Transcript

I’m Maggie Smith and this is The Slowdown.

I have a banner that hangs in one of my front windows, so it’s one of the first things you see when you visit my house. The banner reads, “Joy is an act of resistance.” It’s a line from a poem by Toi Derricotte, and a line I find myself quoting—and thinking about—weekly, if not daily.

What I DIDN’T expect was that this banner would become a conversation starter. I’m sure plenty of people have noticed it and wondered about it, but some have actually asked. Because my house is a hundred years old, there’s a steady stream of contractors coming through: plumbers, electricians, handymen and handywomen. A few years ago an electrician eyed the banner and said, “Joy is an act of resistance. What does that mean?”

I was thrilled that he asked. We stood in my front yard and talked about the importance of holding tightly to joy, even in difficult times. Maybe ESPECIALLY in difficult times. When forces are conspiring to make you feel small and helpless, to make you feel like your one life doesn’t matter, the thing you CAN control is how you move through the world. I want to move through the world with a sense of gratitude for my life, and I want to feel as alive as possible.

When the world is on fire, it can feel frivolous to go dancing, to go to concerts, to host parties, to take vacations. How can we be experiencing joy when so many others are suffering? How can we be spending our time and energy on PLEASURE when there is so much pain in the world?

I don’t think it’s either/or. We can call our representatives. We can protest. We can volunteer or donate to causes we believe in. AND we can enjoy our lives, and refuse to become cynical, or despairing, or just plain numb. Cynical, despairing, numbed-out people are easier to control than people who are in love with their lives, who see possibility in the world, and who are wide awake for it all.

Today’s poem so beautifully addresses the importance of holding onto joy—and onto one another—when the world feels dismal.

And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So
by Wendy Xu

Today there has been so much talk of things exploding 
into other things, so much that we all become curious, that we
all run outside into the hot streets
and hug. Romance is a grotto of eager stones
anticipating light, or a girl whose teeth
you can always see. With more sparkle and pop
is the only way to live. Your confetti tongue explodes
into acid jazz. Small typewriters
that other people keep in their eyes
click away at all our farewell parties. It is hard
to pack for the rest of your life. Someone is always
eating cold cucumber noodles. Someone will drop by later
to help dismantle some furniture. A lot can go wrong
if you sleep or think, but the trees go on waving 
their broken little hands.

“And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So” from YOU ARE NOT DEAD © 2013 Wendy Xu. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of the Cleveland State University Poetry Center.