We are sharing this chapter of Act, Rest, Reset, Repeat by Katie Hodgetts for members of our Hopeful Book Club.
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Chapter 8
You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time.
Angela Davis
Narratives are the stories we tell ourselves about each other, ourselves and our societies. They shape our understanding of the world and our place in it. Metanarratives such as capitalism and patriarchy are overarching, societal-level stories or frameworks that provide a broad explanation for how the world functions and why. They shape cultural, political and economic systems by offering guiding principles and values, influencing the way we view our roles in society. Narratives such as “Your job equals your social status”, “We work a five-day week and have a two-day weekend”, and “Boys don’t wear pink”, have become deeply ingrained in cultural norms and practices. But these stories are exactly that: stories. They are narratives masquerading as truth, and hence there is space for resistance, reclamation and reimagination.
Capitalist metanarratives contribute to burnout as the tenets of perpetual growth, competition and efficiency insinuate that we must constantly do more to be of value. In this context, individual contributions to changemaking are often framed as never enough; there is always more that could be done, a higher level of sacrifice to be achieved. This pressure can transform a genuine desire to help into an exhausting burden. Burnout becomes not an unfortunate by-product, but a predictable consequence of internalizing the capitalist ideal that our worth is measured by how much we can produce, give or sacrifice, regardless of the cost to ourselves.
Layered atop this is the influence of another metanarrative of white supremacy, which has long dictated whose labour is valued, whose voices are heard and whose lives are considered worthy of saving. White supremacy constructs spoken and unspoken hierarchies of worthiness, even within movements for justice and sustainability. It has historically privileged some voices as experts while dismissing, exploiting, oppressing or tokenizing People of Colour and LGBTQIA+ folk. White supremacy, at its core, is a system of power and control that establishes and maintains a social hierarchy where whiteness is held as the standard of value, intelligence and morality. The notion of perfectionism, deeply embedded in white supremacy, dictates that there is a right way to be, act and succeed, which is an impossible, often rigidly defined ideal that few can attain. Historically it has imposed stringent, often unattainable, expectations upon marginalized communities, demanding they “prove” their worthiness, capability or humanity in ways that are never required of those who hold privilege, meaning they need to work twice as hard as their privileged counterparts.
Emmanuella Blake Morsi is a young multidisciplinary artist and creative researcher. As a changemaker, they have a passion for reimagining and building opportunities toward a more inclusive and meaningful world. For all the amazing work they have contributed, they are no stranger to burnout. They shared with me how metanarratives have shaped their life: “I was born in Port Harcourt, Nigeria and grew up in Bristol, UK being a Black, Queer, neurodiverse migrant. I had so much internalized hatred that was fixed around misogynoir, which has racism and sexism intertwined. You’re raised to believe that you’re not good enough and you have to achieve so much more to prove your value. It led to a lot of misplaced hurt and pain where you’re conditioned to feel disempowered, and becoming frequently depressed, suicidal and unwell. As I got older and evolved in my self-awareness, internal work and outer activism, it’s been such a powerful thing to learn that my burnout has been a lot more intrinsically related to not being able to function in the current state of society that normalizes capitalism, white supremacy and ableism.”
Emmanuella continues, “We’ve built society in a way that your ability to function requires constant output, lacks space for reflection and sees difference and empathy as weakness. So, we don’t start with the tools or infrastructure we need to build systems of care. There are many barriers to building progressive solutions that address the harms that have already been done, let alone offer an alternative way of doing and being. So, it’s essential on this journey we counter these narratives and understand the importance of our role as part of wider action within communities, as this becomes vital for redistribution of resources and more focused contributions, which nurtures long-term resilience in this work.”
Emmanuella speaks to the heart of this work: the narratives inherited by Western society and traditional education structures do not offer us the tools to collectively thrive and flourish. Internal work, collective healing and rewriting narratives become of critical importance, or we will further create spaces that mirror unequal, unfair and individualistic systems. Interrogating the stories we’ve been told unearths the rich landscape of things we might need to unlearn.
While metanarratives can be likened to the play we have found ourselves cast in, personal, social and community narratives can be likened to the script we’ve been given.
These are culturally shared stories that shape collective identities and aspirations, often providing a sense of purpose or direction and influencing our perceptions of success and failure. In my own youth activist space, I saw narratives crafting a collective idea of what it means to be an effective activist, leading to burnout, exhaustion and self-sacrifice. For example, the narrative that “You need to be a perfect activist” was never uttered, but it was collectively felt, inherited from broader, more historic structures. Perfect activism looked like being clued up on every socio-environmental issue, making no mistakes with terminology, being meticulously vegan, and living as close to a zero-carbon lifestyle as possible. Baked into this narrative was another: you’re not worthy if you’re not perfect. If someone deviated from this impossible standard, they were shamed or seen as less committed. We internalized the belief that if we fell short of perfect, we were no use. We were an imposter. We did not belong.
