Grappling with revolutionary resilience

“Revolutionary resilience starts by disrupting the current pattern of individualising that which is systemic, while also recognising that individual resilience is needed to resist internal systemic oppression.

Resilience is a word originating from Latin, which literally means “to jump again.” The American Psychological Association defined resilience as “The process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats or even significant sources of threat”. Indeed, the dominant worldview celebrates those who from early on in life have well-developed resilient capabilities”.

It is important to acknowledge that as a collective, we experience varying degrees of micro and macro traumas. This is evident in widespread weariness, despondency and a sense of hopelessness. Our exposure to trauma directly and indirectly through digital platforms has increased feelings of numbness, suffering and uncertainty. In this context, it is hard to hold onto hope. What makes things worse are expectations of personal resiliency and self-care as the remedy or response to our realities.

A closer look at prevailing definitions of resilience reveals the tendency to place the burden on individuals to endure unequal conditions. Even though these circumstances are caused by systemic oppression, injustice and violence, the spotlight tends to fall on how individuals must change, rather than how systemic biases wear us down. As explained in my blog on Social Justice Coaching, zooming in on individuals’ resilience leads to feelings of shame or of being overwhelmed. Telling people to increase their resilience through greater self-care in our current reality is like putting a band-aid on a bullet hole. Social justice activists often describe this approach as weaponising resilience. Amid systems of corruption, deconstruction, and social injustices, telling people to be more resilient or to up their self-care is cruel. It places disproportionate pressure on individuals in contexts where demands on them are rising.

This is not a new trend. I see its echoes in my own socialisation and sensemaking of the world. For most of my life, I gained a strong sense of self from being confident that I could bounce back from challenging life situations. Like many, I felt a sense of accomplishment when I withstood traumatic life events or continued functioning even as I experienced severe shocks. I would numb myself and disconnect from my feelings and my body’s response. The notion that anyone can achieve greater self-care is part of white supremacy ideology that asserts that everyone, regardless of their social stratum, should aspire to, and can attain resilience. The problem is that opportunities and resources are not equally distributed, and even those who strive for greater self-care and resilience continue to suffer or be blamed for not achieving the desired outcomes, despite their efforts.

The impact of resilience discourse on the individual

The word resilience is often bandied about in a way that makes it hard for individuals to admit they struggle to “be resilient”. Resilience has become a weapon. Those who struggle are considered not quite good enough to handle what they should be able to and to require more training. In the current context, we find ourselves not having the time to work through some of our experiences before we have to come out fighting again. As a result, we end up beating ourselves up for not being more ‘resilient’.

In the past, I would lean into these definitions and tune out my real experience. I was afraid that if I allowed myself the time to feel the effects of my experience, I would have a breakdown. After all, definitions of resilience do not explain how one becomes resilient. And I did not see many stories in which ‘freaking out’ or ‘falling apart’ were illuminated as part of the pathway to resilience. So I learnt to shut down those aspects of my experience in order to go on. However, the cumulative effect was that the moment I reached the other side of the storm, my whole body would shut down, and my experience of such an extreme shutdown would mean that I had no option but to tend to the ignored messages of my body, my heart and my spirit.

Over the years, I abused my ‘resilient’ capability, sometimes laughingly referring to my high pain threshold and my ability to remain functional. Of course, while I lauded this capability, those in my personal and professional life would celebrate this ‘superpower’ with me because I was ‘so resilient’. The fact that I didn’t acknowledge how fragile I felt or ask for help was compounded by those who normalised this unhealthy pattern by saying, “Oh, you are ok, you are strong”, instead of reminding me to slow down, to connect and to ask for support.

I think the assumptions and expectations linked to my ‘fragile’ strength were what triggered me to look closely at the dominant narrative of resilience which I held. Because I appeared strong, nobody knew that I, too, needed care and holding during periods of stress, shock, loss and trauma. Nor did I or anyone else in my life recognise that I was accumulating trauma or stress that would come to bite me in the ass later. This meant that unless I was ready to repattern, I would continue in times of distress without the care and support I needed from myself and from those nearest and dearest to me.

I decided to examine this narrative of resilience by interrogating the systemic roots of our need to be resilient and what it means. I am not discounting the adaptations we all must make to adjust to life events such as death, divorce, separation and failure. However, for most of us, these life events are happening in a world where we also experience ongoing patterns of domination, extraction, and supremacy. These fuel violence, cause inter-generational trauma and thrive on breaking down the spirit, imagination and resilience of marginalised peoples, particularly those who challenge the status quo; adding to our stress and trauma.

We cannot look at our own resilience without understanding how we have internalised white supremacy culture and its characteristics – fear, perfectionism, individualism, either-or binaries, denial and defensiveness, urgency, rights to comfort and fear of conflict. If we make the connection between our individual experiences and these systems, we come to realise that the ‘resilience’ that we are taught throughout our lives values bravery, commitment, sacrifice and selflessness. At the same time, when we are struggling with our mental and emotional wellbeing and are unable to care for ourselves well, we feel we have less developed resilient capabilities. This triggers shame, blame and guilt.

It was important for me to understand that the resilience we keep on touting is culturally mediated and laden with social and political implications. Because these systemic aspects of our experiences are invisible, we are less inclined to reveal our fears and our vulnerabilities, and thus feel compelled to depend on private rather than collective coping strategies.

So how do we reframe resilience as revolutionary?

Generative Somatics co-founder Staci Haines describes resilience as, “Our ability to bounce back – like moss after we’ve stepped on it, or to find our intactness again. It is our ability to ‘come back’ to ourselves, physiologically and psychologically, from traumatic hyperalert states to calmed, cohesive states. It is the ability to regain a sense of hope and imagine a positive future. Resilience allows for safety, belonging and dignity to be re-established.”

Resilience isn’t just another gear you shift into when things get tough. The need for resilience is a shrieking alarm signalling that something is fundamentally wrong. Instead of expecting resilience from individuals, we need to confront what has created the underlying causes of the distress that demands resilience – such as inequality, discrimination or the obsession with productivity. While resilience can help us overcome challenges, it does not magically solve the underlying causes.

That is why revolutionary resilience starts by disrupting current patterns of individualising what is systemic while also recognising that individual resilience is needed to resist internalised systemic oppression. In many of the feminist organising spaces I work in, the emphasis is on practising self and collective care, healing from trauma, and aligning actions and practice with visions of a world where we can all thrive. In other words, we work from a mindset that we are all worthy of care and that our individual resilience depends on our ability to nurture our wellbeing. Revolutionary resilience starts with building our capabilities to tune into the experiences of our bodies and emotions and recognising that they will change in response to different situations. Simultaneously, we need to build the capacity to connect to others and seek solidarity and support.

Revolutionary resilience also means that we need to name and challenge current discourses and models of care that marginalise and burden already vulnerable populations with shouldering responsibility for their own care, as well as the care of those in their circles. A feminist ethic of care allows individuals to approach adversity brought about through crises from the standpoint of “we” rather than as individuals. Resilience is not simply a matter of “bouncing back,” but also an opportunity for “bouncing forward” as it enables individual and community growth. Such approaches support care as restorative and transformative when those giving the care recognise the needs of those receiving care and how those needs might be exacerbated by existing systemic conditions¹. Revolutionary resilience, therefore recognises that the individual’s reservoir of care is finite.

In support of this approach, policies and practices should re-examine the cost of care by clarifying what individuals can be expected to do. At the same time, creating or expanding networks of care can replenish the finite ability of individuals to care for themselves and others.