Self Care That Doesn’t Suck: Part 2
In part 1 (2 years ago, lol whoops on timely update), I discussed an introduction to “self-care” that is not rooted in capitalism, white feminism, and wellness industrial complex values. It does, however, glaringly leave out really, really important parts. Namely, nourishing our souls and grief and rage processing during the endless times of egregious human rights violations.
Self-care does not mean an avoidance of discomfort. It is deeply white woman wellness industrial complex rhetoric to think that it is loving to yourself to just try to avoid discomfort (to the degree people can). Self care, as famously discussed by Audre Lorde, is a tool to maintain engagement in justice work. Rage, grieve, rest, engage, repeat. You cannot self-care your way out of oppression. You cannot self-care your way out of systemic failure, of genocide, of the mass movements to remove trans folks from society, of the ongoing climate catastrophe impacting us more and more, of the ever-growing wealth disparity. What you can do is learn how to integrate a system of practices that allow us to remain engaged with our selves and our pursuits of justice long-term while knowing when to change how the work is looking.
It would be deeply ignorant for me to not identify my areas of privilege that make it so I am less impacted by some significant global issues than others, as I am not personally harmed by some of them and do benefit in some ways from structures that oppress others. For folks who experience more marginalization, racial trauma and discrimination, gender and sexuality trauma and discrimination, ableism—things are going to have to look different to care for yourself than it will for those who are less marginalized by our society.
White feminism loves to say that you can girlboss your way to liberation and, as all things white feminism, that is trash. What caring for ourselves during times of endless grief, rage, and pain is absolutely not a mindset change/grind mentality/”in my selfish era” pursuits, but rather finding the pacing of when, how, and with whom to rage/grieve/process/rest/repeat. Through meaningful, regular, and attuned practices we can keep our souls intact, hold on to our humanity, and be meaningfully connected with others and larger causes.
Essential Practices and Considerations:
Rage and grief are sacred. We should not be fine when there are such deep injustices being committed each moment with our government paying for it to continue (funding a genocide with our tax dollars, funding police who do not keep us safe, funding institutionalization for the mentally ill rather than community support and meaningful resources, to name a very few). Finding and creating space to rage, to grieve, to honor the pain and despair is truly, critically essential to remain connected to our humanity and the hope that things can be different. Mariame Kaba says that “hope is a discipline,” and that hope is related to despair like two sides of a coin—we only despair because we have hope and belief that things must be different. Expressing grief and rage is deeply honoring the depths of what is happening, and an essential practice of connecting with what we’re fighting for that we do not have. This can be processing smaller and more personal things all the way through larger systemic, generational abuses.
Who are your safe people? With whom can we unmask (figuratively, COVID is still raging) and be real with, be ourselves with, be understood by? This is so crucial for the ongoing work of being effective and whole community members. As said by Audre Lorde in A Burst of Light , “Despair and isolation are my greatest internal enemies. I need to remember I am not alone, even when it feels that way. Now more than ever it is time to put my solitary ways behind me, even while protecting my solitude.” Being seen significantly and having places we are understood is so, so important for our personal wellbeing and healing as well as to sustain us in long-term work. I cannot express enough how essential having safe people is, and I know that it’s not always really easy to find but it is possible! I discuss this further in this post.
What practices are restorative? I am not talking just rest, but true restoration. To me, rest is a pause, a “not using spoons” state, but does not necessarily include restoration of energy, of hope, of feeling grounded. Restorative practices can be spiritual practices, art practices, rituals, routines, attending community events, justice work, affinity or support groups, watching that comfort show, engaging in hobbies that feel restorative and connecting, being in nature if accessible, talks with friends, or connecting with our values and interests. This is the idea that rest is not an absence of work but rather an active restoring of our energy and bolstering of ourselves so we can be grounded and rooted. There is a major difference in how I feel if I pause to scroll on my phone versus if I engage with something that connects me to myself and my values, and knowing how to integrate these practices helps us hold onto ourselves.
Where are spaces you can access safely where you are understood? Structurally, finding places where your support needs are being met and your identities seen, understood, shared, and validated are of utmost importance. Unfortunately these are not always easy to find, but are possible and out there! See my resources page for some places to start. It is deeply powerful from an attachment and nervous system perspective to be seen in ways that validate our identity, while also providing comfort and safety to exist in ways that don’t demand we have to always explain who we are and our access needs. It is not an avoidance of accountability, but a space of shared values and mutual care.
Black women, disabled, and queer folks and those multiply marginalized have been speaking of this work for ages. Largely, the idea of self-care has been seen as selfish, lazy, frivolous, or fully taken over by capitalism and white feminism. In the essay Reclaiming The Radical Politics of Self Care: A Crip of Color Critique (2021) the authors Jina B. Kim and Sami Schalk go into detail about the radical roots and potential for reclaiming the idea of self care as one essential in pushing back against colonial structures that steal the life from our bodyminds. In embodying and practicing this idea, we can hold onto our humanity, engage more deeply with ourselves and one another, and continue working to build a reality that affirms rather than destroys us.
My exhortation for all of us is to see where there are spaces we can be restored and not only engage in a meaningful, radical personal act but one of community care, empowerment, and pushback against a society that will squeeze all it can from us.
And, of course, a strong exhortation to pursue the meaningful, radical, critical idea of self-care as spoken about by Audre Lorde: “I respect the time I spend each day treating my body, and I consider it part of my political work. It is possible to have some conscious input into our physical processes–not expecting the impossible, but allowing for the unexpected–a kind of training in self-love and physical resistance.”
― Audre Lorde, A Burst of Light
Self-care is truly, sincerely, deeply not one of just feeling good on the surface. It is radical, deep work to sustain us in the long-term justice practice. It must be intentional in praxis, it must be done both by ourselves and in meaningful community, and it is essential as part of anti-oppression work.
