Navigating Privilege, Belonging, and Resilience: A Journey Toward Collective Liberation
In these times of profound social upheaval, I find myself navigating the complexities of identity, privilege, and activism. As a queer, white, Ashkenazi Jew with the privileges of being able-bodied and upper-class, I grapple with how these facets shape my perspective and responsibilities in a world marked by systemic injustice and collective grief. My journey of self-regulation and healing has taught me that sustaining activism and community engagement requires balancing the coexistence of joy and grief while tending to our inner selves. Last year, I participated in a Holocaust education trip to Germany. I gained more insight on the lessons we can draw from history, what it means to belong, and the tools that allow us to show up authentically in spaces where both connection and disconnection occur. This piece is both a personal reckoning and a call to action, urging us to integrate self-care, remembrance, and a commitment to collective liberation in our shared pursuit of a more just world.
I was born and raised on Lenape land in what is commonly called New York. I grew up upper class, not quite in the 1%, but definitely in the 10%. I am physically able-bodied, and I recently started identifying as Autistic. I’ve been reckoning for many years with various aspects of my privilege as I slowly began to engage in activism and organizing, trying to do my part to support both my local community and those continuously having their lives and families obliterated abroad.
Before we can effectively organize and mobilize, we must first learn how to regulate ourselves.
The last five years have been an intense journey of personal healing and growth, marked by significant grief and a sense of loss. While my experiences are deeply personal, I recognize they are not comparable to the systemic and ongoing losses faced by many BIPOC and disabled individuals. A dear friend, an Indigenous Jewish queer activist and artist, recently shared that 83% of women with physical disabilities experience sexual assault—a staggering statistic that highlights the pervasive neglect and trauma endured by marginalized communities. These women are too often reduced to forgotten numbers, their pain overlooked by systems that continue to fail us all. This knowledge fuels my anger and sadness, underscoring the urgent need for collective action. The systems are failing all of us, and we need to organize and mobilize; however, I’ve learned that before we can effectively organize and mobilize, we must first learn how to regulate ourselves.
“Comparison is the thief of joy,” a quote often attributed to Theodore Roosevelt, is typically invoked to caution against measuring our worth against others, which can lead to feelings of inadequacy. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on another facet of this idea—how comparing my struggles as a white, able-bodied, class-privileged person to those of my BIPOC and disabled friends, or to communities enduring immense suffering in places like Gaza, Lebanon, and Sudan, can inhibit my ability to embrace moments of joy. Through profound Jewish teachings, I have come to understand that joy and grief are two sides of the same coin. Recognizing this duality helps me honor both my privileges and my emotions, allowing me to contribute meaningfully to the work of holding these complexities together, in community.
In November 2023, I participated in a 10-day educational trip to Germany with Jewish peers to deepen our understanding of the Holocaust. This trip came just weeks after Hamas’ October 7th attack on Israel, an event that further exposed the political divisions within the Jewish community in the United States. My primary community—a network of queer Jewish activists who supported me through significant life transitions, including coming out as non-binary, getting divorced, and leaving my corporate career—is deeply committed to collective liberation. Guided by civil rights activist Frannie Lou Hamer’s “nobody’s free until everybody’s free” and the Talmudic teaching that “the loss of one soul is the loss of an entire world,” these values serve as my compass in both my activism and personal growth.
I was able to participate in this organized trip to Germany due to the privileges of my class and Jewish identity. My financial stability, made possible by leaving college debt-free and a decade-long career in tech, allowed me to take a year off work. The trip, heavily subsidized by German government funds for Jewish-American relations, highlighted the intersections of privilege and historical accountability. Despite initial hesitations about potential political differences with participants and hosts, I chose to attend. I was driven by curiosity about how Germany’s efforts in remembrance and reparations could inform similar initiatives addressing America’s legacy of slavery and Indigenous genocide, and I saw this as a chance to apply my self-regulation practices in an environment where I would likely encounter a lot of discomfort and disagreement.
True commitment to showing up for change requires embracing spaces where we might not feel a perfect fit, and learning from those experiences.
Years ago, I experienced a profound shift in understanding belonging, realizing it must stem from within rather than from external validation. I spent almost five years working in corporate Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) during a time when “belonging” became a bit of a buzzword. The company I worked at funded and participated in research around belonging at work that identified four key components–feeling seen, connected, supported, and proud of your work/organization. During the trip, moments of support and feeling seen contrasted with a sense of disconnection from the group. On the final day, I journaled, “I don’t belong here,” but instead of despair, I found clarity—belonging isn’t about fitting in everywhere. True commitment to showing up for change requires embracing spaces where we might not feel a perfect fit, and learning from those experiences.
Self-regulation has been central to my healing journey. The body’s sympathetic nervous system’s fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses, designed for survival, are often misaligned with the less immediate but pervasive stresses of modern life. For white, able-bodied individuals like myself, the perceived dangers rarely pose real threats to survival, underscoring the need to intentionally shift into a state of “rest and digest.” This parasympathetic activation not only aids physical recovery but also helps process the complex emotions and experiences essential for sustained activism.
I am extremely proud of myself for how I navigated this intense trip to Germany. In addition to packing my suitcase full of the typical travel items, I brought a carefully curated “toolbox” of self-care and regulation practices to ensure I could navigate the emotional and physical challenges of the trip effectively. Here are the practices I incorporated:
Self-expression:
Journaling to document my experiences and daily gratitude, allowing space for reflection and clarity.
Crying and other forms of emotional release to process and honor the depth of my feelings.
Physical Tending:
Practicing yoga and stretching to maintain physical balance and reduce stress.
Taking advantage of the hotel’s sauna and steam room, which became a daily ritual for relaxation and rejuvenation.
Emotional and Spiritual Tending:
Engaging in meditation to center myself and find calm amidst the intensity.
Using daily readers and drawing cards from a Rumi deck to ground myself in wisdom and inspiration.
Relational Tending:
Asking for hugs and seeking physical comfort from others when needed.
Reaching out virtually to trusted friends and loved ones for support and connection.
I recognized there would be moments when dysregulation might overwhelm me, and I made intentional choices to give myself grace and space to reset. In challenging times, I allowed myself to quietly cry, journal, or withdraw from interactions when necessary. On Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest, I chose to spend time alone rather than attending group services, an act that gave me the strength to re-engage for the trip’s final days. When I was regulated, I could share my thoughts, feelings, and experiences authentically–most of the time they were received with curiosity and openness. At the end of the trip, a handful of fellow participants expressed gratitude for my bringing a different perspective. I felt clear that I was meant to be here…and I was exhausted.
Thinking ahead, I had planned to spend time with friends in Lisbon and London following the Germany trip. I was able to “rest and digest” everything that had occurred–a process of integration. For me, this involved plenty of rest—sleeping deeply, savoring delicious meals, and adventuring in vibrant new settings.
The work of creating a freer and more equitable world begins with the ability to hold complexity—in ourselves, our communities, and the systems we strive to change.
As I reflect on my journey of self-regulation, healing, and activism, I see how the interplay of grief and joy, privilege and responsibility, and connection and disconnection shapes my ability to show up authentically in the world. By tending to my inner self through practices of rest, integration, and emotional care, I am better equipped to engage with the profound challenges of working toward collective liberation. My recent experiences have deepened my understanding that true belonging comes not only from external validation but from cultivating a sense of purpose and alignment within. In embracing the lessons of history and the tools of resilience, I am reminded that the work of creating a freer and more equitable world begins with the ability to hold complexity—in ourselves, our communities, and the systems we strive to change.
