With Outrageous Hope & Unrelenting Anger

the dance of being human in 2024

Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash

Hello friends,

I’m writing to you today with such deeply human emotion that it’s almost laughable. Today I feel the realities of outrageous hope and unrelenting anger, as shared in the title, and I wonder if any of you are, too.

There is so much happening around us and in us lately, so many terrifying aspects of being human in 2024—COVID outbreaks, genocide in Palestine, more threats of war, human rights abuses, book bans, racist mascots in the Super Bowl, and, oh yes, America’s upcoming election, which is already feeling catastrophic on many levels.

My work right now is a lot of reading and processing, with writing here and there for a few new projects. And in this stage, there are lots of questions and lots of reminders that I am not alone in my questions.

This last week, I finished reading Go Back Where You Came From by columnist and public speaker Wajahat Ali.

The book is an important, searing and realistic, sometimes comedic telling of what it’s like being a Pakistani Muslim American in the 21st century. It was published in 2022, and processes the years of the COVID pandemic, Trump’s presidency, and so much more of America’s white supremacist legacy.

And the book also ends with immense hope. Below are a few sections from the last chapter of the book, and I want you to just sit with these three sections individually, slowly, letting them sink in, because they convey the range of emotions I so often feel:

“I realized that people, even those who have atrocious politics, can still have the capacity for decency and kindness. I firmly believe most people still have the desire to do good in this world. I often remind myself of this because I look on so much of the cruelty and ugliness and say, ‘Nope. I can never forgive or forget. There’s not hope. People won’t change.’ But I remember that, sometimes, some people do change.”

“When I’m truly idealistic, I hope to be a gardener. Maybe through whatever small talents I might have, I can plant a seed. Hopefully, my children’s generation can find comfort in its shade. If I have a green thumb, maybe my work bears some delicious fruits.”

“The challenge for America is whether or not it will live up to its narrative of being a sanctuary, a haven for all, a place where anyone can come and achieve success or freedoms.”

I remind us a lot here that we are more than our labels, that we are capable of holding multitudes, complex in more ways than we can imagine and yes, that means even in our beliefs about ourselves and one another.

So, is it truly possible to be extremely hopeful and extremely angry?

Yes. I believe so, and here's why.

I cannot stay only hopeful forever.

And anger is not sustainable for body, mind, or spirit.

The two must act as partners in a dance, constantly lulling us back and forth, reminding us of the other’s importance and essence. When we have too much hope and forget why we fight for a better world, our anger steps in. When we are so angry that our bodies and minds begin holding up red flags and demanding rest, hope shows up and reminds us of the power of love, kinship, and solidarity.

One with the other, always.

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash

So, I invite us to examine how this dance shows up in our lives in 2024. As a writer, this partnership demands my attention in subtle and not to subtle ways:

I step away from social media to focus on my mental health and my writing, and I step back in to remember that I don’t do this work alone and there are others to hold up.

I listen to the news knowing that our media outlets cannot always be trusted, and I cry at the horrors of the world while I chop up vegetables at the kitchen island to remember that care matters.

I check in with friends, fellow writers, and activists who are tired and wondering how to sustain this work, and we lament together, laugh together, while we make plans for a better world.

I remember who I am as a Potawatomi woman fighting in a world dominated by colonialism, and I dance between hope and anger every single day, not letting one consume the other, not letting either consume me.

Outrageous Hope and Unrelenting Anger.

Photo by Sdf Rahbar on Unsplash

So I want to tell you a little story.

There’s a couple at our climbing gym who just exudes hope in my eyes. They show up ready to climb with so much joy and excitement it’s tangible. They are ready, and despite their fears to climb up on these big walls, they smile and laugh. Climbing can be a huge mental game, and remembering that we can face that together is alway encouraging.

They cheer one another on without abandon, they yell from the ground up to their friends climbing. If you climb with them, you are never climbing alone.

So recently I decided to go and tell them how much I appreciate them, the energy they bring to our space, the aura of fun and joy that radiates from them. And as I was speaking, I had to keep myself from crying.

I wrapped up talking with them quickly, wiping the beginnings of tears from the corners of my eyes before they could see, because it really takes something this simple to do it for me.

I just wanted someone to know that their joy matters and reminds others to have joy, and when I think about it, I’m still brought to tears.

I’m brought to tears over the power of a story, over a nourishing meal, over a connection between body and earth.

And I’m brought to tears over injustice and pain, over the fragmenting of our souls and the dehumanization of our neighbors like what Wajahat writes about in his book. Tears over all of it.

So even our tears hold the capacities of our hope and anger, reminding us of the dance between the two, reminding us that we need to let go and wait for the world to show up and teach us who we are and who we could be.

So here’s what I’d like us to do in 2024:

1. keep crying

2. keep reading stories

3. keep entering into relationships that change you and care for you

4. keep listening to Mother Earth

5. let yourself be angry

6. let yourself have some hope

7. trust the dance between the two

8. remember and relish complexity

Let’s keep the dance going, friends, so that we can hold space as continue into this year, whatever it holds.