We Shine Brighter in the Dark
Hopelessness has been whispering through sessions and over posts on the Internet this past week. It’s sitting within my chest as I write this, asking me heavily, “What’s the point?” or “Why bother?” while I struggle to find words to give to you. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen so much hope too. The pettiness and honestly incredible willingness of people migrating from TikTok to Xiaohongshu (Rednote). Communities across California supporting LA through the wildfires. And of course, the miracles I see every day in the lives of my clients, my friends, my family, acquaintances and strangers. It’s truly amazing if you take the time to notice.
Still, hopelessness persists. The inauguration of our least favorite president and with him, a terrifying administration, is tomorrow (on the holiday designated for MLK Jr. of all days). I have people in my personal life who are ill, and the uncertainty of the future of their healing looms over the horizon. Climate change echoes in my brain whenever I look through my weather app. I carry grief from unexpected deaths in my closest friends and family that pulls me into hopelessness too. It jabs me when I’m least expecting it, striking fear into my heart and the ever more familiar sinking feeling of oblivion that threatens to swallow me whole. I push back against it, willing it to leave, ignoring it in willful rebellion. I will not feel hopeless. I won’t allow it. So it washes away for awhile, only to come rushing back again to surprise me.
Austin Channing Brown is my go-to voice on hope and hopelessness. In her post after Kamala Harris lost the election, she wrote three sections, this quote I pulled being directed at white women - but I’m letting it echo for all of us too:
“Is heartbreak real? Yes. Is hopelessness real? Yeah, but I will tell you time and time again, hope is a duty. Hope is a duty. Hope is a duty. Hope is not about how we feel. Hope is a duty. Hope is what we do. Hope is what we do, regardless of how we feel. Hope is what propels us to say this is right and this is wrong, and I am going to stand up for what I believe is right. That hope, that hope is a duty.”
As a therapist, my job is to support people to feel how they feel, without judgment. We can feel hopeless. In fact, we MUST feel hopelessness. Sit down with it. Drink tea with it. Hold it and recognize it is part of you. It is part of all of us. Hope cannot exist without hopelessness. Understand that it is real and true, and that it has a very important job: to remind us of what matters most in this world, in this existence.
But to allow hopelessness to dictate what we do—this is what Austin Channing Brown warns us against. She reminds us that within the systems of privilege, which we all benefit from at different levels, and our duty to those with less privilege than ourselves is to persist in hope in the face of hopelessness. (Her book, I’m Still Here, is a must-read - and she also has a rewritten version for young readers too.) Those with less privilege do not have a choice. They must hope or die. They have been and will be subject to discriminations, destructions, genocides. And if you know your history, then chances are—we will all be subject to this too. None of us are free, until all of us are free.
So where do we start? For my practical readers, we can keep these 3 steps in mind:
1: Ground
Finding your grounding, your center, is essential now more than ever. In ACT, we call this “Dropping Anchor” which is very appropriate for the storms of life we are about to go through. There are so many ways to do this, and all of them focus on coming to the present moment. Noticing your body, your space, your spiritual center - whatever resonates and works for you. I have included some suggestions here from previous posts and resources I have here on my website and from my favorite writers and providers:
2: Context
I cannot stress this word enough. Please, please remember to take into perspective the context. The context of the situation. The context of the feelings of others. The context of your own feelings. The context of intentions and expectations. The context of systemic oppression. The context of being human. Because we live in a hyper-individualist American society, we tend to forget how interconnected we are with everyone else. This allows us to break cycles of shame and self-doubt; this allows us to lean on the strengths of others instead of focusing entirely on what we need to fix or change in ourselves. It’s about balance, about honoring what is true. When we take in context, we can choose more effectively.
Examples of taking in context:
Recognizing social media is designed for keeping you on the app as long as possible; it is designed to hook your emotions. It is not ultimately designed to give you helpful or relevant content - it feeds whatever emotions get you to stay
Acknowledging that people are acting out of fear and protecting what they believe is important
Noticing that there are horrible things happening at all times as well as wonderful things; and has been the case since the dawn of time
Connect and intentionally search for content about people changing the status quo
3: Prioritize
“What comes first?” This is a question we need to ask over and over and over again. Many times in therapy, I’m helping people untangle from the layers of emotions all pulling for their attention, noticing what goes in order of importance or need. If you are navigating hopelessness in the face of unknown changes, ask yourself:
“What feels threatened?”
“What and who is my support system?”
“What do I need to access them?”
Then put them in order of priority, importance, or how the steps support each other.
4: Ground again
This will be repeating, over and over again: we must return to center. We will need to experience stress and move with energy. What makes stress toxic is inhibiting the cycle from completion. Re-grounding after stress means sending messages to your body that this is finished for now, that we will reset and start again - but first we need to rest.
How to re-ground after stress:
Movement of any kind
Shaking
Dancing
Singing
Exercising
Breathwork
Crying
Laughing
Walking
We will need this cycle, practice and repeat it. It is our duty.
One of my favorite songs of all time is called Human Sacrifice by Childish Gambino. It feels sacred to me. It is very repetitive, which echoes structures of prayers and mantras. The chorus is 11 words repeated over and over again: Turn all the lights out — we shine brighter in the dark. It’s been my prayer since 2018 when I first heard it, and I imagine that it will be my prayer until I leave this earth. It says: I dare you. Turn out the lights. Try to bring us down. We will become stronger, we will find gifts beyond comprehension. It is rebellion, it is defiance, it is a message of "We will rise.” When we are together, we will rise. It is inevitable.
Hopelessness is the dark. When we choose our duty of hope, we shine brighter than we ever knew was possible. I hold on to this as I brace myself for the days to come, and I hope it gives you a spark to hold too.