Striving for perfection manifests in the constant, exhausting drive to “do it all”, to make no errors and never to appear inconsistent. This false ideal reinforces hierarchies within movements, favouring those with the time and capacity to appear more productive. It creates exclusionary dynamics that undermine solidarity and community, causing some youth to not only leave the movement but feel damaged by it. Those who are perceived to fall short, whether through lack of expertise, resources, or even by making honest mistakes, are often dismissed, shamed or sidelined, mirroring the systemic marginalization baked into white supremacy itself. The constant need to showcase achievements, accumulate knowledge or demonstrate one’s commitment through tangible acts results in a culture that prioritizes optics over genuine impact. Conflict becomes the main reason for quitting – not because of climate politics but because of human politics.
Exercise: Unearthing Narratives
Objective: Consider the non-exhaustive list of narratives below that I’ve come across in changemaking spaces that I’ve heard over the years. Then write down reflections about the questions that follow, making a list of all the examples you have experienced.
Harmful narratives contribute to our feelings of burnout as we feel stress, pressure and inadequacy at collective, individual and systemic levels. Try to speak using “I”, citing your own experiences rather what you imagine others feel. Remember that narratives are different for all of us.
Narratives
- To be a legitimate changemaker, I must live a completely eco-compliant life.
- I’m not doing enough.
- It’s my responsibility to fix this.
- If I don’t do it, who will?
- My actions won’t make a difference.
- Because of the horrors that are unfolding, rest is self-indulgent.
- Taking time off is selfish.
- Really looking at these crises will inhibit my productivity, so I can’t.
- The urgency of the crisis means that I need to give my whole self to the cause.
Questions
- Which narratives above did you resonate with? When do you feel them more and less intensely?
- What narratives contribute to feelings of exhaustion for you? If you’re at the beginning of your changemaking journey, have a think about what leads to exhaustion in your personal life.
- Using examples from your own experience, what narratives fuel burnout in changemaking spaces (online and offline)?
Resist, Reclaim, Reimagine and Re-emerge
Identifying the narratives that shape our actions and beliefs is the first step in resisting them, reclaiming their power and reimagining them for the better. Resisting narratives that feel harmful to ourselves, our wellbeing and our work is what I term “flipping the script”. For example:
˚ Resist individualism by building spaces for collective care, or third spaces.
˚ Resist the narrative that rest is lazy by declining the pull for constant productivity.
˚ Resist “the movement needs me now” with “the movement needs me healthy, well and at full capacity”. ˚ Resist “perfection” by embracing “progress”.
Nobody can live a perfect life in an imperfect system. I have spent countless hours agonizing over small decisions I’ve made. Even this year, I declined an invitation to my brother’s baby shower as I’d have to get on a plane. I wanted to retain my goodness; I was doing this for his baby’s future. So, it was a surprise when he started swerving my calls, finally sharing over the phone that he felt deeply hurt, like he wasn’t a priority. Through tears, I booked the flight, feeling the shame that I’d not only let my movement down but scuppered my familial relationships in the process.
While I’ve been working on correcting my narratives for years, they still run deep in my psyche. Unlearning is a long process that requires perpetual grace. My new narrative is “progress, not perfection”. This doesn’t weaken my approach; it offers me permission to defy my own unattainable standards. The above is a tricky example to give, because ideals can certainly be met – I didn’t need to get that flight – but it might have come at the expense of my relationships, a great fuel source. By rewriting unrealistic ideals, we free ourselves to take imperfect but impactful actions without fear of being judged or discredited, even if that judgement is coming from ourselves.
We can also reclaim narratives that have been created to minimize our power. A great example of this is the reclamation of the word “dyke”. Once used as a slur to degrade and marginalize lesbians, it is being adopted by many lesbian campaigners as a badge of pride, resistance and identity. My own personal favourite reclamation is the term “snowflake”, describing a liberal left-wing tendency for sensitivity, suggesting that when we are touched, we melt. We are easily triggered. But en masse, the only thing snowflakes trigger are avalanches. Their collective form is one of power, uprooting and repaving. I embrace my sensitivity and find the power in being one small part of this enormous avalanche of change.
