March, Care, Disrupt, Heal: Finding your role
In the past week as protests have ramped up, a lot of my clients have been asking the same question: How do we resist this Administration when the resistance itself feels so risky?
And because this is Portland, where we have a history of both peaceful protests and the occasional street brawl, it’s a fair question. In 2020, we became one of the first cities that President Trump sent the National Guard to in the face of racial justice protests. Sadly LA, we know exactly what you are going through.
But the concerns I hear about attending a protest go beyond the risk of getting injured by the police or national guard. My clients fear is way bigger: they fear being targeted, surveilled, and picked up by police or ICE. Trans clients are especially worried: about being arrested, being misgendered, placed in prisons that don’t match their identities, and then cut off from gender-affirming care and basic safety.
These aren’t anxious spirals; these are fears rooted in the policy this Administration is passing. The Administration has dialed up the anti-trans rhetoric to 10, signed a slew of anti-trans executive orders, and stuffed the budget bill with threats to trans rights and safety. The goal is clear: scare people back into their assigned gender at birth or back into the closet.
Clients of color tell me about similar fears—especially those with undocumented family members. It’s not paranoia if the government is, in fact, interested in unraveling your family thread by thread.
I do my best to help clients sort out what’s anxiety and what’s reality. But let’s be honest: when every worst case scenario keeps coming true, “reality testing your anxiety” can feel a little…underwhelming. Like bringing a pool noodle to a knife fight.
I am excited about the protests I’ve seen so far. AND, protesting isn’t the only way to resist right now. Maybe crowds stress you out, maybe you're unconvinced protesting is strategic, or maybe you just don’t want to chant next to a white guy playing bongos off-beat for two hours. No? That’s just Portland? Okay, if you say so.
Deepa Iyer, an organizer colleague and all-around movement badass, offers us a map with ten roles that keep social justice ecosystems alive: Weaver, Experimenter, Frontline Responder, Visionary, Builder, Caregiver, Healer, Disrupter, Storyteller, and Guide.
With clients, I explore questions like:
What are your actual strengths (not your aspirational ones)?
What do you love doing—and what do you never want to do again?
What kind of change do you want to be a part of? What strategies speak to you and why?
Who do you want beside you when things get hard?
What do you want to learn from this moment?
And the thing is that our roles and contributions can change over time. I used to be squarely in the Builder camp: organize the plan, implement the thing, make sure everyone gets fed along the way. These days, I’m somewhere between Healer and Weaver—holding space for individual and collective healing, while working to support the connective web between people, ideas, and organizations.
The question I keep returning to is: What if there’s no right way to show up right now? What if the right way is just… showing up, however we can?
What I know this Administration doesn’t want, is for us to find each other. They don’t want us talking to each other, caring for each other, or spending time together. They want us atomized and stuck on our screens and scared shitless. One of the most radical things we can do right now is to build community and look after each other.
You can start by figuring out which of these ten roles are speaking most to you. It’s possible that the one that speaks most to you runs you straight up against some of those fears and anxieties. What you choose to do with that is up to you–no one else gets to judge or make that decision for you. There are ways to show up right now and be part of the ecosystem. The question is: are we all collectively brave enough to do it? I’m betting yes.
