Civic Participation
Marching Forward While Feeling Stuck
What kind of life makes the most difference—especially when you’re fresh out of college and lacking experience?
“After every war someone has to tidy up. Things won’t pick themselves up, after all.” — Jenny Holzer
“But you know that a king is only a man / with flesh and bones, he bleeds just like you do / He said, ‘Where does that leave you? And do you belong?’ / I do. I do.” — Solange
When strangers asked me how I felt in the days after the election, I answered with one word: young. I answered this way in part because it felt like a safe, neutral thing to say: Folks across the political spectrum could agree that there was something exceptional about Donald Trump’s campaign — and about his victory. I also answered this way because it was true: I’m 22 years old, and I feel like I lack the perspective to make sense of what happened this November.
But since then, I have been wracked with another overwhelming feeling: a yearning to know where to put myself. I think this political moment should force me to change my life, but I’m not quite sure how yet.
During his campaign, Donald Trump promised more deportations and border detention, the growth of police and surveillance, and a defunded Planned Parenthood. In the wake of his election, the question of where to put oneself has become increasingly urgent for undocumented people, Muslim people, people of color, low-income women, and queer and trans people. The most vulnerable to policy change face serious questions about how they will stay healthy and safe in the coming years.
Last weekend, between 3.3 million and 4.6 million marchers decided to put themselves in the streets. They gathered at rallies across the country — and in countries on all seven continents — to express their dismay at Donald Trump’s election and their support for a progressive feminist platform.
In a way, the grassroots marches echoed sentiments both of President Trump and President Obama emphasized. In his inauguration speech, Trump said, “What truly matters is not which party controls our government, but whether our government is controlled by the people. Jan. 20, 2017 will be remembered as the day the people became the rulers of this nation again.” In his farewell address, President Obama urged for an increase in civic engagement. “Our democracy is threatened whenever we take it for granted,” he said. “All of us, regardless of party, should be throwing ourselves into the task of rebuilding our democratic institutions.”
In and of itself, the sheer size of the Women’s March was a powerful statement for feminism and anti-racism. But as an observer of the march, I was also struck by just how difficult inclusive, broad-based coalitions are to build and sustain. It’s hard to leave a protest with any clear sense of what, exactly, was accomplished, but I did leave Saturday with a sense of a movement’s potential.
In D.C., I saw what it looked like for several hundred thousand people to make the same alternate weekend plan — and I wondered what other small changes would be magnified in the coming months.
I have many friends and peers who are thinking about how they will change their lives to meet the demands of this moment. I spoke recently with a high school friend, Kelsey Sloter, who studied environmental science in college. She’s going on to get her Masters’ degree, but the election has her rethinking her approach to her field. Instead of pursuing a career in research, she may want to become an intermediary between policymakers, citizens, and scientists — someone who is able to communicate complex scientific findings to a lay audience. She believes this work is necessary — she wants to fight to make sure legislators are properly informed and aware of the stakes as they design environmental policy.
“I think everyone’s realizing that there’s more they could do,” Sloter told me over the phone. As we talked, I marveled at the power of an army of career-pivots. So many of my friends, mostly recent college graduates, are starting to ask themselves two questions at once: “What do I want?” and “Where am I needed?”
Not all of my friends are as sure as Kelsey is. For others like me, the moment has only compounded post-grad “what-to-do-with-my-life” anxiety. It has put into sharp focus just how difficult it is to assess what kind of life makes the most difference — and how to make a difference when you’re fresh out of college and lacking experience.
I believe everyone who has the privilege to spend their days doing work that aligns with their values should absolutely do so. But in the midst of these larger, at-times paralyzing questions about career change, I’m inspired by peers who stay impatient, and who are also committing themselves immediately to acts of citizenship: donating to causes they care about, engaging more in local politics, and joining community groups. Every day on Facebook, I see friends post instructions about how to call Congress members. One of my college classmates says he’s choosing to focus on the local: He started mentoring a younger person in his community. Another friend knows she wants to switch careers eventually, but in the meantime, she’s started a service group at her workplace.
Maybe the most revolutionary part of my weekend was not attending the women’s march. Maybe instead, it was sitting with a group of my friends, all people of color, eating Ethiopian food, and realizing how lucky I am to know them. Conversation darted from topic to topic. In passing, two of my friends made plans to study for the LSAT together — they’re applying to law school soon. Another friend will head back to New York City, where she works in theater. Another friend spoke about her job in government, where she works on health care policy.
Through the course of the evening, it became clear that we had all, in our own ways, made commitments — both to each other and to a different kind of world.
It is a powerful thing to be around people who are constantly thinking about how to live their values. What’s even more powerful, though, is knowing that we’ll do so not with the confidence of a man who rejects security briefings and sends surrogates to propose “alternative facts” but instead with humility and a radical sense of interdependence.
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