Your Decisions are Poisoned

Life feels really hard for a lot of us right now. It's especially hard for those of us affected by recent ICE activity across the nation (including where I am, in Minneapolis), for people of color, working class people, and for people who care about other people.

Life is hard for nonprofits and the people who lead and work for them. We can't find funding, we can't talk about the issues facing our communities because there's “bigger fish to fry," and we can't rest or regroup because things are moving too fast.

We cannot dream. We cannot envision the future we want because we are too busy putting out fires and chasing the faintest leads we can.

Those of us practicing social justice are being crushed under the weight of capitalism and fascism, and it feels like there's nothing we can do. It feels like there's nothing I can do.

The hopelessness that encompasses the heart of a social justice practitioner living in 2026 America is heavy and omnipresent. The fatigue that rises from that hopelessness, where a fire used to be, is asinine.

Writing feels hard and pointless. Work has no meaning. Philanthropy is dying. Capitalism is crushing.

So what should we do? My gut reaction:

Art. Sleep. Fuck. Escape.

Find joy where we you can, for as long as you can.

Break the rules, they're not real anyhow.

Woosah.

In 2022, my husband and I developed a talk for the National Harm Reduction Coalition conference entitled Harm Reduce the Ego: Decentralizing Ego in Social Services-- which I will reference here. The room was overflowing with service practicitioners, program administrators, advocates, and researchers in the harm reduction movement. Peers, mentors, leaders. They filled the room to hear what we had to say about ego.

Our lesson to them?

Slow down.

S

L

O

W

D

O

W

N

.

The ego tells us what we do is never enough: I should be doing more, we should be doing more, I have to go faster, and I'm the only one that can do it… (this is by design, actually).

When your nervous system is overloaded, the decisions you make as a result of that are poisoned.

It feels incredibly hard to slow down, impossible even, when rapid mobilization is needed to respond to this moment. But community care principles tell us that it's ok, and even necessary, to rest so that you don't burn out-- and when it's another’s turn to rest, you are able to step in-- and the circle continues. It's mutually beneficial and keeps movement movementun.

For those of us working toward a greater good, remember to breathe. Intentionally breathe. Regulate your nervous system and tamper your ego. You cannot win with a disregulated nervous system. Also, what even is winning? What does it mean to win, when suffering permeates beyond your daily struggle and into a global scale?

Suffering is everywhere. Slow down. Breathe.

Your social justice agenda will still exist tomorrow; you may as well rest.