We pretend.
A friend of mine is unusually clever. Momo has been working for environmental causes for over a decade and a half. She is also very grounded. Last summer, we shared a pizza on a long summer's night, sitting opposite a small lake in the middle of Berlin. Halfway through, she said: 'I think it’s too late. We are too late.' She wasn’t being cynical. She was presenting her truth to me. She was being honest.
She is still working on her topics. She is wickedly productive. Very real about everything. I really respect her for it. And I get her perspective. She is hustling, while most of us aren’t. She is immersed in climate reality, while most of us aren’t.
I wouldn't describe Momo as pessimistic. But I have witnessed a great deal of pessimism in action around me for years now. I think we cling to it because it feels safe. Being pessimistic doesn't require us to challenge the status quo. It also doesn't require us to change. I believe that for those who want to make changes and take on challenges, the space feels too small. It feels too unsafe.
But there's another kind.
I am a very enthusiastic person. Along the way, I’ve tried to hide this in an attempt to fit into a more professional version of myself. People have often called me Pippi Longstocking, which I have always felt was an accusation. For some reason, growing up has always seemed different to me. I still don't feel it. I am still waiting for that finish line I was supposed to cross at 18. So, at job interviews, I have pretended to have reached it. I tried wearing clothes that I didn't really like. I tried losing colors. I didn't share my excitement. I got annoyed with books encouraging me to be more authentic — how could I do that while hiding half of myself?
Recently, I realised that, despite quite liking my rebel mind, I have been desperately trying to fit in. I have been hiding my overly enthusiastic side in an attempt to appear more professional. I have received a lot of advice about this from friends and family. 'Keep your cool.' Don't do this. Don't say this. After taking a strengths test, I discovered that enthusiasm is actually one of my core strengths. Directly followed by a positive attitude. Embracing a strengths-based approach to work, I also learned that if you don't use your strengths, they become your weaknesses. Whoof! This sucked. Had my strength turned into a weakness because of my need to fit in? Was I actually standing in the way of what I was trying to achieve?
I believe the same mechanism can be applied to hope. It is coded as naïve, unprofessional and childish. So we hide it. But can hidden hope multiply?
This is bigger than me.
At the height of the Fridays for Future movement, hope was visible everywhere. We were getting places. We were knocking on the right doors and getting noticed. We were scaling up hope, and we were doing it together.
Then Covid entered the stage, our community-built movement fell apart, then trickled on digitally. Many of us felt alone. Some scared. Others burnt out.
Now we are struggling economically, aware of our fuckedupness ecologically, unconnected socially and some of us are doing this while trying to raise small human beings that ask questions we have no answers to. We aren’t feeling optimistic; we are feeling overwhelmed.
This is structural. And our response? It’s human. We are distracting ourselves. We are trying not to feel too much.
Saying things are fucked is important. Because: yes they are. And yes we are late. This is a reality we should face. But this is what-is-ism. This is not what could be.
Momo's pessimism is real. But I'm not sure most pessimism is. I think most of it is performed. Because the rooms for change have become too small. And it's time to widen them.
Stay curious. Stay courageous.
PS: Have you been feeling naive, too? Tell me about it. (Enthusiastically, if possible.)
Next week: Evidence.
Written by a human. Unpolished. On purpose.
