I haven't found a deeper sense of love this week. I'm afraid and I'm furious and I'm determined. Trump's torrent of terror has rattled many of us to our core. The lives of millions of people are in peril by our fascist government. It's surreal to know at the end of a day that you are warm in bed but that the world outside doesn't feel safe. I have moments of joy—nourishing glasses of golden milk, walks with friends, giggly parties in cramped kitchens—and then moments too of bone-deep despair—rallying in the biting cold, talking on the phone to friends who are afraid they can no longer return home, watching exhaust from traffic pollute the winter air and thinking you can't drink oil

It's okay to feel the overwhelm. Our rage, our frustration, our fear are proof that we are heart full enough to watch autocracy in action and know there's no way in hell we can accept this state-sanctioned violence. 

Resistance is vital. And as I reflect on the first week in this new era, I am coming to realize that resistance is nothing without rebuilding. The world we want can't wait. The stability of our climate can't wait. The security of our Muslim, Latinx, Black, and LGBTQ communities can't wait. And so even though it is frustrating as hell to fight battles we shouldn't have to fight, this is our reality. Trust that it doesn't mean we can't co-create another.

We can see our strength already. When we rallied for our Muslim brothers and sisters at airports across the country, our ferocious energy inspired a federal judge to intervene for justice. The power of the people is greater than the people in power. Those words continue to give me hope even in the heart of so much pain. 

How can you rebuild as you resist?


If you are as terrified as I am about what completion of the pipelines will mean for Native Liberation and a stable climate, do your part to divest from the fossil fuel oligarchy. Join your divestment movement on campus. Switch from petroleum-based plastics to reusable glass (plastics are poisoning our planet and keeping fossil fuel oligarchs in power. Screw that). Help your loved ones make the switch to renewable through Arcadia Power and Solar City. Send your comments on DAPL to the Army Corps. Change will come from the consumer. If we don't want pipelines to decimate our fragile earth and threaten indigenous communities, we have to unapologetically pursue a clean energy economy one home by one home. 

And sign up for the Citizens Climate Lobby. The CCL makes it easy to advocate for political change. You'll receive action items, alerts, and facts. Right now, Trump is orchestrating an executive order blitzkrieg to terrify us into submission. Keep yourself informed. 


Donate to CAIR. Protest at airports. Organize postcard writing parties. An attack on any one of us threatened by Trump's bigoted agenda is an attack on all of us. 

To rebuild community is to reach out. Show up at strategizing sessions for diverse movements. Listen to others. Make it your intention to cultivate spaces that nourish respect, support, and solidarity. Last year, our friends Matilda and Lizzy shared with us their recipe for radical inhabitation. I deeply believe that this kind of experience is integral to rebuilding community as we resist attacks on our collective right to life. 


On a moonlit beach in Point Reyes several ago, the beloved activist Ryan Camero sang a song to several of my friends that he had learned in collaboration with The Beehive Design Collective. I desperately wish I could invite each of you into the memory of that experience—our hands interwoven, the sand against our feet, the silvery moon light—because the line and all of our grievances are connected changed for me how I saw movement building. Trump wants to tear us apart, to antagonize us into isolation. But it's the interconnectedness of our movements that will bring wild, radical change into life. Environmentalism lives at the intersection of social justice; embodying hope emerges at the nexus of collaboration. 


Fear is what will keep Trump in office. Van Jones argued for a Love Army. And even though I'm pretty damn angry, I honor his vision of showing radical love to ourselves, our land, and our communities. It's not always easy—doing anything that's not "actionable" this week has left me anxious. But our embrace of joy in the darkness is a radical act of resistance. We have to continue to find ways to share meals and be in nature and love one another with all of our tender hearts. 

Kate Weiner2 Comments