Inauguration Day & Beyond: A Survival Guide
It’s Inauguration Day. Oh, and Martin Luther King Jr. Day, too—how ironic / tragic / infuriating, given the new president’s casual relationship with racism.
Many of us are bracing ourselves, imagining the havoc this administration, packed with people who think very differently than us, might cause to the people, places, and things we love.
To survive the next few years, I’m focusing on relationships, easing anxiety, and building community care.
In her book When No Thing Works (published the day after the election—nice timing), Norma Wong offers the wisdom: “Place the darkness at your back, and turn to the light.” This doesn’t mean ignoring exhaustion or fear—it means choosing not to face the cave’s depths, where darkness only begets more darkness. By facing the light, we can see each other, the world, and a way forward even if we’re not ready to leave the safety of the cave yet. Facing the light means resisting paralysis and prioritizing action over passive witnessing.
Practically, this means limiting my new consumption in 2025. My nervous system isn’t built for tracking every horrifying headline. Plus, scrolling ≠ action. I feel way better when I do something—call Congress, show up to a meeting, check in on a friend, or donate. Action beats passive witnessing every time.
Abolitionist organizer Mariame Kabe reminds us that “Hope is a discipline.” I love the idea of hope as a practice, as something that we choose over and over again. But it’s also hard to choose hope over despair and can feel like I’m ignoring reality and choosing some kind of toxic positivity. Mariame expanded on the idea with “It’s work to be hopeful. It’s not like a fuzzy feeling. [You] have to actually put in energy, time, and you have to be clear-eyed, and you have to hold fast to having a vision. It’s a hard thing to maintain. But it matters to have it.”
“Release what you cannot change.” Daniel Hunter nails it. We’re in a deluge, and trying to gulp down all the water won’t help—it’ll drown you. His hard-hitting question cuts through the chaos: “What will you go all in for, what gets a bit of your time, and what—though it hurts—will you let go of entirely?” For activists, that last one can feel like a gut punch, but it’s a survival skill.
Hunter also calls out two common traps: public angsting (endless social media posting and venting) and symbolic actions (marches and petitions). These default moves often leave us feeling worse if they don’t result in some kind of impact or change, as if we yelled into the void and got an echo of despair back.
Listen, I believe that social media rants and symbolic actions have their place. Sometimes, we just need to share our rage or stand with others who feel it too. But let’s use these tools intentionally—with a purpose and an eye on impact. Otherwise, we risk spinning our wheels while the deluge rages on.
Most importantly, turn toward community. Build a pod, start a soup night, or set up regular calls or walks with friends. Social connection is a mental health lifesaver (the other biggies: good sleep and a sense of purpose). Yet untreated depression or anxiety can make this harder, so if you need support of medication or therapy to make connection more possible–now is the time.
The light isn’t somewhere out there waiting, it’s something we create together. Keep turning toward the light, one small act at a time.
