Letter 21: Intentional Choices
Letter 21: Intentional Choices
When we are called to action
Happy Wednesday, readers! Emily and I don’t take your weekly reading of this newsletter lightly. Our daily conversations with each other are often marked with our gratitude for your continued support, alongside the awe we feel toward our brave contributors. Today’s piece by Emily Fleming is right up there. (She has shared her heart so well here, here and here, as well.)
Today, Emily asks us to consider what stirs us deeply and how we choose to act on those feelings. Hers is an important reminder in these often-frenetic days of firehose news and opinions.
Recently I’ve been processing the onslaught of news about the US military’s final withdrawal from Afghanistan as a combat veteran personally involved in our conflict there; updates about Hurricane Ida and its effects on my friends and family; stories about the Texas abortion ban as it affects healthcare providers and the women we care for; and the barrage of details about this never-ending pandemic and the surging Delta variant, which I am fighting firsthand as an emergency physician in a county with a 42% vaccination rate. It’s a lot, really. And there is so much more that I’ve heard about and been stirred by, but just haven’t had the capacity to dwell upon.
There is an unspoken expectation on social media that we comment on current events as they play out. As soon as a crisis reaches mainstream awareness, we must form an opinion and voice it immediately, or risk coming across as tone deaf and out of touch. Thus everyone becomes an activist.
I have heard this kind of internet activism described in two ways: reactionary and performative. Reactionary, because we are provoked by the crisis at hand to act immediately, to speak out, to let the world know where we stand. Performative, because all too often, the activism ends with a post on social media. We fail to work toward sustainable change, because it’s all simply too much.
It’s easy to share an instagram post, but much harder to actually affect change. And there is real pressure to speak out about issues as they come up, because silence is perceived as apathy.
Just for fun, I placed a question box in my Instagram stories a few weeks ago: “What is an assumption you have about me?” I remember bristling when I saw a comment that read something like (and I’m paraphrasing here): “you don’t care about what is happening to those affected by the current crisis in Palestine.” I remember feeling guilty for a moment, that I had marginalized another human being by failing to publicly address something that deeply and directly affected that follower. After processing the information for a bit, I began to settle into the truth that no one person can publicly and effectively address every crisis that arises.
Our shared humanity makes us empathetic toward the plights of our neighbors all over the world, but maybe it is unreasonable to expect that we will be moved to fix—or even address—them all. Before the internet made global communication the norm, we focused on the problems that arose within our communities, largely because we didn’t know about all the others.
Injustices are happening all over, every day. Thanks to the internet, now we all know about every single one of them, in real time. But I would submit that this does not obligate us to play whack-a-mole with crisis. Each of us will be affected by each of these injustices differently, and you may feel passionately about a crisis that fails to stir me the way it does you. And that is okay.
We are at risk of drowning in bad news. Headlines that tell of the tragedy that befalls our brothers and sisters all over the world are flashing before our eyes at an overwhelming rate. It is too easy to let the grief and guilt make you feel helpless and frustrated.
A more sustainable approach to activism is to allow ourselves to be driven by the pursuits that deeply stir in us a desire to act. We all have different passions, all equally worthy and altruistic. May we allow those passions to drive us to action, rather than mere reaction. And may we link up with others with similar passions, to multiply our efforts and turn one person’s ripple into a collective wave. I have to believe that this is how we will be more successful in generating lasting change.
“What the trap of reactionary activism does, worst of all, is lead us to isolate ourselves, and to hold the weight of the world on our own shoulders and in our own hearts. We begin to shrink ourselves and hold tension in our individual bodies, thinking that we can only depend on our individual capacities to learn and to process what is happening. We must resist the urge to individualise the work, and we must reach to each other.”
Words by Bad Activist Collective member, @tammy_online
Emily’s 5 Fall Favorites
Much of my life has been spent in climates that didn’t really get a fall season. I grew up in Florida, and spent the better part of the last decade in Texas. Medical school in Chicago was the notable exception, and now in Montana, I get to dress for cooler temperatures in September. This thrills me no end, and I could not be more basic about it: boots and sweaters are the mainstays of my fall wardrobe. I invested in Frye riding boots several years ago, and though they’re in desperate need of resoling, I still wear them constantly. I love a good, soft sweater too. Cashmere is wonderful, of course, but this boyfriend cardigan from Target has been bringing me joy as well.
We think of Christmas movies and summer blockbusters as categories of seasonal films, but often fall’s flicks are overlooked. Some of the movies that get me really ready for fall include: Silver Linings Playbook, Dan in Real Life, and You’ve Got Mail. I’d love to know yours.
Fall has become synonymous with all things pumpkin spice. While I’m always good for one or two PSL’s during the season, I’m a firm believer that apple is actually where it’s at. See below for my grandmother’s famous apple pie recipe. It’s a fan favorite, and you’ll find yourself warmed through with the very first bite.
We’ve only been in Montana a year, so I’m still relatively new to hiking on a regular basis. Even so, fall has become my favorite season in which to hike. The cooler temperatures make the whole experience even more delightful, and the leaves on the trees provide even more beauty for you to take in. Add in the absence of bugs, and you’ve got something truly transcendent. A few of my local favorites are linked here and here, and this one we did last weekend is also a winner.
My thumb has never been what you would call “green”. I’ve struggled for years to get things to grow, but it seems I was just in the wrong climate. Zone 5 gardening is my jam. This spring, I planted dahlia tubers. I don’t think I can fully describe to you the joy those flowers have brought me this fall. My gardener friends tell me it’s always a mad race to get your dahlias up and blooming before the first frost, and now I get it. I know these blooms are a limited time offer, and that makes them even more precious.
Mary Margaret’s Apple Crumb Pie
Slice 4-5 (large, if using smaller apples, just use more!) pared apples into a 9” pastry-lined pie pan.
Sprinkle with a mixture of 1 tsp. cinnamon and ½ cup sugar.
Sift together: ½ cup sugar, ¾ cup flour. Cut in ⅓ cup salted butter using a pastry blender.
Spoon the butter mixture over the apples.
Bake at 450° for 10 minutes, then turn down to 325° until golden brown and done (about 40 minutes in my oven).
In gratitude,
Emily Fleming
P.S. Some other letters similar to Emily’s to read and share: dealing with uncertainty, recognizing obstacles we’ve overcome and making space for the things that nourish us.
