Holding Space for Activism

Dawn Legona McDonald, self-described "accidental activist" had this to say on Huffington Post:

"For many of us this new foray into political advocacy has not been without its negative consequences. Friends have been lost over differences of opinion. Family lives have been upturned because Mom has a new "job." We've had to learn how to hold space for our activism without allowing it to damage us emotionally - something that is a constant challenge." 
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dawn-slegona-mcdonald/the-reality-of-an-acciden_b_3224289.html

  

Ms. McDonald's cause is gun reform, an issue close to the hearts of Lucy Lefters.  Of all the  points she made in the piece, here's the one that led me to some deep reflection:  "We've had to learn how to hold space for our activism without allowing it to damage us emotionally— something that is a constant challenge."

 

I sometimes feel emotionally damaged during or after intense periods of activism.  Damage also can manifest as physical weariness—exhaustion if I'm not really careful.  I usually begin some new advocacy by promising myself to be less emotionally involved.  Keep it cerebral, right?  I don't live life exclusively on the intellectual plane—so how can I not get emotionally involved in an issue or election that matters to me? 

 

Emotional fallout sometimes exacts a steep toll, a state of turmoil.   A cocktail of anger, judging, regret, disappointment and even depression.   I felt all those things after Mark Sanford was returned to Congress by voters who had a rare, rich opportunity and blew it.  Elizabeth Colbert Busch would have made a far superior member of Congress.  After the heartbreaking results were in,  I questioned the accuracy of the voting machines.  The margin made no sense.  After I wore that question out,  I questioned whether I'd done everything I could to help Elizabeth win.  The answer is we probably never do everything we could.  I did send money, not a lot but more than my resources allowed.  And I posted supportive messages on Facebook and blogged and made friends crazy with e-mail overkill.  Will you vote for her?   Will you contact every human you know in that district and tell them about Elizabeth?  (I got in touch with a cousin in Mon-freaking-tana because she had lived in Charleston; she was more than willing to contact friends and former colleagues there.)  Just before the election I sent a reminder that every vote would be critical; "please be sure you and everyone you know gets to the polls."  I included a link to polling places. 

On election day I could have stood as close to a polling place as the law would allow, holding up a Colbert Busch sign; I could have expanded my calling and messaging to strangers by phone banking—and I'd rather have a root canal than do the latter.  There's always, always more we can do.  And a whole lot of people did a whole lot more.   They have my respect.  Many times I've been one of those people—losing sleep, not seeing a healthful meal for weeks and weeks, living an insanely passionate and single-focused life.  A life that can't be sustained.  Balance must be restored or we flame out. 

 

So, what I've learned over a lifetime of political involvement and passionate advocacy is this:  I have to set limits.  I have to.  I "hold the space" for activism, and I take care of myself first.  Took a long time to learn I simply have to do that.  There's a reason the flight attendant tells us grownups to put the oxygen masks on before we attend to the children.  We simply have to save ourselves, care for ourselves; otherwise, we can't be effective in our activism for sustained periods of time.  I said "we" here.  You might be stronger, more focused, less emotional.  You might be able to do far more than I can.  And that's wonderful.  Good causes need all the voices they can get.  And all the workers who are willing and able.  

Sometimes mine will be one of the voices.  At certain times I'll be able to work harder than at other times.  The difference is my intentional commitment to take better care of myself.  Not to say "yes" when I need to say "no."   "Yes" is the word my mouth is more comfortable forming.   So,  I have to use all the self-discipline I can muster not to say it.  I do what I can—often not in highly visible ways—for the causes or candidates that compel me to act.  And I still "backslide" and put more of myself into the activism, get more emotionally invested, than is good for my health and well-being.  I no longer do all I can; I do what I can in order to maintain some semblance of balance in my life. 

 

A source of great satisfaction for me now is encouraging and affirming other activists.  I enjoy cheering them on as they make me very proud—giving themselves, free of charge, to whatever causes just might make things better.  Let's hear it for the activists, y'all.  Give them a hug or a kind word when you can.  Or, better yet, a home-cooked meal!