I stepped between two people about to fight this week. Not to convince them to stop or to force them to do anything (because I couldn’t) - just to get in the way and interrupt the momentum of the conflict.
I didn’t do it to fix the problem, resolve the conflict, or determine the outcome. I did it because it was the thing to do in that moment.
This shifted some things around how I understand our political resistance. Instead of asking, how can I fix it? I wonder if often a more helpful question is: Given what’s real, what must I do in this moment?
Because I don’t know the answer the first question. I don’t know how to fix this.
I cannot single-handedly abolish ICE, end migrant detention, open our borders, or stomp out xenophobia and racism. And while I believe we can do these things collectively, we will drive ourselves to a breaking point if we make our agency contingent upon our ability to fix this mess immediately.
But we can make things harder. We can interrupt spirals of panic and hatred. We can bring clear energies to turbulent spaces. We can surprise, scare, and disrupt authoritarianism. We can make things more difficult, complicated, and uncomfortable by inserting our bodies, voices, and energies into what is already in motion.
The two people I stepped between may have still been able to get at each other, but it certainly would have been more cumbersome and complicated with (6 ft, 180 lbs) me in the middle. Suddenly they both had new questions to consider: can I get around this person? Do I want to try? Am I willing to harm a third-party? Even if the answers were all yes, having to consider them at all slowed it down, if only by fractions.
What spaces of pause, dilemma, and interruption can we create?
Resistance invites us to get creative with our power and agency. It asks us to use our power to derail, connect, refuse, dissent, create, dream, transgress, step in, stand up, and speak out. It asks us to find new and inventive ways to become radiant beacons of our truth and power.
So even when it’s hard and feels impossible, I’m remembering: All of it counts. All of it matters. And all of it’s essential.