What do we do when our government says that it hates us and doesn't care if we die?

Just two things (in a million different ways)

“We Share,” a gorgeous design that you can purchase from the talented Jen Bloomer of Radici Studios.

I started writing this last night, when it was clear which direction the political wings were blowing. I didn’t finish until after the news became official. A small bit of magical thinking on my part, I know.

Today, though, it is the day before the Fourth of July and the country of our dreams will require far more than magic. A truly awful bill passed both houses of Congress. Because of it, rich people will get richer and many other people— poor and working-class people especially— will die. This bill will throw people in jail and strip others of their civil rights. It will fund bombs instead of breakfast, ICE instead of insulin. It screams at all of us: Your government doesn’t care about you.

I am so grateful for all those who, for months now, have been beating the righteous drums of opposition. I am grateful for the hope-filled harranguers who lit up Congressional switchboards, the millions of people who marched, the beleaguered advocacy groups who all did their part. Although it’s hard to believe, there is a version of this bill that is far worse, one that would have passed if so many people hadn’t raised a fuss. That’s not an argument against heartbreak and rage right now, but it’s instructive.

It is admirable that we tried, but heartbreaking that we lost. Our elected leaders stood before two doors, one of them marked “continue current patterns of inhumanity” and the other “ratchet up the inhumanity” and God I wish that they had walked through the first one. I wish that the math of the Senate and the House and everything that’s overly craven about the current Republican Party and everything that’s overly feckless about the current Democratic Party didn’t make walking through that second door the near inevitable option.

What I really wish, of course, is that there were other doors immediately available to us. I wish there was a door marked “no child starving/nobody dying a needless, lonely death/nobody kicked to the curb.” A door marked “this country finally becomes a loving place for all of us.” Another reminder, there is a long game and a short game here. We’re still building.

What a tragedy. The only thing that could make it worse is if our despair triggered another series of tiny tragedies. Not tragedies of action, but inaction.

I am so sorry we’re in this moment, but we’ll all be even sorrier if we give up.

As I see it, there are only two tasks worth our time right now. If you have followed my writing for a while, neither of these will surprise you. I may only know a single song, but if I invite enough of you to sing along, some day we’ll be a chorus. By saying “there are only two tasks” I’m not inferring that there are only two specific things you need to do. I’m giving a framework. A few months ago, I wrote about "30 lonely but beautiful actions….” to oppose fasciism right now. Those are 30 different types of actions, but they all added up to the same two goals.

-Raise hell and build power

-Love harder than the fascists can hate

Those are cute, pithy slogans (I even made one of them into a t shirt). I get the critique, though. Sloganeering can feel too formless. We want direction now, especially in the wake of legislative heartbreak. But direction doesn’t just come from a list of scattered actions that will, if we’re being honest, do more to tickle your “I need to do something” cravings than they will to build a better world.

I don’t just want temporary reprieve from my own anxiety. I want my work to add up to something more than a salve for frayed nerves. I want to make sure that where I’m putting my limited energy actually contributes to a better future. That’s why I keep coming back to the two things. It’s always the two things.

Raise hell and build power.

Love harder than the fascists can hate.

When I say raise hell and build power I mean that, even if you lose the battle, you don’t cede the political war.

Should every single Republican Congressperson and Senator be hounded incessantly for voting to kill and starve their constituents? Absolutely. At their town halls (when they have them) but more than that. At their offices. At the Capitol itself. At public events. At events they don’t attend (here’s to the “where’s ______” empty chair town halls). Fusses should be made, the kind of fusses that get media attention and keep the spotlight on how this Congress just attacked their neighbors and, if they wanted, they could try to make it right. It’s time for coast-to-coast die-ins.

Should you actively share your outrage in your community? 100%. Movements are built on emotional storytelling and connection. If you’re scared for yourself and loved ones right now, if you’re apoplectic at the scale of harm that’s at our doorstep… your co-workers, friends, families and neighbors should know about it. Strongmen win when we metabolize new horrific developments and pretend that life is normal. Opposition to fascism, on the other hand, grows when people keep saying to each other “I’m not doing ok! And here’s why!”

Should those of us who want to raise hell engage in electoral politics, particularly with 2026 much closer than we’d think? Yes, of course (though I understand the emotions behind those who’d like to detach themselves from the current Democratic Party right now). Just not exclusively, and not just for any replacement level Democratic candidate. Now is the time to support the campaigns and candidates (both locally and nationally) that inspire us the most, not just that we feel obligated to support because they’re the “smart” or “consensus” choice. We should treat the slickest, most consultant-driven campaigns with a healthy dose of skepticism and instead pay attention to which candidates actually seem to care about their neighbors the most.

Oh and the text messages and emails? Delete them. If a candidate is worthy of your time and money, they will prove it to you in another way. Now, when things are at the worst, is the time to reject any politics or any politicians that make us feel like crap. We’re building hope you all, not mailing lists.

