Paying attention is a pointless and a revolutionary act. You won’t change the world by opening a news app. You won’t stop a dreamer or international student or American from being stolen and imprisoned. You won’t stop the assault on LGBTQ+ people. Reading that article won’t immunize the air, water or our bodies from the anti-science policies set by rich men wrapped in the bubbles of their access to air conditioning and the ability to relocate to space…one day.
Some would argue that paying attention is pointless, that to know is to worry about something you can’t do anything about. If you have the time- call a senator, protest. If you have the money- donate, save journalism or throw your cash up into the air and hope it lands in a non-profit fighting cancer that just lost their research funds. Or come to think of it, knowledge without action is useless and action is useless so maybe do nothing.
But what if paying attention was something? What if every time you stopped to learn something- for a minute even, that act of curiosity and concern was just as powerful as those thoughts or prayers you keep sending.
What each of us can do is limited to the amount of time and energy and awareness we have. But doing that something, whatever it is, is a bold, revolutionary act.
As the 2024 presidential election drew to a close my yoga studio advertised classes to detox from politics- a place to gather on our mats, breathe and lose the negativity of constant political messaging. As if politics were the elite’s twisted passion project being forced down our throats. As if our mats could fill the void of slashed Medicaid benefits. On a recent drive to the suburbs to visit a lavender farm, I rolled through streets decked with towering homes and lush gardens and thought about how easy it is to be tucked away. To travel or live in areas where the reality of immigrants torn from their families is rhetoric we don’t connect with our votes- a fake, exaggerated or special interest news story that has nothing to do with our daily lives. And the shot of a trendy official in front of prison is like a double deadbolt on our doors. Security, nothing more, justified by the narrative of rampant criminality. The message to not care is delivered to us under the guise of self-care. My home, my space, my mat.
The idea that we should pay attention is met with hostility. On July 4th I stroll through a public garden and pass a woman bemoaning that family member who “starts it by bringing up politics.” The civil pact is to ignore what’s happening in the world. To pretend that our votes and non-votes have no bearing on ripping families apart, killing people who can’t afford healthcare, costing federal workers’ families income and security, putting pregnant people at risk of death and infertility, stoking racism and setting civil rights back. And when we say, “How are you?” the response is, “I’m fine.”
America is not fine. And heads in the sand will not heal or protect.
I was recently reminded of the power of thoughts and prayers. When you’re in crisis, there’s a realization of how utterly vulnerable you are. You pray because there’s nothing else you can do. Not knowing if it matters, not knowing what you believe, you do it anyway. You can’t pray and not get something. For some people it’s increased faith. For others it’s inner strength. But you walk away changed.
The news is like that. There is no required length, format or source (other than to avoid sources of misinformation). Dooms scrolling is not recommended. But when you pay attention, even for a few minutes a week, it can’t help but soften your heart and open your mind.
I came across a news story from my home town. I was raised in a middle income blue collar suburb, a stone’s throw from a steel mill development. I was raised by fervently religious parents. The values I thought belonged to the religion I knew do not match the values I see on the electorate map and they do not match the values inherent in what is not allowed to be said. Protesters from my home town laid themselves outside their representative’s office and took drone shots of their staged die-in- to stop the passage of that “big, beautiful bill.”
The bill passed, and in celebration the president, holding the megaphone handed to him with American votes, openly expressed his hatred for half the country.
But I think about those bodies lying on the ground in our hometown and I wonder if you saw that news. I wonder if this story touched you. And I wish this was something we could talk about.
Voting is a revolutionary act. While electoral politics and state voting laws aim to block the power of the vote, the act of not giving up that right is extremely powerful. Consuming news, in the quantity and format that’s right for each of us, determines how we show up to vote. Will our vote be an extension of the privileges we’ve come to believe are our right? Will we use entertaining, popular voices to justify our ignorance of how issues impact real people? Or will our votes be an expression of what we want others to believe about us?
If we were proud of our votes, we wouldn’t need to shame others into not bringing up politics. If we voted as we prayed, we would want to be informed about the impact policies had on other people, and do everything we could to help them. If we believed the best of what we’ve been taught we’d be laying our bodies down for representatives to reckon with.
An informed voter is an enemy of an authoritarian state. Join the fight.
