I used to be a social media hyperactive addict until I deactivated my Facebook account for over a year.Then, when we moved to Tunis I opened a new FB account only so I could learn about upcoming events and cultural activities. I never relapsed, yet with time, I noticed that my account slowly turned into what I had initially ran away from: a plethora of negativity.
That’s expected given what the world looks like today. It’s a fucked up place.
I know it.
My anxiety knows it.
My depression knows it.
But, I don’t want to become apathetic. This is what tyrants count on. I can’t afford not to care because I now have a child. Maybe we shouldn’t have brought a baby into Armageddon, but she’s here now and to live in this world – not only to survive it – we must believe that the seemingly impossible is possible.
Today, maintaining hope is my resistance.
I can’t control the world, but I can dance, sing, hold her and make her feel safe in this age of slaughter. Together, we will resist oppression.
Resistance means believing that no steps are too small.
Resistance is remembering that the personal is political.
Resistance is being proud of our multifaceted identities.
Today, maintaining hope is my resistance. That needs a whole lot of practice.