As some of you Substack tourists may be aware, Flower Child comes out every Tuesday — so, this must be Flower Child.
In case some of you don’t get the reference to the 1969 movie, I’ve included an image of it I found on the internet. I didn’t see the movie when it was released, as I was only seven years old. But it was such a big part of cultural lore at the time that it was hard to miss. Still, Rafael hadn’t heard of it and he’s three years older than me, so you never know.
Tuesdays in times of fascism
As a typical Rebel in the Four Tendencies framework,1 I normally abhor schedules of any kind, but for some reason I like having a schedule for Flower Child. It keeps me going.
Lately, though, it’s been harder to keep going.
It’s not unusual for me to feel like everything I’m doing is futile. Naturally, that extends to writing. I have things I want to say, and I love thinking things through by writing. There are so many interesting things in the world to write about! I love making a point, or exploring a new topic, or following my thoughts to see where they go. I love putting sentences and paragraphs together. I love editing them. I love everything about it.
I also hate everything about it. Well, not really. But I have feelings. I’m never able to express myself as well as I’d like. What I write is never good enough. More often than not, I think, Who the fuck wants to read any of this, anyway?
And now, it’s easier than ever to feel this way.
I know I’m not alone. It’s hard to keep going on with anything in our daily lives — working, cooking, laundry — when everything around us is crumbling. And yet, if we don’t keep working, cooking, and doing laundry, we won’t be able to pay our bills. We’ll go hungry. Our clothes will be dirty. I keep thinking back to this tweet I shared a couple years ago, which says it so well:
Still: Working, cooking, and doing laundry fall in the category of things we really need to do.
So many other things feel irrelevant right now. Like what we wear, or hair, or makeup. Yet, as we’re learning daily, concerns about those don’t just disappear when fascism appears. I was reminded of that the other day when an ad for lipstick appeared right above yet another story about how the current administration is screwing us:
Crazy juxtapositions are a regular part of life these days.
Why cats paint; why humans write
What about writing?
Like hair and makeup, writing feels like a luxury right now. It feels like a distraction from what we should be doing: calling our representatives, going to protests, putting all our energy into fighting fascism. Sometimes it even feels absurd — as absurd as a cat painting.
Let me be honest about what I’m really trying to say: I feel guilty spending time writing. I feel guilty writing about whatever I feel like writing. I feel like I should be addressing the political situation. Or spending my time doing something else altogether.
But I’m not an activist; I’m not an expert in politics or history; I’m not a “thought leader.”
There is one area, though, in which I have deep, extensive experience: guilt. Did I get that from my Jewish and Catholic heritage, even though I was brought up with no religion? Did I get it from growing up in a liberal college town where I was made aware of my own privilege? Did I get it from some other source, or sources? Who knows. Whatever its origins, guilt runs deep in me — so much so that I feel guilty when I see a security guard in a store, even though I’ve never shoplifted in my life.
It’s no wonder, then, that I feel guilty these days spending time on anything I do for myself.
So, this Tuesday seems like a good time for a reminder of the articles and essays I come across nearly every day telling us how important it is to keep writing — now, more than ever. Here are a few:
What Dead Writers Teach us About Resilience, by Laura Lenz
We Need Writers Now More Than Ever. Our Democracy Depends On It, by Jennifer Eagan
Personal narratives in the Trump era, by Lilly Dancyger
Why Writing Is Important, Especially Now, by Susan Lovett
A great excerpt from the first one on this list:
If you are reading this, you are one of the visionaries, and your voice is needed in the world. If you are reading this, the most important thing you can do in the weeks and years ahead is keep writing and keep loving and live your life to its fullest.
Live, live all you can. It’s a mistake not to (Henry James).
A not-so-foolish consistency
I have no doubt that I’m the only one who cares if Flower Child comes out every Tuesday. I’m sure most readers would welcome a break now and then — and I’m not saying I’ll never take one.
But the consistency of Tuesdays sustains me, and that’s a good thing right now. Maybe I’ll even convince myself to write about whatever I feel like writing — you know, topics other than the fall of democracy.
As you know if you’ve seen the wonderful film Next Stop, Wonderland, consistency is NOT the hobgoblin of little minds. (If you haven’t seen it, please do. You’re welcome.) Right now, a little consistency is welcome amidst all the chaos. I know I appreciate it, and I hope you do too.
And next week, I promise I’ll move on to another destination — I mean, topic.
The Four Tendencies is a framework developed by Gretchen Rubin to understand how people form (or don’t form) habits. It’s not meant to explain your whole personality; it’s meant to describe how you respond to both internal and external expectations.
I know the following quote is "mannish" and of it's time, but it can still inspire us (women, too!) to keep going despite the current storms or doldrums (whichever is the current condition of our collective and personal life).
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” --Theodore Roosevelt
I get this. Not the movie (lol for once I’m too young!), but the guilt. It’s been rough these past weeks.