When we resist, reclaim and reimagine better narratives, we re-emerge with a different sense of what meaningful action looks like, detached from the drive to do and be it all. How we show up matters. Modelling narratives shifts how we re-enter changemaking spaces. Impact isn’t a perfectly crafted new narrative, but how we walk the talk in embodying its essence in all aspects of life. The opportunity is not just to bring these narratives as discussion points to your groups, friends and family relationships, but also to practise and integrate them. For example, what would it feel like to douse voices of jealousy or insecurity with the narrative “comparison is the thief of joy”? You might actively celebrate others with more ease or feel a pull to text something you appreciate about them to someone you’re struggling with. You might start to develop partnerships with other groups rather than fearing competition, and co-design an awesome campaign. Re-emergence leads to increased connection with others and self, but importantly it’s the groundwork for solidarity and cooperation within our work. Outside of changemaking, how would your life be impacted if you reframed your pain? As actress Keke Palmer quipped about an ex, “You did not break up with me, you released me.” I wasn’t rejected from the job, I was redirected to something else. I didn’t embarrass myself in front of my ex, I displayed all of my gorgeous humanity.
Resisting and reimagining narratives takes consistent work. For example, the relentless push for “more” does not stem solely from within. It is deeply entrenched in a culture that seeks to exploit both people and the planet. These are ideas we’ve seen in films, read in books and heard in anecdotes and obituaries. Impact is resisting the pull to overwork, modelling new ways of being and also challenging the systems that created the narrative in the first place. True change is born from dismantling the structures that dehumanize us all.
Flip the Script
Flipping the script involves identifying narratives that can be damaging to ourselves, our relationships and our campaign work and reimagining an alternative. For example, if you carry the narrative “I’m not doing enough”, you can begin to challenge this by acknowledging and appreciating the actions you have taken, however small they may seem. By doing so, you create a new story: “Every effort I make contributes to the larger movement.” The table on page 112 is filled with examples taken from youth groups I’ve worked with on this exercise. You can copy the table into your journal to complete your own.
We also need to explore: “What do we open up and close when we flip the script?” This is because life is full of nuance. In changing the story, we might also be shutting down other important functions of a narrative. For example, cancel culture or “calling someone out” involves public shaming and stunting meaningful dialogue. Instead, “calling someone in” involves privately bringing someone into a conversation when they may have intentionally or unintentionally caused harm. The latter is more likely to lead to change, as it removes the heightened shame tactics that typically create tension and retreat. However, in changing the story, we close the space to promote public dialogue. Some things need to be called out – for example, when a public figure shares something that incites violence. We can’t reach them privately anyway, and public sharing offers an important educational moment to others. There is nuance. Another example is “I’m not doing enough”. There might be some validity in this. You potentially could be doing more. So, our investigation is one of honest discernment. To aid this, consider if the narrative is coming from shame or encouragement. Shame is not a sustainable force, but encouragement is. Encouragement looks like: “I can use my gifts to offer X amount of time per week. I have something to contribute. Doing more will serve me and others.”
Exercise: Flip the Script
Objective: To identify and change narratives that are potentially damaging to us.
Consider the narratives and alternatives below and write down some of your own in your journal.
Current narrative vs the suggestion for new narrative
Perfection is possible. → The perfect changemaker doesn’t exist.
Vulnerability is a weakness. → Vulnerability is a strength.
I’m not doing enough. → I’m trying my best. Or I can do more in a way that serves me and others.
If you haven’t been arrested. → We all have a role to play in the activism ecosystem. There is no then you’re less of an activist.
This problem is bigger. My problems are irrelevant. → I am worthy of good mental health.
Rest is a luxury. → Rest is Rest is essential. Rest is central to engagement not additional to engagement.
The urgency of the climate crisis means we must live as a perfect changemaker. → There is no such thing as a perfect changemaker. Progress rather than perfection.
Eco-anxiety is a mental health problem you should try to treat and fix. → Eco-anxiety is a rational response to an emergency.
Tough emotions should be fixed. → Befriending tough emotions is a necessary step to agency and inhibits action.
Feeling bad needs to be fixed. → It’s okay not to feel okay.
Current narrative Suggestion for new narrative
If I step back, nothing will get done. → Stepping back when I need to will benefit my activism in the long run and allow others to step forward.
Direct action is the most important form of activism. → Change comes in many shapes and sizes.
I am an activist. → Activism is one part of my identity.
Call people out. → Call people in.
Other people’s lives on social media are better/funnier/happier. → Comparison is the thief of joy.
Exercise: Finding the Nuance
Objective: What space do we open up, and close, when we flip the script?
Discussion: In pairs, small groups or individually, run through your narrative changes and explore the above question. What opportunities present themselves when we flip the script? Similarly, explore what might be at stake.
