Hello Friends,
Well, it goes without saying that the world we live in this week is quite a different one from last. I admit that I prepared for this outcome this year. I was hopeful, sure. But I expected this. While they were all anecdotal, what I seemed to keep hearing were the selective choices going on in the electorate’s minds about “the economy” vs. human rights and democracy. But also, I think I expected this partly because of this project.
Writing about and thinking about “apocalypse” all the time tends to put one in a place where an apocalypse is expected. After mentioning this in a text thread with some of my friends, one of them kindly offered the suggestion that maybe now is the time to switch to sunnier topics. What’s funny, though, is that while I think about “apocalypse” all the time, the idea of it has transformed. It’s less of the doom-and-gloom end-of-the-world connotation that many think it is. And some also might think that describing this election as an apocalypse is an exaggeration (i.e., it’s nothing compared to the apocalypse in Gaza), it’s clear that apocalypses come in all shapes and sizes. What I think helps to change that perspective is understanding the etymological root of the word “apocalypse.”
In Latin, the word apocalypsis means “revelation” or “disclosure.” In Greek, the wor apokalyptein means to "uncover, disclose, reveal.” In that, apocalypse means, essentially, a grand revealing. It might be revealing something we don’t want to see, but it does not mean “an end.” It means a change and in that, it does not mean all hope is lost.
In response to my friend’s text (in addition to being tempted to write about more optimistic topics) was my rather philosophical take:
There have been countless apocalypses over the course of human history. The most notable and resonant is that inflicted upon indigenous peoples. Yet, they are still here and still fighting. Gerald Vizenor calls it “survivance” – not just surviving but surviving with resilience [thriving]. So my thoughts are that I’m still worried out of my fucking mind about what’s to come, but I have to have hope that many before us have survived and thrived after an apocalypse.
I often think about the word survivance when I think of resilience-building. The Decolonial Dictionary acknowledges that the word has existed for a long time, but White Earth Anishanaabe scholar, Vizenor, has brought a new and updated meaning to the word. “Survivance,” the dictionary reads, “names the conjunction between resistance and survival – calling attention to the fact that not only have Indigenous peoples survived the genocidal ambitions of settler colonialism, but have continued to enliven their cultures in fluid, critical and generative ways.”
It’s about resistance.
I’ve thought about that a lot last week while I was in Minneapolis for a retreat for moms who write that me and my colleagues have organized. Knowing about the peoples whose land we were on and what they have endured over the centuries of colonization was a big part of the experience. We began our week with a video featuring Jim Bear Jacobs of the Stockbridge-Munsee Mohican Nation and an Indigenous leader in the Twin Cities and Danny Givens, a pastor and Black leader from the Rondo neighborhood in Minneapolis. In the video, both are sitting by Bdote, now called the Mississippi River. Throughout the seven minutes, Jim Bear spoke about the important history of the river to the Indigenous peoples, the historical and cultural significance of the place, and the effect colonialism has had on the original peoples of the area. Danny Givens then spoke about the Black community of the Twin Cities, the thriving communities they built particularly in the Rondo neighborhood, and then the destruction of those communities by way of the development of the highway system.
What both men described was an apocalypse. Yet there they were also describing the resilience and the resistance of both of their communities despite the apocalypse.
It is so true that this apocalypse, this turn towards fascism, is no doubt going to be worse for the most historically marginalized. While explaining to my White son that the election did not go our way, I didn’t have to bear the weight of the worry that a mother of a Black child does knowing that America has, again, voted against their humanity. Or the mother of a trans child who has to make up a strategic plan to find a place of refuge if the federal government would come for their child’s personhood. Or a mother who is an immigrant who fears that she might be torn away from her family and deported.
But what we, especially those of us in privileged positions who are scared of putting our wellbeing on the line in the name of allyship, is that the people who have experienced the worst of the worst possess the most resilience. And we must learn from them and fight alongside them because so many have been enduring an apocalypse all along.
Yes we can take a moment to rest, to restore, to find some moments of peace. But holy shit are we going to have to fuck this system up and if this election hasn’t told us that the status quo ain’t gonna work, then now is the time where that should be abundantly clear.
With that, I want to share the words of
, who kind of like me looks directly at the apocalypse through her writing and podcasting and advocacy. In her latest post “The Sky is Falling; We’ve Got this:”I can’t tell you things are fine. I can’t tell you that hard times aren’t coming. I can’t tell you that hard times aren’t already here. Things can always get worse. That seems like, more or less, a constant in this universe: things can always get worse.
The thing is, though, things can always get better too. We can make things get better.
Maybe the biggest problem with election years is that we seem to collectively forget that we have agency outside of voting. We forget that our actions have direct, measurable impact on the world. Our non-voting actions even impact the outcome of elections: as CrimethInc pointed out, the George Floyd Uprising of 2020 had a direct and measurable impact keeping Trump from winning the election that year.
Of course, the George Floyd Uprising wasn’t trying to get Biden elected, it was trying to stop racist police violence. Moderate reforms are won by making radical demands. If you demand moderate reforms, you generally get, well, nothing.
The Democrats gambled on the perpetuation of an old, dying (dead?) status quo and it cost them the election. The old status quo is gone. To quote that old saying by Antonio Gramsci, “the old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”
Let us midwife the new world that wants to be born.
I encourage you to read her post because she goes much deeper than I feel capable of now around action and what we can, what we need to do in order to midwife this new world. Spoiler alert: it does not include staring out into the abyss dazed and wondering “what the fuck just happened?” While yes, that will definitely be in between her points, they require action. Her suggestions point to moving away from what we’ve come to see as typical political organizing. She takes an anarchist approach that, contrary to what many people think, is a more holistic way to provide a space and belonging to people who feel disaffected and isolated from the current politics of today.
I really appreciate her perspective today and her urging that there are many ways we can be more radical in the way we work to change the world.
I hope maybe this at least gives you some solace for the moment. Nonetheless, I just want to thank you all for being a part of this community. We are only going to get through this moment and hopefully towards more radical change and revolution in community.
In the meantime, take care of yourself and the people around.
Much love,
Elizabeth