The funny thing is, as I sit down to begin this post, I’m feeling pretty low and pessimistic. It is possible I write this to remind myself why I do…anything at all in advocacy/activism areas.
This notion began a few months ago as I listened to my daily diet of political podcasts. This one pod featured some female activists; I cannot remember what they worked on—Women’s March? Some random state election? My brain just cannot remember. The interviewer asked how these women kept up the energy and motivation to keep on keepin’ on. One of the interviewees stated that activists/advocates are optimists by default—how else would they have the wherewithal to continue “The Fight”. (Not the actual quote, just the gist.)
This struck a nerve for me. As I’ve spent the past 18+ months doing stuff with my local Indivisible, I’ve often thought all the marching and whatnot is just useless. The political, no, wait…the cultural climate in America is too awful now. My natural darkness leads me to think we are on the brink of another civil war. I hope not, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Shortly after the election, I joined a few groups trying to bridge divides, but I gave up on them. My lack of patience and lack of spoons (see note at bottom on “spoons”) means I refuse to allocate my time on something I think will not work. So how is that I continue to get up, keep up, keep going to meetings, keep thinking about the issues?
Could I be—GASP—an optimist? Clutch the pearls! I mean, how much electronic ink have I spilled on this blog moaning about how I just hate all this “think positive” crap? I mean, look at what I call myself for heaven’s sake! It is NOT an accident—I really am a Curmudgeon, and not just about cancer.
But wait, hold up. I’ve also said that yes, I am a cynic—and cynics are just (bitterly) disappointed romantics.
I’ve found an uncomfortable amount of parallels in the political activism world to CancerLand. The drive to “be positive”, to use “fun” activities to get attention, for starters, are the same. And like in breast cancer, my point of view is: nope, this is horrible and we should shout out our anger. I’m not good with the “attracting more flies with honey than vinegar” thing. (Attract even MORE flies with shit, just saying.)
But the thing that has been knocking me for a loop lately is that even though I think nearly all is lost, I still get up each day and “fight”. I tweet, I go to meetings, I stay informed, I trained to be an official voter registration person—though I’ve yet had the free time to do an event. I have a murky relationship with hope, so I have no idea how or why I keep on keepin’ on—because I’m not sure it is hope that I have, exactly.
It is the same with this whole cancer advocacy thing, I guess. I still write this blog, though it may be sporadically. I still “believe”. Well, believe is a strong word. Maybe, more like….I am still willing to bang my head with a 2×4, in the hopes cancer culture will change, than all the things I find abhorrent—the forced positivity, the warrior language, the celebrities, blah blah blah—will if not disappear, will cease being the dominant narrative.
I haven’t been good at activism or advocacy on any front lately. Too busy, too scattered after the dumb car accident, too jittery. Too tired—always. I go to my “safe place”, I watch cat videos—the REAL reason the Interwebz was invented. I slowly get better. I get back at it.
No, no one can mistake me for an optimist exactly. But something forces me to continue trying. Probably the same thing that made me a cynic.
Note: Spoonie theory.