Tiny Acts of Rebellion
I want to go back to bed and sleep for a thousand years. Where once I naively assumed that we just needed to survive the initial blast of the 2024 election, I now realize there are shockwaves which will be felt for years, if not generations. Every news headline is another jerk to the system, but I can’t look away for fear of missing my chance to prepare for whatever is coming next.
I’ve been here before, if not still. On March 9, 2020, my mother got the call that Dad’s NY nursing home was locking their doors to anyone other than staff. My father is a man living with Alzheimer’s. Having lived in the facility for a handful of months, he was still only oriented to our family. Locking those doors meant he was forced to live inside a place he didn’t understand and with no one he recognized. We called the nurses station every day to get him on the phone so he could hear a familiar voice in hopes of calming his fears. On March 13th, Mom received another call. Governor Cuomo was sending COVID infected patients into the nursing home. Dad was locked in his room. All connection was lost.
So what do we do when we feel helpless, trapped, and on the brink of tuning out forever? Tiny acts of rebellion. For me, there is a pissed off kitten on today’s socks. It says “This girl takes no shit.” My tshirt features a porcupine and says, “Fuck around and find out.” Written along the inside of my arm is “And still I rise” from the great Maya Angelou. Yes, I hid under my covers for quite a while this morning, but then I knew I needed to move on, even if it meant gently. The gift I received from Dad being locked away in a single star (read: shitty) nursing home is it yanked my ignorance off of my eyes and lit the fire in my belly. Let the election do this for you, too. During this post-election storm, I will absolutely take time to heal and process. In fact, I am still recovering and learning from Dad’s ordeal. But I have learned that my rebellion also heals me. My anger is a gift and I use it. Finally getting out of bed this morning and taking a shower is my tiny act of rebellion. Getting dressed in power statements is how I choose to show up to today’s fight. And then I put up fliers around my building inviting residents to a Google Group where we can meet and connect. This is how I tear down walls of isolation and build an army of connected and caring citizens from scratch. Tiny acts of rebellion.
Maybe getting out of your bed is all you can do today, tomorrow, or all week. That is ok. But one morning, you will wake up and in the shower notice that your fire has become stronger than your exhaustion. Maybe you will share a post about a fundraiser making the world a better place or watch an inspirational poem to feed your fire and before you know it, you’ve signed up for a march or started a movement. This is how it happened to me. Minute by minute, day by day. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the fabric of my ignorance and apathy were restitched with knowledge and resistance. I promise, if you show up, this will happen to you, to us all. Together we will heal, we will connect, we will build and we will fight. Together still, we rise.
Writing and publishing more is an act of rebellion I am committed to.
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