The Only Party Worth a Damn
Resistance Notes: Engagement, Activism, & Fighting Back
“We are the leaders we are looking for, but what are we leading ourselves to? That is the question we must be asking and the visioning we must be doing on the local level.” — Julia Putnam (41), school principal, black female, Detroit
Of 46 participants, 59% noted upticks in their political engagement and activism. 52% considered themselves part of the “resistance.”
Uptick in engagement & activism in last year: YES/59% NO/30% SAME OR NO ANSWER/11%
Consider themselves party of the “resistance”: YES/52% NO/7% NO ANSWER/19%
Uptick in Engagement & Activism
Several participants declared 2016 to be a profoundly active year. Activities included: phone calls; donating; canvassing/street work; initiating conversations with friends, family, students, and strangers; hosting debate parties; rallies; and social media.
“2016 was by far the most politically active — or at least the most engaged — I’ve been for a presidential election,” wrote a Connecticut writer, white female (61). A New York artist and attorney, white female (56) concurred, listing her actions as having volunteered, attending meetings and protest marches, helping refugees and travelers from six banned countries at JFK and Newark airports, and making protest art. “I have been more politically active in 2016 [&2017] than I have been in my life,” the New York artists and attorney wrote.
Vermont writer Lea Belair, white female (67), said she hasn’t been this active “since the 1960s”. The proof of her renewed energy was in her actions: attended Montpelier Women’s March; joined an Indivisible group, attended lobbying training, and set up a well-attended local book talk.
“I spent the first half of 2017 writing letters and making phone calls to elected officials from my most local to the heads of Senate committees,” wrote Judith (60), a Bronx academic and activist, Jewish white female. But all of that action has led to some burnout: “I’m very tired and disillusioned with the theory that you have to work grassroots from the bottom up.”
Some participants noted continued efforts. A New York small business owner, South Asian female wrote that she’d continue to “participate in town halls, [contact] Congress, [encourage]others to make calls and write to Congress, as well as [participate] on with testimony on specific legislation.” A Memphis professor and writer (45), white female, wrote she would “continue to support the local organizations that resist the policies of this administration but also build positive platforms based on micro, local knowledge.”
“Before the election, I made several anti-Trump buttons,” wrote a New York artist and attorney (56), white female, when asked if active now. “My most recent button is 6 inches in diameter and show Trump as the devil. I wear a button everywhere I go and talk to people who engage with me. After an interesting conversation, I take off my button and give it to whoever has been talking to me. I have had many meaningful conversations this way and have given out more than 500 anti-Trump buttons in New York, Copenhagen, all over Columbia, and San Francisco.”
In Detroit classrooms, writer and teacher Pete Markus, white male, engaged this way: “We reacted to much of the [campaign, post-campaign] hate speech by building our own word walls of love and positive advice to those who might be struggling with the democratic process. Kill the beast with kindness so to speak.”
Several participants noted social media use — posting stories, engaging in conversations — as political activity. Some included social media use among other actions such as attending marches or donating money. But more than one participant described political social media use in self-depreciating terms. A Florida police officer (50), white lesbian, described herself as a “keyboard warrior.” A Dallas corporate manager (47) gay white male, described himself as a “slactavist”. While a Houston Chief Administrative Officer (47) joked: “I mostly limited myself to fights on Facebook with people I don’t know.”
One participant noted an uptick, but also questioned her efficacy: “I was more politically active in 2016 than any year so far, but I don’t think I contributed in a meaningful way,” wrote a Virginia project manager, white female (29). “I participated in Winchester’s Women’s March, which was a super-empowering experience but I didn’t follow-up with any events or groups.”
Some participants noted they wished they could be more involved. “I don’t feel that I am able to be as active as I’d like or that others I highly respect are,” wrote a Houston professor and writer (37), East Asian bi-racial female, queer. “I am working on a PhD and teaching full time. However, I protested for the first time in my life — at the Women’s March in Houston and at the airport in protest of the Travel Ban.” A Virginia manager (48), white female, wrote: “There is so much I get outraged about on a daily basis that I find myself stuck on the question of ‘what can I do?’”
A few participants noted inaction, or have dropped out altogether. When a New Jersey black female was asked about an uptick, she wrote “no, I am paralyzed by disgust, despair, and a growing cynicism.” New York publisher and author Deborah Emin, Episcopalian white female, who volunteered for Dennis Kucinich in 2008, wrote: “I had to throw in the towel on party politics because it had morphed into a Monster’s Ball. We celebrate death, war, and reward those who perpetrate it.” While one participant, a Detroit-born attorney (70), Jewish white male, who has extensively worked for in politics wrote: “Fewer asked [for his help], except for incessant requests for money. You aren’t asked to do a lot, you generally don’t do a lot.”
Resistance
“Resistance” efforts were not defined. Instead, participants were allowed to self-identify, reject, or not answer. A majority and cross-section of participants proclaimed “yes,” they considered themselves resisters of the Trump administration.
