Photo by StockSnap via Pixabay
A World in Crisis
I begin this with a heavy heart as I witness the turmoil unfolding in our world: Israel has bombed Iran, escalating tensions into what may become a full-scale Middle East war. In Los Angeles, a California senator was unlawfully arrested while attempting to question the Secretary of Homeland Security. President Trump staged a show of authoritarian force with a military-style parade in Washington, D.C., and unlawfully called out the National Guard in Los Angeles. Immigrants are being arrested at work, and even small children are being detained. A Minnesota state legislator and her husband were assassinated.
Closer to home, here in San Francisco's Mission District, vandals broke into “Maney’s,” a cherished community gathering space, scrawling vile antisemitic graffiti—an ugly contradiction to the Bay Area’s legacy of acceptance and respect for diversity. These acts underscore a rising tide of hatred and division that threatens the very fabric of our society.
Rejecting Apathy
It would be easy to slide into despair—or to simply shrug and say, “This doesn’t concern me.” But I know neither response is right for me. I recently received a sticker from an organization I support. It reads: “Apathy is NOT an option.” That message resonates deeply. To be apathetic is to betray my belief in justice, equality, and the moral obligation to act in the face of discrimination and injustice.
Redefining Hope
I’ve just finished reading the updated edition of Hope in the Dark by Rebecca Solnit. In it, she powerfully reframes hope—not as naïve optimism, but as a commitment to possibility, to action, and to the belief that our efforts matter, even when the outcomes remain unknown. She describes hope as grounded in uncertainty—not despite it, but because of it. It is uncertainty that opens the space for change.
The Power of Collective Resistance
Solnit reminds us that transformative victories have come from movements born out of this kind of hope. She insists that popular power has always been a force for change. Authoritarianism thrives in silence and complacency; it falters when it meets collective resistance. That’s why hope must fuel our participation in protests, our organizing, our advocacy—in all the ways we stand against injustice, from deportations and detentions to assaults on democracy itself.
Many of us protested on “No Kings Day.” Experts estimate that over five million people took to the streets across the country. This massive act of public resistance stood in stark contrast to Trump’s militarized spectacle—a show of power intended to instill fear and submission. But hope propelled us forward.
Learning from History
We don’t always know the outcome of our actions. But history shows us that even small efforts, sustained over time, can lead to powerful change. Women stood in the rain, endured prison, and agitated for more than seventy-five years before the 19th Amendment granted them the right to vote. Early efforts for LGBTQ rights seemed to make little headway until the riots at Stonewall in the late 1960s catalyzed a national movement that led, decades later, to marriage equality.
Grief and Hope Can Coexist
We grieve the erosion of our democracy, the silencing of dissent, the stripping away of protections for equality, justice, education, health, and the environment. We mourn the dismantling of federal support for vulnerable families and children. And yet, in this grief, hope gives us room to act. It reminds us that what we do still matters. It sustains our commitment to democracy and fuels resistance.
Stories That Light the Way
Change is never guaranteed to be for the better. But stories from our past give us strength: the Civil Rights Movement in the American South; the fall of the Berlin Wall; the victory of Polish dock workers; the end of apartheid in South Africa. These were not sudden or easy wins—they were hard-fought struggles led by people who acted with courage and hope, without certainty, and with unwavering commitment to a better future.
Change is rarely permanent or complete. It often comes in tiny or partial victories. But even dormant seeds of hope can rouse the sleeping giant of public will.
Carrying Hope Forward
In this uncertain time, let us carry hope as a lantern—lighting the way, however dimly, through the darkness of our shared future.
What can we do, what can we do?
Well, we can invest in hope – shares of companies that work in water purification, repairs to the electrical grid, alternative energy production – and then give them to the next generation. We can undermine the agenda the way the Italians did during their fascist regime. The way the colonists did during our own British occupation before and during the American Revolution ( “why do you never find enough hay for our horses?!”). We can pester everyone in government about SS and Medicare until they stagger under the weight of it all.
Have good ideas and spread them around.
I’m completely aligned with everything you shared in your post. I stay actively engaged and informed, and I make it a point to talk with people from all walks of life. What I’ve realized is that we definitely don’t live in an enlightened bubble here in SF. I’ve been genuinely surprised—honestly, a bit shocked—by how many disengaged and misinformed voters there are in the city, including quite a few Trump supporters.
I’m going hyperlocal now and taking time to really get to know my neighbors. Wherever I am, I share my thoughts and actively engage people on political topics. Through all this, I’ve developed much more compassion for how we’re all just trying to cope with everything.
I was really impressed by Sarah McBride’s insights in her interview with Ezra Klein (https://youtu.be/KlbNFsAGFRc?si=N9aW-deLcN1dT0QT). More than anyone else I’ve heard recently, she gave me actionable steps that genuinely broaden my perspective and offer real hope.
Thanks for your recommendation of Ezra Klein’s interview of Sarah McBride. I began listening to it this morning in my morning exercize routine and have yet to finish it. I like what she is saying and think I want to listen again.
We must simultaneously care for our own wellbeing while committing to doing what we can to be a part of the change that must happen in the world. An exhausted, sick, or dead activist does no one any good. Neither does an exquisitely balanced and well-nurtured passivist (yup, I just made up that word).
No one of us can do everything that needs to be done right now in this deeply troubled world. But we can all – as Michelle Obama urged us – do something. And persist in doing the most effective something that comes to hand given our skills and circumstances. And, along the way, nurture those around us so they have the strength and resilience to do their something.