What Do We Do?

When I was little, I used to ask myself, “If I was alive during slavery, would I think it was a bad thing? Or would I, being a white woman in the south, simply think it was the way things were and not question it?” Would I accept it as a normal way of life? Or would I know that it was bad?

If I had lived in Germany during WWII, would I have hidden Jewish families in my house? Or would I have believed the rhetoric that they were responsible for my struggles and reported them?

These questions are becoming a lot less rhetorical. Our government is actively murdering citizens in the street. And yet, what do I do? What do any of us do? What can we do?

While there is power in solidarity, in showing support, in acknowledging what is going on, posting on social media feels hollow. Unless backed up by action, am I simply reposting a meme and moving on with my day? I am not interested in performance. I am interested in action.

Attending protests often brings tears to my ears. A reminder I am not alone and many around me think this government is behaving abhorrently. But then I go home. I make dinner. I do laundry.

I am in a place of privilege. White, cis, hetero,e with enough income to keep a roof over my head and not panic when SNAP benefits are cut.

Many, many times recently I have found myself saying that people are welcome to having differing opinions on economic policy, taxes, or similar. That’s politics and people have different ideas on what is the best way forward.

But if you think that children should go hungry, that some people do not have the right to exist, or should be allowed to make decisions about what happens to their own bodies, you can (and are) be wrong. Those become moral differences, and morality means treating all human beings with basic respect. Not gunning them down in the street or their school, their place of worship, or when they try and help fellow human beings.

Again: But what do I do? Emails fill my inbox, I need to shower.

I always wanted to believe I would know slavery was wrong, would be part of the Underground Railroad. Or hide entire families in my closet. History is harder when you are living it. I don’t say this as an excuse to do nothing. I say this because I am being honest. I’m lost, I feel defeated. I don’t think titling my runs on Strava something anti-ICE will make any difference.

I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I haven’t attended many protests this time around, I’m busy. I didn’t volunteer in 2024 the way I did in 2020 for multiple elections. I’m tired and busy and no ICE agents are in the streets of Montana (yet). Phone calls to congress lead to rote voicemails that go unanswered.

What do I do?

I want to yell and scream and cry. Our county is falling apart. Democracy feels like a joke. I want to say, “I’m one of the good ones!” But am I? Do I make an effort whenever I can? Or just when it feels like I have time? Is this post going to change anything? Or just make me feel a little better?

What do we do?

Genuinely. What do we do? What do I do? How do we help those who need it? How do we stop this madness? Where do we go?

For me, again, it means finding concrete action as much as possible. Reminding myself that the those who take these horrific actions want me to be tired, busy, or willing to look away. And not letting them get that privilege.

I’ve reached out to a local non-profit for the Spanish speaking community in town to see what events are coming up and how I might help. I also give money, if I can’t give time, to organizations that are already working hard in this area. I can keep showing up to protests, sharing resources, and asking questions. I can stop ignoring. I can keep feeling the pain and sadness of existing at this time, without letting it turn me away from fighting for justice.

I can continue the work of acknowledging my privilege and not letting it make me complacent.

Perhaps posting can feel hollow, or perhaps it can show others I am here. I see them and they see me.

Are there other resources or ideas you can offer? Please comment below.