Hope in a Season of Hate
Photo by Kayra Siddik on Unsplash
When it hurts to talk, you start to choose your words more carefully; when every utterance is a strain, you start to realize how many words aren’t worth saying at all. Instead, you start to listen more, think more, and save your comments for when it really matters. I think every human should have laryngitis at least once a year, so they get that very important reminder: just because you had the thought, doesn’t mean it’s worth saying.
As I write these words, I'm on my second day of not being able to speak easily. At first, I joked that I sounded like a cartoon mouse, but now I know that as humorous as my mouse alter ego is, if I don’t stay silent, I will never properly heal. Fortunately for me I am a writer and feel more comfortable writing out my thoughts anyway, but it is still difficult to make it through the day without a voice.
It made me think about the times that I have said too much. Or the times I spoke well but wasn’t heard because even when we have the ability to speak, it doesn’t mean we are communicating. Furthermore, even when we speak well, it doesn’t mean anyone is listening.
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I wrote those words several weeks ago when I was sick with laryngitis, but I’ve been thinking about them a lot this week. I’m not sure what your hopes were for this election, but I will be honest - as I always strive for authenticity in my writing - that when I woke up Wednesday morning I cried. I cried tears of despair. Tears of fear. Tears of hopelessness as I think about what the future brings. So, after several days of listening, reading, watching, and holding my tongue, I am now choosing these words very carefully.
I write this knowing that many of my readers woke up Wednesday celebrating. If you were one of those people, then this post is not for you this morning. I say that because I am not writing these words to engage in debate over who should have won. If you disagree with me then let’s talk about it sometime, in person, when our hearts and minds are in a place of openness and love. Having just gotten what you wanted, you may be in a place to have that conversation today, but I am not. Today, I am still grieving. So read on if you want a glimpse into what others are feeling right now, in fact, I encourage you to do so. But then I beg you to hold your tongue.
For those who find themselves, like me, feeling at a loss for what to say or do next, this is my way of reaching out and letting you know that you are not alone. I was inspired to do this by Brene Brown who posted her own message of hope this morning. These words were the hug that I needed. They made me feel like I was not alone and so before I share any more of my thoughts, I want you to be able to read hers:
“Despair is a claustrophobic feeling. It’s the emotion that says, nothing will ever change. It’s different than anger or sadness or grief. Despair is twinged with hopelessness.
People who subscribe to power-over leadership often weaponize despair. They count on people giving up on themselves, their work, and each other. I get it. I’m looking at people I know with suspicion. I’m questioning the value of my work. I’m wondering if courage, kindness, and caring for each other simply don’t matter anymore. I’m desperate for someone to blame because blame is an effective way to discharge pain and it gives us a sense of counterfeit control.
The research shows that hope is a powerful antidote to despair. What’s interesting, however, is that hope is not an emotion (C.R. Snyder). Hope is a cognitive-behavioral process. It’s about having a goal, a pathway to achieve that goal, and a sense of agency or I can do this.
Right now, the thing that is helping the most is micro-dosing hope. I have no access to big hope right now, however, I am asking myself how I can support the people around me. The people on my team, in my community. How can I make sure that, in the maelstrom of my emotions, I stay committed to courage, kindness, and caring for others regardless of the choices made by others? Doing the smallest next right thing is hard AF, but sometimes it’s all we got.”
-Brene Brown, November 8, 2024
Hang in there. We cannot control the world around us, but we can control what we say and do. If you cannot say kind words this week then don’t say them at all. If you cannot love your neighbor when you see what they post on social media, then stop looking at their posts. Do what you need to do to be able to keep loving everyone. For me, a “micro-dose” of hope starts with the small act of not letting my emotions turn me into someone who hates people. So, I will continue to hate the actions of people. I will continue to hate the oppression. I will continue to hate the misogyny, sexism, racism, antisemitism, transphobia, homophobia, and xenophobia. I will continue to hate the lies, but I will strive with every fiber of my being to not hate the liar.
