As 2024 comes to a close, a few end-of-year trends are flooding our social media timelines. People are sharing their Spotify Wrapped.
Others are sharing the Good Reads Reading Challenge. (My wife put me to shame by reading 106 books. Her goal was 75. I read 35 out of my goal of 40).
Social media is full of post after post about who did what and how much better off they are because of it. On the other hand, I see just as many folks sharing that 2025 will be “my year.”
They’ll lose the weight, save for that trip, or return to school. They’re cutting out red meat entirely, giving up sweets, or will immediately start walking a mile daily. They will read three new books a month, never mind that they historically haven’t been avid readers.
Whether the posts are backward-looking or future-focused, they communicate the same thing: Next year, I won’t be the person I am now. We see these posts every year and even post them ourselves. But we know how the cycle works.
We spend January over-committing to places, rhythms, clubs, meal prep patterns, and who knows what else. By mid-February, we burn ourselves out, convinced that if we can’t do all the big things, we can’t (or shouldn’t) do anything at all.
Given the challenges that 2025 will bring to marginalized communities once the Trump administration takes office, the January overcommitment will have much more dire impacts on advocacy groups that rely on volunteer support to function.
If the past is a prelude, progressive white women will swarm to places to help or try to reinvent the wheel by creating their own groups. They’ll go to all the marches, protests and city meetings, only to run themselves into the ground, quitting before Trump writes his first executive order. Their efforts will become one more failed resolution that they feel guilty about, but don’t do anything about to get back on the horse.
A New Year’s approach to social justice isn’t sustainable.
In her keynote address at the 2023 Nevertheless, She Preached conference, activist and life coach Erna Kim Hackett challenged the audience (particularly the liberal straight white women) to change the rhythm of their advocacy involvement. She commented on how after high-profile racist crimes such as the murder of George Floyd, liberal white women were enraged and demanded change. This is a good thing, but they keep that energy at a level that is too high to be long-lasting.
She told us that if women of color got that angry every time a person racialized as Black was murdered by the police, the anxiety would have killed them all. Instead, Hackett invited white women to learn from women of color how to be long-burning embers.
This fire is sustained with little to no flame but can flare up when needed. Its foundation is strong enough to keep burning once the shock of the moment has passed because it was built to last a long, long time— all the way through the night.
Rain doesn’t extinguish it. Wind doesn’t blow it out. It simply sustains.
These are the fires we will need for the next four years. Frankly, they are the fires we’ve needed all along.
To be clear, Hackett wasn’t giving progressive white women a pass. Instead, she invited them into a more sustainable long-term rhythm of social justice work.
It reminds me of what Banner says to the Avengers when they ask him his secret to controlling his angry alter ego, the Hulk. He responds, “You want to know my secret? I’m always angry.”
We must learn to remain aware of the world’s injustices without becoming consumed by them at every opportunity. As you make your resolutions this New Year’s Eve, I encourage you to meditate on Hackett’s wisdom.
What does sustained involvement look like for you? What would you need to give up to make room for that involvement? Who in your community is already doing the work you’re interested in and how can you partner with them?
The beauty of the Christian faith is that Christ always invites us to new patterns of life. He doesn’t follow our calendars.
In this and all seasons of life, may we be attuned to the newness of life Christ calls us to– especially when it comes to the practical work of creating on earth what already exists in heaven.
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A bivocational pastor, writer and spiritual director based in Williamsburg, Virginia, she currently works as a Spiritual Director at Reclamation Theology. Cawthon-Freels is the author of Reclamation: A Queer Pastor’s Guide to Finding Spiritual Growth in the Passages Used to Harm Us (Nurturing Faith Books), and a contributing correspondent at Good Faith Media.
