Everything is Tumultuous

Yet We Will Persist

Hello, dear Carrying Capacity readers. Thank you for persisting in this chaotic world.

Cloudy with green shoots. A pond in the Flathead Valley, Montana. (Author photo)

I have been away for a couple of months for predictable reasons: campus commitments, family drama, writing deadlines, and a few medical issues thrown into the mix. I know that many of you have been experiencing similar challenges. And we have been bearing these burdens on top of the crushing psychological weight of governmental and judicial betrayal. I wanted to write to you after the Voting Rights Act was slashed, but I had nothing productive to say. I was heartbroken by the reality of our situation. An older relative commented that they had seen Civil Rights come in, and they never thought they would see the day when Civil Rights went out. It has only been one lifespan since we have had a fully protected right to vote. I’m glad my grandmother is no longer here to see this moment. She was born in the nineteen-teens, and she used to comment about outliving the racist governor of Alabama, George Wallace, who blocked those children from going to school and had an undignified natural end. She believed the Lord works in mysterious ways. She also believed in eventual justice. But I suppose “eventual” is always off in the distance when timelines of expectation are stretched.

I do not have uplifting words today. All I can do is witness for myself and for us how hard it is to be in this, watching unwarranted war, bottomless corruption, extreme cruelty, shameless vainglory, and an utterly ineffective defense of democratic norms and principles.

So many people I know, and you know, are facing financial difficulty even if they are (or once were) in economically stable positions – the loss of jobs, the loss of health insurance, the diminishment of public aid, and the abiding anxiety of what the future of work holds. Black Women have been hit especially hard by disproportionate job loss in 2025 and 2026. A faith leader friend keyed into multiple spiritual traditions continues to think that this world we know is splintering, which means we will have the duty and responsibility to rebuild it from the ground up. In way, this is an honor, but honor comes with costs.

Touching ground still stabilizes me. I take satisfaction in weeding (like my grandmother; she couldn’t walk past a weed and not pull it). I also take to heart the suggestions of Nate Hagens, the scientist whose podcast (The Great Simplification) I mention here often. He urges listeners to form and strengthen circles of support in the places where they live, made up of people who have similar understandings of the cataclysmic changes taking place and can talk honestly about what they see, developing plans for mutual aid and values protection as society deteriorates. I do think we should expect worsening conditions – further disruptions to systems and norms as everything and everyone reacts to the pressure of unpredictability and psychic pain of blatant corruption and betrayal.

I am sorry to say this, but I think we must choose to be among the ones who can still see, or hear, or stand, or sit up tall as the chaos continues. We can’t predict the trouble that will result from current policies, nor the trouble that will flow from the next ones. However, we can do our best to expect disorder and imagine how we will enact daily practices of resilience. Here are ideas for what that practice might entail.

Our Aussie puppy who is so darn cute even with my almost-ready-to-bloom Iris in his mouth. (Photo by N. Gone)

*Gather. Form circles of mutual support with people we trust. Talk about what is happening. Say aloud how we will pledge to be there for each other as/if things worsen. (For an inspirational guide to gathering, see anthropologist Ashanté M. Reese’s new book.)

*Be with nature. Many of these relatives are wiser than us. Spend time outside. Talk to a tree. Walk on grass. Garden. Take responsibility for protecting whatever little bit of natural habitat (land, water, air) you have access to.

*Vibe with animals — not just the human ones. Animals are honest. They remind us of basic needs and relations. And they can lower blood pressure, too.

*Shape independent work. Recently, a colleague reminded me that I advised the pursuit of alternative income streams in this space months ago. I think we should keep trying to do that as jobs are erased by economic volatility, AI, and anti-DEI vendettas. It is time to experiment with new forms of income generation and resource sharing. It still takes money to live, and the sources we have relied on are shrinking or disappearing.

*Make art. Creativity can refresh our senses of self, remind us of our shared experiences as humans, and help us make sense of swirling circumstances. A friend recently wrote a lovely little book, published a small batch of copies, and sent them to people who had supported her through tough times. What a special gift. Reading her story boosted my mood this month.

*Archive and collect. We are witnessing a high-level effort to erase facts about the past and dismiss the complexity of history. In the face of this onslaught, we need to think like the Black bibliophiles, librarians, and club women of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries – as though the preservation of history depends on us. Save documents, images, and ephemera in your orbit. Back up data for projects you work on. Expand your personal and organizational libraries. Recover lost and scattered collections. (For inspiration, see the Robert and Catharine Morris library project at Boston College and the Schomburg Center’s 100th anniversary events.)

Authors Koritha Mitchell, Christy Pottroff, Ilyon Woo, and me at the Texts and Textiles symposium organized by Professor Pottroff and her graduate students at BC. The banner featuring Catharine and Robert Morris in their home library is an example of making art – drawn by Christy Pottroff, a self-taught illustrator.

*Support independent media. This is surely one of the most important places to put our pennies. The political danger of a propagandized populace is real. If you are super rich, please invest heavily in alternative media outlets and new, politically independent social media platforms.

*Vote. We cannot succumb to electoral hopelessness. We must all vote. I see only two ways out of this hell: huge masses of Americans getting into the streets and peacefully protesting or huge masses of Americans voting for change. Likely, we will need both.

*Imagine all scenarios. Think about what we will do (concrete actions) if this current government falters in the midterms or falls in 2028. And think about what we will do if the opposite happens. With a long-game perspective, what might we have to slog through? How will we endure it? How can we find joy despite it? And what can we (or our children or grandchildren) build on the other side?

In the spirit of creativity, a few friends and I have been designing happy journals and guides that boost our spirits, and we hope, the spirits of others. If you’re interested, see here: Camp Dissertation (a writing guide), Church Mother, Testify! (a journal for church women), Girl, What’s the Word? (a journal for friends), and more. I hope they brighten your day!

(Cover art by Alyssa Napier. Cover photo by Lucy Jackson.)

Have a memory-keeper’s Memorial Day!

(My editor has been out for this one. Please pardon my mistakes.)