On Despair, Keeping 'Ectiff' & Expectations

Despair

I know I like to portray myself as Little Suzy Sunshine most of the time, but, there are occasions when even I feel ready to march right on over into the Doomer camp. These past few days, I've been feeling this hard. Maybe it's the residual effects of the recent full moon. Maybe it's, as Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor say, we are entering "End Times Fascism". Maybe it's epigenetics in action. Maybe it was the endless pages of "Alligator Alcatraz" merch I saw listed on Etsy and Amazon and eBay when I went to report them for violating their policies on promoting violence. Maybe it was the screenshot of "Alligator Alcatraz" word search books being sold on Amazon that one of my keyboard warrior friends sent to me. Maybe it's the fact that we are witnessing fascism steamroll its way into the US, and I'm glued to the screen, watching Trump's gestapo do what gestapos have always done - violently abduct a specific demographic and imprison them in tragically inhumane conditions, and what I'm seeing makes me want to vomit and scream.

You've gotta wonder what words Kevin will have us searching for. "Concentration"? "Camp"? "Torture"? "Gestapo"? "Fascism"? "Hell"? "Nazis"? "Immorality"? "Cruelty"? "Fuckedupness"?

Add to these horrors, the relentless heartbreak coming out of Gaza - the latest being the Israeli government's plan to imprison the surviving Palestinian population in a literal concentration camp. Add to this that, no matter how (relatively) progressive our local and provincial governments are, they can't seem to do a damned thing to provide humane solutions to care for our unhoused neighbours. The suffering on our streets, as seen on the streets everywhere, is gut-wrenching, and entirely unnecessary.

These past few days I've been a complete mess of inconsolable heartbreak and unmitigated fury. I'm struggling to feel any hint of compassion for the 77+ million Americans who voted for the murderous orange menace. For the life of me, I cannot understand how this many people missed the glaring signs of what they were voting for. Could 77+ million people really be total assholes and/or complete idiots? What am I missing here? Throw me something that might warm a corner of compassion in my currently unforgiving heart. OF COURSE Trump was planning a fascist coup! OF COURSE he was going to fuck up everything he touched. You didn't even have be literate to see that he was completely unfit to run anything, let alone a country.

So, if you're feeling despair, I get it. I'm feeling it too, and it's brutal. But, as Rebecca Solnit says, "I respect despair as an emotion but please don't mistake it for an analysis." So, yeah - let's all allow ourselves some grace if we're not feeling like mighty warriors 24/7 amid the daily onslaught of horror, and, instead, we feel the need to curl up in a ball of despair. But then, it's time to get 'ectiff'.

Keeping 'ectiff'

My mother's oldest, dearest friend, my Auntie Rachel, always came across to me as cheerful. No matter what setbacks, disappointments, ailments, or heartbreaks she faced, she always managed to bounce back to her positive, upbeat self. Her secret? Auntie Rachel's advice for the bummed-out, for the depressed was to "keep ectiff!". Do shit. Help others. Be active in your community. Be an activist. Do something!

Of all the gifts this dear auntie gave me when I was younger, I think this solid piece of advise has been the most important, the most enduring, the most valuable. I can hear her voice in my head while I figure out how to be noisy in defence of decency. I hear her voice in my head as I pen each letter to politicians. I hear her voice in my head every Saturday when I bang Pots for Peace in Palestine. I heard her voice in my head this past week while I figured out how to report the vile 'Alligator Alcatraz' merch on eBay, Etsy and Amazon. "Keep ectiff!"

And, you know what? I think she was right? Keeping active is one of the most powerful antidotes to despair, and it has definitely been what's kept my sensitive soul afloat during these scary times.

On Sunday morning, just when I was really feeling the immense weight of all the ugliness going on, this newsletter from Robert Reich showed up in my mailbox, confirming my Auntie Rachel's wisdom and reminding me that my activism is also a form of self-care. So, as much as I love my Doomer friends, I guess I'm not quite ready to join their camp yet.

Expectations

If you’re a regular subscriber to Letters From A Canadian, you’re probably aware that I tend to post some of the (many) emails I send to Republican senators, as well as their responses, and my responses to their responses on Facebook. To my delight, a lot of people who comment on these posts seem to also be emailing their senators on the regular, joining me in making a mighty ruckus. However, many of those commenting say things like, “I just get auto-replies” or “He’s lying” or “They all say that”… Honestly, do we even expect anything different from these ultra right-wing hateful, bootlicking Republicans? These guys (and they are mainly guys) have a lifetime of fervently believing in white supremacy, misogyny, trickle-down theory, and all kinds of nasty ideologies. If we expect them to suddenly agree with us once we've clearly explained how their policies are cruel, corrupt, unconstitutional and deeply immoral, then we are bound to be extremely disappointed. While I am always hopeful for the miracle of Republican enlightenment courtesy of one of my many letters, I have zero expectations from these senators. If I do happen to receive a response, I can bask in the knowledge that I am using up some of their time and energy (or, at least their staff's time and energy) and that feels like a small win. Often, I receive the auto response, blah, blah, blah which I just ignore. But sometimes I get actual responses addressing my concerns, usually full of utter bullshit which, obviously, requires a lengthy reply where I call out their lies and nonsense. I feel morally obligated to continually remind them that we are not falling for their lies and they must do better.

Expectations are a funny thing, and they often get in the way of getting shit done. I don't think I'd write a single email, or attend a single protest if I was counting on immediate results from my demands. Sometimes when I read the auto-responses spewing lies and bullshit, I find that I can easily slip back into despair, wondering why I'm even bothering. Then I remember that I'm taking to time to speak out against fascism because it is the right thing to do. I remember that, if we remain silent, they will take this all the way, and we know what that looks like from other fascist governments. I remember that I wish people spoke up against the Nazis. I remember that I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't at least try to do something to slow or stop the cruelty. I remember that my kids are watching me and I need them to know that I tried to make this world a better place. I remember that if enough of us find our voices and, together, are too loud to ignore, we are more powerful than they are. If, by some miracle, my (our) actions wear the bastards down and lead to a change of heart or change of policy (and all progressive policy change has always come from noisy members of the public), then it will be a very happy surprise, indeed. It is always the goal, but never the expectation.

With love & solidarity,

Jessica

Blessed be the gardeners who make our community so beautiful and vibrant and joyful.