“Of course” wrote Bonnie Russell, an independent news producer, white female from California. “Yes!” wrote an Ohio executive (59), black male. Vermont writer Lea Belair (67), white female wrote: “My handmade sign for the Women’s March said ‘Less Suffering More Grace” which I guess sums it up.”
Participants offered more reasons based on convictions and issues. New York dancer and choreographer Kimani, black female wrote: “Yes — always on the side of human rights!” New York professor and writer Carolyn Ferrell (55), black female wrote; “I am part of the resistance in that I believe in pay equality, healthcare for all, climate change, tax reform, education as a birthright, and empathy as a required state of mind for anyone willing to make a successful change.”
A New York actor (48), white female, thought her gender was reason enough: “I’m a woman! A chauvinistic, misogynistic pig is in office. So yes, I do [consider myself part of the resistance]. There are so many of us, and I don’t mean just women, for whom [Trump] does not speak.”
One participant linked his loose ID as “resistance” to calling out Republicans. “I take every opportunity to show people how hypocritical and idiotic the GOP is,” wrote the Houston Chief Administrative Officer (47), white Catholic male. “I guess that means yes [I’m part of the resistance.]”
Two participants wrote speficially that they were not part of the resistance. “I do actively speak up about the poor behavior of Donald Trump,” wrote a Silicon Valley corporate developer (42), Asian male. “But I am not an active member of the resistance.” And Detroit-born attorney (70), white Jewish male wrote: “Not an activist and believe that resistance must be accompanied with what we are for.”
But what should “resistance” mean?
“I consider myself part of ‘the sane,” wrote a Michigan white female (44). “Does that make me part of ‘the resistance’? Maybe.”
Robin McKay, a white female writer in Pennsylvania self-identified as “resistance” writing “sure, why not.” Then she offered this critique: “’The resistance’ both elevates us, in a self-serving way (seriously, am I a French Revolutionary because I went to a few marches?) and disempowers us, in the sense that we’re reacting instead of acting. We should keep visible, but that’s probably not enough. I’m old enough to remember the hippies. At the very least we’re going to need some better drugs.”
“The resistance has turned into anyone who is not supporting the administration,” wrote Kimberly Peeler-Allen (41), a non-profit leader in New York, black female. “Black women have always been ‘the resistance’ but no one has paid attention. Now that a bunch of white women in pink hats are up in arms now there is traction.”
Another black participant stated he was “born” part of the resistance. New York city government professional Ibrahim (40) black Muslim male wrote: “No matter who is in charge I am part of the resistance.”
A Detroit activist offered this skeptical assessment of current notions of resistance. “The ‘resistance’ of middle class white women in pink hats is very different from the ‘resistance’ of people with marginalized identities,” wrote Amber York (38), black female. “Many of the newly activated middle class white women are fighting for the status quo of democratic capitalism that upholds Roe v Wade. Their goal seems to be simply to save a system that generally favors them over people of color, people with disabilities, non-Christians, the documented, poor, and queer people.”
York also questioned Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party seemingly jumping aboard the resistance bandwagon. “The move for Hillary to ‘support the resistance’ doesn’t inspire confidence in me because it looks like another predictable example of the Democratic Party using popular buzzwords without demonstrating a deep embrace of the core beliefs behind those words.”
Detroit school Principal Julia Putnam (41) ended her survey with this vision of resistance: I want someone to call us back to Martin Luther King, Jr.’s appeal for a radical revolution of values — a move away from racism, materialism, and militarism. We are a country fueled by fear that we created ourselves. There is not enough of a critique of ourselves as a country, instead we project everything on our politicians, believing that they are either ruining us or can save us — neither is true. We are the leaders we are looking for, but what are we leading ourselves to? That is the question we must be asking and the visioning we must be doing on the local level. The answers will come from the bottom up, in my opinion.
Most Recent: Lessons of 2016
Next Up: Looking Ahead to 2018
Stacy Parker Le Melle is the author of Government Girl: Young and Female in the White House(HarperCollins/Ecco) and was the lead contributor to Voices from the Storm: The People of New Orleans on Hurricane Katrina and Its Aftermath (McSweeney’s). She chronicles stories for The Katrina Experience: An Oral History Project. Her recent narrative nonfiction has been published in Callaloo, The Offing, Apogee Journal, The Nervous Breakdown, Entropy, The Butter, Cura, The Atlas Review, and The Florida Review where the essay was a finalist for the 2014 Editors’ Prize for nonfiction. Originally from Detroit, Le Melle is the founder of Harlem Against Violence, Homophobia, and Transphobia, and the co-founder of Harlem’s First Person Plural Reading Series. She received her B.A. in Political Communication from The George Washington University.
Read her interview pieces on the Pre-Trump Inauguration Concerns (“Disaster Can Be a Tweet Away”) and the 2017 Women’s March (“To Be a Force of Positivity, To Be Everything Trump Is Not”).
