Notes from Minneapolis

On the Verge of Burnout When Quitting Isn’t an Option

1. A Few Selected Glimpses

My couple’s therapist shaved his beard, and when I noticed he told me it was because he patrols his neighborhood to drive out ICE eight to ten hours a week and with the beard his gas mask was ineffective. It wouldn’t seal. He also told me how cold his face feels now. I think of him bouncing between volunteer patrolling and his paid work as a therapist. It’s so much. He simply said, “I feel lucky to do this work.”

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My friend’s young elementary aged kid was walking around yodeling at home, and she asked him about it. He said he learned it at school. That the teachers now yodel to have students come in from recess because they don’t want to alarm anyone by using whistles like they used to. Whistles are now used city-wide to signal that ICE is present and call for help to drive them out.

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A neighbor and friend, who was born in Mexico and has been a US citizen with all of her paperwork for most of her life, now carries her passport around with her everywhere she goes. She practices presenting it to federal agents in the mirror in hopes that if she ever is confronted by ICE, she can stay calm enough to stay safe.

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I saw a black SUV in a parking lot today that had “NOT ICE” on the windows in temporary paint to distinguish itself.

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Before almost every yoga class I have taught over the last few weeks, someone has come to check in with me at the front desk and quietly said something like, “I am going to put my mat in the back, and I might just cry and fall apart a little bit.” I reply, “Of course. Of course. Sometimes that is the most appropriate human response. Do what you need to do. Feel what you feel.”

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We have stopped asking each other, “How are you?” We have replaced it with things like “It is good to see you.” Or “Thank you for being here.”

2. The Tremendously Demanding Work of Nonviolent Observing

An astounding number of ordinary people in Minneapolis are taking on the role of patroller and observer in hopes of protecting neighbors from ICE raids. I have several friends who patrol and observe in almost all of their free time. One asked and received permission from his boss to work from home so he could patrol in between meetings and help keep his neighborhood safe. Another has a boss who gave his employees a half day to patrol and observe each week, and he answers calls whenever he can on the other days, too. Yet another is letting professional deadlines pass because he goes out to observe so often. The people I know who are on the verge of serious burnout from patrolling are men without children. They believe it is their role to go out as often as possible because of the privilege of their bodies and the flexibility of their lives. I see how hard it is for them to stay peaceful. I see how hard it is for them to shift from patrolling to their paid work or ordinary and mundane tasks or relaxing or having fun. They feel guilty for taking breaks. They are amazing, and many of them are un or under trained. And it is taking its toll on their minds, hearts, and bodies.

As soon as I got on the secure neighborhood chat groups to help patrol, I noticed how hard it is on my nervous system. The need is urgent and constant. The volume of messages is intensely large and coming in fast. You have to move immediately, and you are not sure what you are driving into. The risk to go out and patrol is high. People are getting tear gases, tackled, and shot. And the stakes are high compared to donating money or delivering food. People patrolling feel like they might be able to actually stop another human from being taken to detention centers and separated from family. There are moments when you feel like you are really doing something tangible to save someone. And then other moments it feels so futile and you wonder if it’s making any difference at all.

I think of people in my life who are trained to be on call, who are trained to be emergency relief professionals, and how diligent they need to be to not get overwhelmed with secondary trauma. We are not trained but doing it anyway.

I think of observers over history. When I was young, I studied the civil wars in Central America and the US’s role in them. Military leaders in places like El Salvador were often trained at The School of the Americas in Georgia in tactics of torture and massacre. Our government would fund these foreign militaries, so the atrocities continued. In El Salvador, for example, the civil war raged for twelve years. Some Americans traveled to Central America to live in villages and act as observers willing to report human rights violations. They hoped that their presence would deter violence against civilians. That their presence would make it harder for the powers to be to do the wrong thing. The powers to be who were funded and armed by the US.

Today, Minneapolis residents are taking on that same role of observer with their secure messaging apps, cell phones, whistles, and blow horns, hoping that their presence will deter violence by federal agents in our city.

I think of civil rights activists, trained in the work of nonviolence before an action. In the same class I taught the book The Massacre of El Mezote, I taught the book Walking with the Wind. In it, John Lewis wrote about his extensive training in non-violence as spiritual practice. He trained to be able to sit calmly during a moment of planned civil disobedience while people screamed at him, spit in his face, and often got violent. It is serious work that needs serious training. To absorb hatred and vitriol and violence inside of your body, metabolize it, and kick it back as love. One of the tactics John Lewis’ mentors trained was imagining the screaming, spitting bully as a child and loving that child who turned into the violent adult in front of him.

Today, Minneapolis residents are walking out their front door and driving their neighborhoods to put their bodies in places that deeply matter. We are working so hard to stay peaceful. It is taking its toll on us. It’s too much, and it has become our normal with no clear end in sight.

3. Things That Feel Scary to Say to Documented Citizens in Minneapolis During This Hellscape but I Have Said Because I Believe they are True

Resting is not quitting.

When things get intense, go back to the basics. Breathe and notice that you are breathing. When you do feel safe, drop your breath down into your diaphragm and allow your upper chest to rest. Notice your sensory details. Name what you are doing as you are doing it. Be in the moment you are in. Drink water. Balance action with rest and sleep.

There are so many moments when you are ok. When you are safe. When you do have enough. Notice these moments. Live in calm when you can and visit activated when it’s called for. Stress is not bad for you. The right amount of stress in moments appropriate for stress helps you perform better and stay safe. Getting stuck in stress, however, can lead to sickness and burnout. Our neighbors need you to stay as well as you can as often as you can for as long as you can.

Joy is part of the resistance.

Notice how much information is the right amount of information to stay engaged in helpful ways. It could be more helpful to show up to community regulated than it is to be perfectly informed.

Standing up for our vulnerable neighbors is the work of our lives. We have to find a sustainable pace. We have to take turns. We have to ask for help.

If you notice yourself pitching forward, pull back into alignment and trust the strength of your stacked skeleton so that muscles that are not supposed to be working hard can rest. Unclench your jaw. Soften your shoulders.

If you are new to the movement, look for the work that is already happening and join with open ears and eyes. Giving money is not as sexy or Instagram-able, but it is desperately needed. Rent is due.

We are outraged, and yes it feels complicated when that outrage takes a back seat for whatever reason, but those moments are not aloofness. Stay present. Take it one day at a time.

Parenting in a way that lets kids be kids is part of the work of nonviolence.

If you are patrolling a lot and feeling on edge, maybe choose a second lane of engagement additionally so you can find balance between the two, and help others feel equipped to patrol so you don’t feel like you have to do it all the time. Maybe grab a friend. Maybe create a schedule with friends so you can take turns. There is work to do in your body, in your relationships, in your institutions, and in your systems all the time.

Be on team creation.

It will never feel like enough because it isn’t. The system wants us to feel overwhelmed, exhausted, isolated, scared, and confused. Anything that acts as an antidote to those feelings is part of the work, too.

Carve out time to grieve. To process your emotions. Feeling hopeless is understandable. Sometimes hope is not a feeling but acting anyway.

Onward.