On Revolutionary Hope

On Revolutionary Hope

Written by Sára.

My feed is soaked in blood.

Headlines pile as the death toll climbs. Videos of decimated homes and dismembered children pierce my screen. Aid convoys and workers are killed, leaving surviving Palestinians starving. Politicians convene and emails are sent. 

Bleeding ensues.

Time inches forward and I’m unsure what to do with my hands. Clinging to hope feels like a futile, offensive pursuit.

What good will soaked pillowcases do?

As despair circles me, Toni Morrison’s words reel me in:

“I insist on being shocked. I am never going to become immune. I think that’s a kind of failure to see so much of it that you die inside. I want to be surprised and shocked every time”. 

Her insistence serves as an antidote to the collective apathy that allows the apartheid to devastate. So long as it is channelled into sustained commitments of solidarity, like:

Because the struggle towards a liberated Palestine isn’t a passive endeavour but a relentless pursuit.

It is this insistence- anchored in hope, that catalyses lasting change.

As James Baldwin beautifully articulated

“I never have been in despair about the world. I’ve been enraged by it. I don’t think I’m in despair. I can’t afford despair. I can’t tell my nephew, my niece. You can’t tell the children there’s no hope.”. 

Here, despair is a quiet resignation to the condition of the oppressed. Despair throws its hands up and cries “What difference will it make?”, changing nothing. 

Instead, charged by our collective rage/grief, hope forms the basis of what could be- a framework for our fight for liberation. 

When despair beckons, cling to hope- not out of naivety, but as a radical act of defiance against injustice. 

Hold on to your heartbeat. Feel your cheeks redden. Bear witness. Let your tears spill. Insist on it. Act on it.

Because Palestinians cannot afford our despair. 

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