In an increasingly polarized world, large-scale demonstrations have defined our reality. The cries of protest have never been louder than when anger is our only crutch. But at some point, the line between pure rage and determination can blur, and we begin to forget our end goal.
This is especially visible in large-scale protests, where the adrenaline of working alongside others and the thrill of crowd behavior dominate, causing people to act differently than is typical for them. According to a paper published by the Social Science Research Network, collective-action events, such as marches, rallies, and riots, often cause emotion amplification and shifts in personality and typical action.
Yet, no change has ever come from complete stasis. Demonstrations are undeniably powerful, as evidenced by the Boston Tea Party to the civil rights marches in the 1960s. In fact, disruptive protest and public dissent are central components of both the First Amendment and in creating positive change, according to an article published by the Albany Law Review.
Nevertheless, no matter how strong the anger, protest driven solely by rage cannot be sustained long term. According to the American Psychological Association, although anger is a natural, healthy emotion, consistently reacting on impulse can result in extremely detrimental effects. The term “battle fatigue” is often used to describe such prolonged exhaustion and can result in severe physical and mental health issues, ranging from chronic stress, anxiety, and depression to cardiovascular problems like high blood pressure.
This is not to say that we should stop these demonstrations. However, there is another healthier fuel of protest that we frequently disregard: joy.
Often overshadowed by more radical forms, joyful protest is often expressed through volunteering, creating art, or singing peaceful, powerful songs together. This activism redirects anger towards positive action, promoting passion, empathy, and responsibility, according to the National Institutes of Health.
During the Holocaust, Giuseppe Verdi’s Requiem, a musical composition exploring life and death, was sung by Jewish prisoners at a concentration camp in Terezín. A recent performance of the piece caused the Public Broadcasting Service to reflect on the importance of these prisoners maintaining their morale, and they realized that by proving that their humanity could not be stripped away, the prisoners sent a powerful message to the Nazis.
They proved that joyful protest is more than resistance: it is hope.
The same hope that I’ve discovered by stepping outside of my brain after reading the most recent news or laughing over a joke with my friends. And in the same way that we follow a schedule when we go to school each day, laughter has become the poster child of normalcy. Over shared interests and simple conversations, we can define ourselves beyond our opposition and take pride in our individuality and community.
I won’t deny that the power of song and idioms that remind you to “enjoy the small moments” has become schmaltzy, even cheesy, from overuse. Nevertheless, if we are not willing to consider the benefits of everyday joys, how can we claim that our happiness is not a statement?
Regardless of its form, existence is resistance. Survival serves as proof that we are fighting for something, and without that, we will eventually burn out. If we focus on community building and discover outputs for creativity, then we can begin to fight not only against evil but for good.
“Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism,” said Rebecca Solnit, the author of “Hope in the Dark.” “And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated, and isolated, joy is a fine initial act of insurrection.”
