When Two Are Enough: The Smallest Unit of Resistance
If you’re concerned like I am, about our country’s descent into authoritarianism, you might feel stuck. Overwhelmed. Unsure of what to do. Lately, we’ve been hearing a lot about the power of community—how it might be the most important antidote to what’s unfolding. This resonates with me. I’m lucky to be part of several communities that offer comfort, support, and motivation in different ways.
Right after the presidential election, I helped my local LGBTQ+ community pull together two impromptu gatherings. They were a powerful balm during a time of deep grief. A diverse group of queer folks came together to share fears, concerns, and, importantly, stories of times when we were courageous in our lives. I left those gatherings feeling both shaken and steady, drawn up by the strength of others.
I’m also connected to activist groups resisting what’s unfolding and supporting leaders who stand for justice, dignity, and a better future. And I’m part of a varied, joyful crew of friends who gather at our house to share food, and conversation and dance sessions. Each of these communities is important to me and I’m deeply grateful for them.
And yet sometimes I still feel completely overwhelmed.
The emails pile up. The to-do lists from activist groups keep growing. Twenty things I should be doing, right now. My brain starts to shut down. Maybe you know that feeling?
When that happens, I turn to something else.
Something smaller. Simpler. But incredibly powerful.
A micro-community of two.
My cousin and I have made a pact: we will not give up. We will keep each other accountable. We will help each other stay focused and engaged. Most weeks, we sit together by the fire at her house. Soon, we’ll move outside, where we can enjoy the plants, birds, and other creatures who make their home in the meadow out front. We talk about what we’re hearing and noticing. We help each other prioritize. And then—we take action, right then and there. We’ve written letters to local and national elected officials, donated to causes we believe in, made plans to join protests, and sent postcards to support candidates. It’s not a long list of twenty things. It’s one or two things we do, together.
It works because we love each other. We know we have each other’s backs. We trust each other. And we show up, week after week.
If you’re feeling stuck right now, maybe you can find your person. In my case it is someone I know well. But maybe it could work with a new acquaintance, too. Someone who you might come to love and trust through shared commitment, conversation and action. So, reach out to one person. Make a pact. Make a plan. Make a micro-community.
Because even if our actions aren’t perfect (some are probably clumsy or off the mark) what matters is that we’re trying. We’re choosing connection over paralysis. Love over fear.
Someday, if my grandkids ask what I was doing during this time, I want to have an answer I can be proud of. I found my people. I kept showing up. I stayed in it. I didn’t look away.
Co-Founder, The Creative Discourse Group
