A few questions you can ask yourself on hopeless days

For today and future days when you are reminded that your country wasn't built on a foundation of love and care

Note: I’ve written a lot of newsletters on bad news days. I’ve written in response to shootings and massacres and dispiriting elections and insurrections. Like a lot of other folks who try to make meaning of those moments, I often end up giving declarative advice. Today the news is about the overturning of Roe vs. Wade, a decision that was said to be made in the name of life but will cause a great deal of death and despair.

There will be a LOT of declarative advice given to and by those of us who are upset about this decision. Since we knew this was coming, a lot of that declarative advice has already been written. Heck, I’ve already written my version of it. You will be told to go to a protest or donate to abortion funds or elect Democrats or not elect Democrats. You will be told to get off the Internet or stay on the Internet, to not get into arguments with relatives or to pick as many fights as possible. Some of that advice will be good, some of it will be bad, but all of it will eventually lead you to the same place… “now what?”

Here’s the great things about questions though. Questions beget more questions. Questions help you move forward. Questions might surprise you when you discover exactly what direction you’re moving. And, since we live in an era of interconnectedness and computers that allow us to open up a search bar and type in “abortion funds in my area” or “who is working on flipping the state legislature in Wyoming?” or "grassroots progressive organizing in Indiana,” questions aren’t ephemeral. They’re practical.

So today, in case they are useful, here are some questions that help me on days like this.

Also, my apologies to international readers. Today’s post is very U.S.-centric, inspired by a U.S. Supreme Court decision and U.S. politics in general. I hope it is applicable for the more frustrating days in your corner of the globe as well.

What would it feel like to live in a country where you never doubted that you were cared for, protected, valued and seen?

What would it feel like to live in a country where every single person you loved felt that same care, that same visibility, that same protection?

When did you first realize that you didn’t actually grow up being taught to care for and love every member of your community equally?

When did you first realize that whatever messages you were taught about care and love and empathy for all were so frequently drowned out by messages that life is a competition, that there are winners and losers, and that the goal is for you and yours alone to be the winners?

When did you first learn that others’ care for you was limited and conditional?

Who in your own life has helped you expand your definition of care? Who has helped you imagine more expansively what interconnectedness looks like?

Have you let them know that they helped you dream bigger and love harder?

How can you thank them?

How can you help them?

When you think about all the (increasingly larger and larger) holes in our country’s patchwork of care and concern, who is helping mend them? Who is providing direct care?

How can you thank them?

How can you help them?

When you think about the larger rot and ache in our country that created and sustains those holes, who is doing the work of building something different, of challenging the political and cultural reality and organizing disconnected people who are dreaming of something better into an organized force pushing for something better?

How can you thank them?

How can you help them?

What are the parts of your country, your state, your community where you assume people will never actually care for everybody, where you assume that there will always be pre-conditions for care based on race or gender or sexual orientation or class?

Who is doing the work of building something different in those places?

How can you thank them?

How can you help them?

When you feel sad and alone and hopeless and hollow and angry and sad, what do you need to keep going?

Who can you ask for help?

How can you let them know that you need some help?

How can you accept that help?

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