Fighting Back: A Relational Approach to Trauma, Resistance, and Preventing Burnout
If oppressive systems function by severing relationships—disconnecting us from our bodies, each other, and the land—then healing is resistance. The task is not just to fight back, but to sustain the fight without becoming what we are resisting.
This Has Always Been a Reality for Some
For many, it feels like the world is collapsing—mass layoffs, authoritarian policies, disappearing safety nets. There is fear, grief, exhaustion. People ask: “What do we do? How do we fight back?”
But for many communities, this collapse is not new. Black, Indigenous, disabled, queer, and other marginalised groups have carried the weight of a toxic, extractive system for generations—one that was never built to sustain them in the first place. The land, waters, and more-than-human world have also borne the burden of this violence, ravaged by industries that see only resource, never relationship.
If we are feeling overwhelmed by this moment, we must remember: there are those who have been here before, who have held grief, rage, and resistance through generations. Our work now is not to demand answers, but to listen—to respect and learn with and from those who have been tending to the impossible within toxic systems long before we realised they were failing.
Fighting back is not just about strategy. It’s about what sustains us in the process.
This is not about fixing ourselves so we can be better at resisting. It is about rebuilding the conditions that allow us to keep going, to refuse, and to dream beyond survival.
If You’re Engaging in Organising, Protect Your Capacity
Burnout is not failure—it’s a sign that too few people are carrying too much. Redistribute the load.
Your nervous system is not a machine. Trauma responses (hypervigilance, exhaustion, numbness) are normal under long-term stress. Tend to them.
Set boundaries around urgency. Not everything is an emergency. Pausing is an act of strategy, not apathy.
Be in right relation. If your work benefits from the wisdom of frontline communities, reciprocate. Ask what is needed—not what you assume is needed.
If You’re Refusing, Honour Your Withdrawal
Not everyone is organising. Some are refusing, grieving, or struggling to function in a collapsing world. That is just as valid. If you are in this space:
You don’t owe your body, mind, or energy to the movement. Rest is not passive—it is a form of reclamation.
Heal in ways that centre connection, not just self-regulation. Trauma isolates; resistance rebuilds relationships. Find even one person—or place—that can hold space with you.
Refusal does not mean disengagement. Quiet resistance—caring for others, holding space, protecting joy—is still part of the work.
If You’re Somewhere In Between, Build Relational Resilience
Know that trauma responses shape how we fight, flight, freeze or fawn. A trauma-informed movement will not punish people for disengaging when overwhelmed.
Prioritize nervous system regulation as a collective practice. How we feel shapes what we can do.
Grieve what is being lost. Endings are painful. Acknowledge the weight of what is happening, and know that grief is a sign of connection, not weakness.
The More-Than-Human World Holds Knowledge, Too
Look to the land. The earth holds stories of destruction and renewal. It has survived mass extinctions, ice ages, colonial extractions, and the deep scars of industrial violence. It also remembers how to heal.
Listen to non-human kin. The waters, forests, fungi, and animal worlds have always known how to adapt, how to care, how to resist extraction through reciprocity. We are not the first to face collapse. We do not have to do it alone.
Practice reverence, not control. Healing does not come from dominance, but from relationship. The land does not belong to us—we belong to it.
The Long Work of Healing and Resistance
Trauma teaches urgency. But movements that last require care, pacing, and relational repair. Fascism thrives on exhaustion, scarcity, and fear—resisting means refusing to let it steal our capacity for joy, connection, and imagination.
So the real question isn’t just “How do we fight back?”—it’s “How do we sustain the fight without becoming what we are resisting?”
We already know what to do. The task now is to sustain it—together, in right relation with each other, the land, and all beings who are in this with us.
An Invitation
How are you sustaining yourself in this time of rupture?
How do you balance resistance with care?
What wisdom have you learned from communities and more-than-human kin that helps you navigate this moment?
Let’s think, feel, and (re/un)build together.