Should you stop there, though, holding out hope for the next cycle? No! We also need to build actual political infrastructure where we live, by organizing unions in our workplaces, by attending the long (often extremely boring!) minutiae of the local political organizations that we believe in the most (for some reading this, that would be the Democratic Party or a local Indivisible Group, for others it’s the Working Families or Democratic Socialists) and by getting into the weeds of local community organizing efforts.

That’s not all the work, but it’s a start. And I want you filling in the gaps with your imagination. When you hear “raise hell and build power” what comes to mind? Whatever the answer, go and do that, and invite others to join you.

When I say “love harder than the fascists can hate I mean both caring for those around us who need it the most, while building and sustaining the spaces that we need to trust, know and build with one another.

Should we try to fill in the (suddenly much larger) gaps in the social safety net in the places where we live? In all honesty, we have no choice. I wish so much that I could trust our government to provide a decent, dignified life for all Americans. We’re not there, especially now. And that means that the people in your community plugging in those gaps— the mutual aid efforts, the soup kitchens, the free medical clinics, the immigration rights offices— need your support (both money and time).

Should we take the risk, if we’re the ones in our community who need immediate material help, of naming that out loud? Yes, and I know that doing so is scary, but it’s also so important. We can only take care of one another (and sustain all the rage we need to raise hell) if we actually know the needs of those around us.

Should we, given the urgency of the moment, spend any time on building community spaces that aren’t just about electoral politics and direct aid? Even ones that might seem frivolous? I mean, we also have no choice. We can’t know what our neighbors need right now if we don’t know our neighbors. If we want more people to want to take a risk on all we believe in— a government that cares, a collective politics of compassion, an opposition to the cruelties of capitalism, fascism and empire— we need them to know that our side throws the best parties.

Speaking of which, should anti-fascists host Fourth of July cookouts? My friends, anti-fascists should host cookouts and potlucks and block parties and game nights and sewing circles and book clubs and raves and basement punk rock shows and high falutin’ literary salons and pontoon boat parties at the lake and country line dance nights and every single variety of party, because yes we are outraged but much more than that we are in love with life. We should do so for this complicated, fraught holiday and for every complicated, fraught holiday.

What about you? Do you matter in this? Yes, if we’re going to sustain the work needed of us (while also surviving ourselves) we need to have people around us who help us. We too deserve to have third (and fourth and fifth) spaces that nourish and sustain us. That’s not selfish. It’s deeply entwined with our vision for the world— no martyrs, but nobody exempt from caring for others.

And yes, I wish we didn’t have to build so many of those spaces from scratch. I know that we’re terrified to text our buddies and say “want to do a monthly game night” or to hang flyers on our neighbors’ doors saying “hey, join a signal chat for the block that’s not about complaining about crime or spreading weird rumors but is just about getting to know each other better” and for good reason. I wish that there wasn’t an inherent paradox in the fact that we so badly crave a village that makes our lives easier and less stressful, but it is the stress and responsibilities of our life that make it so hard to do so.

I know it’s hard, and if there’s anything at all that I can do to help make it easier for you to plug in, raise hell and love out loud I’d be honored if you reach out. That’s why I write these essays, why I run Barnraisers trainings, and why I share my email address even though I already owe so many of you messages (garrett at barnraisersproject.org). And I know I’m not the only one who wants to help. If you want to be a better neighbor and a more committed activist right now, there’s so many of us that would love to have your back.

We’ve always known that we’d have to build this road by walking it. We live in a country that is both politically rigged and deeply atomized. We are trying to fill both of these holes simultaneously. And we should. And, to be honest, we can. But not if we don’t stay focused. Everything we do should lead up to the two goals. Raise hell and build power, and love harder than the fascists can hate. Our work. Our activism. Our parties. Our relationships. This moment is about holding each other up, and rattling some cages while we’re at it. Each goal supports the other. Or better put, each goal supports each other.

Be mad today. Be heartbroken. Be scared. And share that out loud.

And when you’re ready, keep it up, friends. I’ll be there by your side.

garrettbucks

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End notes:

1. In the spirit of both raising hell and sustaining community, this is a space that sometimes takes on heady topics like how to fight authoritarianism and sometimes talks about the other things that make hard lives worth living. That’s a long wind-up to say that I will still be doing the next White Pages Summer Movie Series event tonight. It’s an experiment and it may completely fail I’ll be doing a live watch of Arrival for paid subscribers (I’ve never seen it! You all keep telling me it’s amazing!) using the Substack chat function. 8:30 PM Central Time (and then available afterward). If that’s not your thing, it’s easily ignorable. If that is your thing, come check it out!

2. I don’t normally write two public essays a week, but I know so many are shaken by the bill so wanted to get this one out here. Earlier this week, I ranted about AI and said nice things about you all and your capacity for creativity. I stand by both beliefs!

3. Back to this moment. It is very hopeless. And also, did you see this? It was a die-in yesterday, in front of GOP Congressman Brian Fitzpatrick’s office in Pennsylvania. Shortly afterwards, Fitzpatrick flipped and voted against the bill. My friends, keep it up.