When You Don't Know What To Do
A May '25 Note (about a time I didn't go to a winery)
Neighbors, I'd like to share an experience I had yesterday. First, some background.
I am participating in a nationwide fast for Gaza, organized by Veterans for Peace and 38 co-sponsoring organizations, many of which are Christian and/or Palestinian. A core group of veterans in New York City is fasting for 40 days straight. Individuals nationwide consume approximately 250 calories daily (here’s what that looks like), similar to what most Gazans can access, or they observe sunrise-to-sunset fasts for 40 days. Some have organized fasting chains, where each person takes a segment to complete the full 40 days of fasting.
As a former health coach and nutritional therapist, I understand that fasting for 40 days isn’t sustainable for most individuals. So, I organized a chain with eight friends, each taking five days. Today is my last day. I fast from sunrise to sunset, about 15 hours of daylight without food. After sunset, I have a typical dinner, like chicken chili verde with Monterey Jack cheese and corn chips, then go to bed. Before sunrise, I drink coffee with a tablespoon of maple syrup and creamer.
It hasn't been easy, but it’s also not like it’s total deprivation. I’ve noticed that mid-morning, I get predictably hungry, and during the last three hours before sunset, I start to think a lot about wanting to eat. What helps me push through is the certainty that I’ll be able to break the fast in just a few more hours. It’s not pleasant to be hungry and delay eating, but compared to those in Gaza, who don’t know when or if they will eat again, I can manage.
But yesterday, I had a moment . . .
It’s a long weekend, it was unexpectedly sunny and warm in Maryland, my husband and I had some chores we could blow off, and suddenly I really wanted to take a drive to a winery in the countryside, sit outside, enjoy some charcuterie and wine with nature sounds and small talk with my husband. You know, easy-breezy Sunday afternoon. And wouldn’t that be okay?
I Deserve This
The world is a bitch right now; due to my husband’s career, our household has been directly affected by the T*ump regime’s fuckery, and it’s been months of high levels of uncertainty and stress. Nice days with a chance for a sliver of joy are few and far between. Didn’t I deserve it? Wasn’t I justified in just cheating on the fasting commitment a little? Nobody would even know. What if another chance to enjoy a day like this doesn’t come for weeks or months, even? Shouldn’t I just ease up a little and be kinder to myself? This is self-care, right?
That is exactly the mental conversation I was having with myself, and even partially an out-loud conversation I was having with my husband. I’m not some saint, thinking only pure thoughts on the virtues of self-sacrifice. I fully own being one of those basic white ladies who like to go to wineries and have a little picnic spread and rosé, if I have a cute sundress to pair with the eating and drinking, even better.
And then it hit me: Disobey.
Programming
Damn. This culture of ours has us so programmed to constantly seek individual pleasures, or at least individual interests, and do almost anything to avoid discomfort.
Now, before you stop reading and tune out, know that I absolutely do not believe we need to martyr ourselves and live in constant, joyless austerity to fight injustice or be morally “good enough.” Like I said, I’m one of those winery people. I’m one of those people who just wants to zone out and watch some home renovation shows at the end of the day. I really, really enjoyed taking vacations to Europe the last three years. If I could afford a nice vacation and renovate my 1973 townhome like the ones on those shows, I probably would.
Pause. Why are those shows so preposterous? It’s usually like, “This is Brooks and Olivia, a couple that sells pressed flower arrangements or has an artisan iced tea shop called ‘Steeped Bliss,’ but also somehow has a reno budget of $200k! Watch them transform their totally unacceptable six-bedroom, three-bathroom home built in 2016! Here’s Brooks and Olivia arguing about $50 a square foot hand-painted Mexican tile! This is fun! And wholesome!” I legit used a restaurant name generator (They have them. On the internet.) to come up with that iced tea shop name. Also, despite how ridiculous these shows are, again, I love zoning out to them.
I Don’t Know What To Do
But seriously, missing one sunny day winery trip so I could stay focused on a cause bigger than me and certainly much, much more important than my wants, barely registers. It made me realize that a lot of the “I just don’t know what to do” talk, particularly in white circles, is just paralysis over bucking up and disobeying what we’ve been told is normal.
We’ve been told that our rights come without responsibilities. We’ve been told that our individual desires should take precedence over collective interests, even collective well-being. We’ve been told that discomfort, even temporarily, should be avoided at all costs. Don’t set aside personal desires; confront this harsh reality and unite for a greater cause, even if it brings long-term benefits for everyone. Netflix and chill, Girl. Starbucks and strolling Target, Girl.
Fascism wants us to be compliant, but not just in terms of major laws and regulations. In many ways, fascism is far more pervasive and insidious at the level of cultural norms. It's at a level that we might not even recognize. After all, it’s much easier to get you to comply if you don’t even realize you are falling in line.
What if compliance is programmed in such a way that it’s automatic and unrelated to whether the old, wealthy white man in the presidency is explicitly a fascist?
Ambient Fascism
Strictly, don’t discuss ICE or militarized police departments or surveillance. Especially not at work. Amazon is inevitable; don’t engage in a boycott. Focus on how overwhelmed you feel and how much convenience provides temporary relief from that sensation. Go into debt every Christmas. Get a side gig and work every holiday thereafter to pay it off.
It’s Memorial Day Weekend! Enjoy beers with friends, blast the music loud enough to drown out that video you accidentally saw on Instagram of a child in Gaza sobbing from the bottom of their shattered soul after realizing the last missile strike leaves them the sole survivor of their family. Get distracted by the great buys at the Memorial Day sale, and don’t stop long enough to consider that this distraction might be helping normalize genocide. DO NOT organize a fast for Gaza with your friends instead of cooking out!
What if, when we don’t know what to do, we disobey? Maybe we could be hungry for a few days. Maybe we could be inconvenienced. Maybe we could tolerate some discomfort and talk about some terrible shit openly, publicly. Maybe we could skip the winery, or not watch Netflix, or not drink Starbucks, or not shop at Target. Maybe we could bankrupt Jeff Bezos.
Every time we disobey this cultural programming, we become stronger. Consistent, small acts of disobedience build real resistance. It’s leveraging deviance for collective well-being, setting our moral selves free, and increasing capacity to create the alternative world we actually want to live in.
This might be ambient fascism, Girl. You do know what to do. Disobey.
Neighbors, what are some ways you are disobeying right now? No matter how small, I want to hear about them!
Also, I was sorry to miss playlisting for the last two boycotts. I hope you were putting together some inspo songs of your own. Up next is Target, which you may already be boycotting, from June 3 to 9.
Neighbors, if committing to a subscription isn’t really your bag, but this monthly note gets you thinking, you can show your support with “Buy Me A Coffee.” Click the button!
Splendid wake-up call-out! Or closer to say this piece is a get-yer-entitled-ass-involved alarm that's set to "Bullet the Blue Sky".
Thank you for these notes - they always make me think.