At the beginning of this year, trend forecasters announced that 2020 would be the year of ‘resilience culture’. We’d been living in our comfort zones for far too long, they said, thriving in safe spaces and self-censorship and self-care, but 2020 would bring an end to all that. It would, instead, bring rise to a resilience that hadn’t been part of our lives for a while. As I walked to the coffee shop this morning, I recalled this announcement with a sense of amusement. I don’t think trend forecasters have ever forecast so well, but I also don’t think they could have predicted what was coming. Yet here we are, trapped in a reality requiring nothing but resilience. Forced to cope and keep going in spite of it all. Our mollycoddled existences have been thrown out into the deep end. Swim, 2020 said. And so, we do.
I have been thinking about resilience because I have finally read The Fire Next Time. James Baldwin has remained in my head since I closed the book, and that is the beauty of good writing. You see the world through another’s eyes, and it’s usually a sight that maintains its foothold. But there was one point he made about human suffering that is particularly pertinent to this moment, and it is a point I feel compelled to share. It surrounds resilience and the benefits reaped from making it through adversity, even though I am sure you are feeling none of those benefits right now. “I do not mean to be sentimental about suffering… but people who cannot suffer can never grow up, can never discover who they are,” Baldwin wrote. “That man who is forced each day to snatch his manhood, his identity, out of the fire of human cruelty that rages to destroy it knows, if he survives his effort, and even if he does not survive it, something about himself and human life that no school on earth - and indeed, no church - can teach. He achieves his own authority, and that is unshakeable.”
I found this similar to something Joan Didion once wrote. In order to achieve self-respect, she said, one must first fail. Only then does one prevail with an understanding that the odds are not always stacked in their favour, that the light does not always go green. The reason this self-respect or unshakeable authority develops, is because, as Baldwin wrote, “if one is continually surviving the worst that life can bring, one eventually ceases to be controlled by a fear of what life can bring.” Experiencing the worst of what life has to offer can sometimes bring with it a sense of freedom. Adversity can occasionally liberate. And in this moment, where it has become very clear we are existing in a day governed by COVID-19 numbers and tightening restrictions and the normalisation of mass death and mass grief, accompanied by increasing job losses and a faltering economy, Baldwin’s words are the comfort we need. If you come out the other side of this, you will be different, you will be stronger. Even if you are too tired to be strong in this moment, you are probably being strong without knowing it.
I guess that may be the biggest misconception about resilience. It tends to come with a perception of loud, visible strength, of stridentness, when it can sometimes be quiet and soft. One year ago, when I was in the middle of a week I didn’t know how I would get through, a good friend told me to ‘just exist’. It was some of the best advice I’ve ever heard and advice I implement whenever I have to do something scary. Because sometimes you are too tired or too weak or too terrified to tackle hard moments with the boldness and shine of an inspirational Instagram quote. Sometimes you just need to exist through them. And by existing, you keep going, and by keeping on going you can make it through hard things. And as we sit in the month of August, with the shine of lockdown no longer held up by sourdough baking or Zoom exercise classes, but the meek reality that this was not some novel break in our lives but, in fact, a new world order, we have run out of ammunition to maintain its novelty. The finish line is nowhere to be seen and the coinciding motivation with which we approached the race has also faded. All we can do right now is just exist, and continue existing with the hope that we will come out the other side. And when the other side arrives, maybe we will have gained something: an unshakeable authority. If you’re existing through this moment, you’re stronger than you think. You’re swimming right now, even if it may not feel like it.
Some related (and unrelated) recommendations:
Earlier this year, I spent part of my lockdown talking to some remarkable women who have overcome extraordinary events. These women's stories are part of Future Women's first book, Untold Resilience. It is timely and uplifting book of true stories from 19 women whose resilience has seen them survive extraordinary global and personal tragedy. It will be out in October, but you can pre-order a copy here.
This is some of the best writing I've read in a while. Author Shayla Lawson writes for The Cut in a series about the challenges of working in an unequal America.
I couldn't recommend these two podcast episodes more. The Daily explores cancel culture: part 1 here, part 2 here.
US Democratic candidate Joe Biden has announced Kamala Harris as his running mate, making Harris the first Black female VP candidate from a major US party in history. This is glorious news and I enjoyed this article on it.
With the hope of bringing some lightness to your week, here is a playlist I made last year: Not On Kauai with Donald Glover. Because that it where I would like to be right now. It has a mix of relaxed tunes and rap and is, of course, themed around Donald Glover/Childish Gambino. In hindsight, I should have shared this when I wrote about Glover. Anywayyyyy.
Another reminder that my book is out. You can order a copy here or find it anywhere you buy books, so go support your local bookstore if you can.
And, of course, The Fire Next Time.
If you enjoy this newsletter, you can support it through a small, monthly donation on Patreon. Otherwise, forward this email to a friend. The more support I receive, the more time I can dedicate to it.