Revolutionary optimism
Hope as necessary practice
Some days I wake up and all the possibilities in the world seem right there -- it's like I can feel the new world of justice and love breathing on my neck. I get goosebumps of excitement knowing it's coming, it’s inevitable it's here, even if only in tiny little patches. These are the good days. The days when all the pushback against the massive systems of injustice and destruction seem worth it. When the exhaustion of 20+ years of activism seems a distant dream and I am alive and the world is full of potential.
I'd like to say that this is most days. I'd like to say that believing in another world beyond capitalism is as easy as breathing, as second nature as my heart beat. But it's not.
Most days I wake up and I am aware of how far we need to go. How many interconnected parts there are that need to change. How burnt out and worn down and disconnected so many of us are. I'm aware that I have to focus on making money, and raising my kid so that they can make money, so that we can survive this capitalist hellscape until something new is born.
Most days, optimism and belief in the new world is the work of the day. Because I owe it to the world to believe in a better world. I owe it to life to believe in our collective power to dream something new into being. Most days, it’s a practice, one so critically necessary and one that has allowed me to stay in the struggle for 24 years.
Today is one of those days. I had nightmares about the genocide in Gaza -- dreams of precarious beds of sand, bodies thinner than bodies should ever be, men taking impossible routes to food and water just to avoid the snipers. Dreams of cries and screams and wails of those buried under rubble and those mourning them.
I woke thinking of all that is happening -- everything that people are doing, how much we've shifted the narrative, challenged the colonial capitalist machine, how many people have been arrested and lost their jobs and their schooling fighting for an end to the occupation and STILL there has been no material change for the people on the ground in Gaza. Still the US sends bombs to drop on children. Still Canada criminalizes those trying to stop the bloodshed. Still the UK fights to have Netenyahu free from consequences. Still the death toll rises as bombs drops, and snipers shoot and Israeli soldiers tie Palestinian bodies to their jeeps as literal human shields. Still Gaza is just one point in the vast network of oppression and exploitation happening, just one genocide in a sea of violence.
And if this is the starting point, how does one find hopefulness? How does one maintain optimism? This, then, is the practice. This, then, is the place where we interrupt hopelessness and despair and fight against the system that would keep us feeling helpless and alone.
I start with gratitude. Because being grateful literally shifts our brain chemistry by releasing dopamine and seratonin and those brain chemicals make us feel "happy". And a good boost of brain chemicals can go a long way to shifting our mental state.
Then I move onto my body. What does it need? Am I hungry? Thristy? Need to stretch? Dance? Shower? Tending to our bodies’ needs can also really shift our perspective. Because we feel worse in our brains when our bodies have untended needs. (seriously, go drink some water right now!)
Once I've tended to my body I sit with my feelings. And I feel the despair, but only for a short amount of time. I allow myself to feel it fully, and deeply, for about 5 minutes. And because emotions are fleeting things, often five minutes is all you need to really sit with a feeling before it moves on to something else. (Not that it won’t come up again, but when it does, you can sit with it again).
And then it's filling myself with connection with others, if I can. Because in community, even if its just texting a friend, or chatting on the phone, we heal. We heal together. We get through the hard feelings together. We bolster each other. We make each other resilient. We remind each other of the beauty of life.
If I can't find someone to connect with, then it's all about reminding myself about the goodness that's happening right now. It might be slow. It might not be fast enough. But it's good. And people are going good all the time. People are caring and compassionate and helpful and loving all the time. And I focus on that. Big or small. Did the neighbour feed my cat while I was away? Did the Norway pension fund just divest millions from Caterpillar for bulldozing Palestinian villages? Whatever it is, whatever win, small or large, I focus on that.
And generally, by the end of the day, I have found my way back to believing in the good of the world. Even if I can't feel the breath of the new world on my neck, I can see its face in the distance, enough of a glimpse to know that it's coming, it's inevitable.
Some days I don't make it. And those are the hardest days. Those are the days where I believe in the power of sleep and the cycles of the earth. The day ends, and a new day dawns. The sun rises on a new tomorrow. And tomorrow needn't bring the same as today. Tomorrow can always be something new, something different and powerful and connecting.
Practicing revolutionary optimism, believing in world of love and justice, is so critical to sustaining our activism. And it's a skill, a practice. One that we can all access, in our own ways. To orient ourselves towards believing in a good outcome, in the inherent goodness of humanity, in the loving and just world to come, is a revolutionary act.
The system wants us downtrodden and pessimistic. It wants our hopelessness and helplessness so it can continue to exploit us. Our belief in another way, our hope and optimism is a threat to the oppressive capitalistic system. One that bolsters us into continuing. One that costs nothing, and offers a lens of beauty and joy, everyday, if only we would let it.
May we all find our way towards revolutionary optimism.
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