zone”
Choose Democracy’s guide: “What can I do to fight this coup?” (thanks to Sarah Martin for sharing)
USAID Stop Work: Resources on why USAID matters and the consequences of its dismantling
Another helpful thing is the book I’m reading at present, Hope in the Dark: Untold Stories, Wild Possibilities by Rebecca Solnit. I consider it serendipitous that the book — which I’d heard a lot about — became available in my library queue at precisely this moment, because it’s been a balm to my soul. Though Solnit wrote it back in 2003, at another time when the world was a scary place (the Iraq War etc.) — albeit on a very different scale — it still resonates. Of the despair of dark times, Solnit asks: “What other stories can be told? How do people recognize that they have the power to be storytellers, not just listeners?”
That question reminds me of the importance of artists, writers and other creatives in the quest for constructive engagement. Solnit further writes that in spite of the decline of the world in the past half century:
“…we have also added a huge number of intangibles, of rights, ideas, concepts, words to describe and to realize that was once invisible or unimaginable, and these constitute both a breathing space and a toolbox, a toolbox with which those atrocities can be and have been addressed, a box of hope.”
The box of hope is a wide one. In order to generate the ideas, discourse and action necessary, we need subversion, subtlety, satire, wizardry: Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show at the Super Bowl was a master class in all the above. We also need unabashed protest, and as has so often been the case in our history, its drumbeat might be found in poetry, prose, comedy, visual art, the ways we gather or how we communicate with each other. Because ultimately, the box is something that we build together. And those who create are necessarily at the forefront, because they draw the maps of the possible ad because, in the beautiful words of Jeannine Ouellette: “to create is to resist the pull of despair.”
***
Tending our garden
I got to know through the Solnit book that Alice Walker once said that “Resistance is the secret of joy.” Maybe that’s why I’ve continued, in spite of the dystopian times, to lean into joy and “cultiver mon jardin” as they say in French (cultivate my garden) – meaning my home, my people and the things that bring beauty and delight to my life. And in so doing, I’ve been striving to be present and immersed in a way that I haven’t always been before. Slowing down, observing, giving my full attention.
So when I recently decided to start properly decking out my bedroom at long last, I devoted a full Saturday afternoon to the endeavor. I took the time to hunt for random odds and ends, to look at design and decor accounts on Instagram and Pinterest, to repurpose and recycle and to eventually assemble a space that feels warm, evocative and entirely like myself. A soft abode and safe space in a maddening world.
There was also the day that I told myself that in spite of my notorious lack of green thumb, I was ready to become a plant mama. I decided to follow some advice I was given and take a bit of time most days to touch and chat with them (they all have names). When I’m feeling particularly inspired, I read them a poem. It might sound a little bit…out there…but it makes me happy! And I’m proud to say that the new green additions to our family are not only surviving but thriving.
I’ve also been cooking a lot more these days, as I tend to do when the “outside” doesn’t make sense. Last Sunday morning, I awoke to a quiet house and made this amazing egg sambal shakshuka from the new Yotam Ottolenghi cookbook, inspired by the Malaysian dish nasi lemak. It was delightful to toast and grind fennel seeds, cloves and cardamom, to mix in cinnamon and curry powder and to swirl this mixture into jammy tomatoes, onion, garlic and ginger. The aromas. The warmth. Pure meditation.
Joy is also planning and working on a number of exciting new personal projects, including the magical gathering that I’m organizing in my beloved Treasure Beach, Jamaica on May 17-21: Nature, Nurture, Nourish. Check it out and let me know if you think it sounds like something you would enjoy: we still have spots left! I suspect that it will be a wondrous thing for our tired hearts and minds: just what the doctor ordered.
But what does any of this have to do with resistance, you might be wondering? I come back again to Rebecca Solnit in conclusion:
“Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated, and isolated, joy is a fine initial act of insurrection.”
So yes, by all means let’s tend to our gardens. Let’s embrace joy and delight and that which soothes, reinforces, calms, sustains, inspires or lights us on fire. We need that light – all of our light — to illuminate the pathway of resistance.
Always so enlightening and refreshing to read your words. Thanks much and keep it going!
If only you could shift your travel dates about 2 days later, you'd catch Calabash at Jake's Place. 🌿😎
I wholeheartedly agree...we need to balance what we consume, or it can affect us in ways we don't realise.