Joy doesn't betray but sustains activism. And when you face a

Hear, then, the words of Rebecca Solnit, a voice like a beacon in dark times: “Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated and isolated, joy is a fine initial act of insurrection.” This saying is no idle utterance, but a seed planted in the soil of history, watered by the struggles of countless generations. Joy, she teaches, is no fragile thing. It is not a distraction, nor a betrayal of the cause, but a source of strength, a wellspring that nourishes those who labor for justice. For what is a weary heart without renewal? What is resistance without the fire of delight? It is in joy that the spirit regains breath, and in joy that courage sharpens its edge.

From ancient days until now, rulers have sought to govern through fear—to fracture communities, to silence voices, to make each soul feel small and alone. Tyranny thrives where people bow their heads in despair. Yet joy defies this design. Joy is communal. It gathers people together in laughter, in song, in dance, in celebration of life. It reminds us that though oppression weighs heavy, the human spirit is not crushed. Thus, joy becomes a weapon sharper than any blade, for it disarms the cold machinery of domination by declaring, “You will not steal my humanity.”

Consider the civil rights marches of the 1960s. Though they faced fire hoses and snarling dogs, though jails filled with their bodies, the marchers sang. They sang not because their chains were light, but because their joy was unbreakable. Songs of hope and courage rose into the air like banners brighter than any flag of the oppressor. In those harmonies lay the truth Solnit speaks: joy sustains activism, for without joy, despair creeps in, and the flame of justice falters. Music was not mere accompaniment; it was the beating heart of the movement.

History, too, records the fall of apartheid in South Africa. There, in the darkest of times, black South Africans gathered in secret to sing, to dance, to laugh. These were not frivolous acts; they were acts of insurrection. In choosing joy when the world demanded their silence, they declared that their spirits were sovereign. Desmond Tutu once said, “We are prisoners of hope.” Hope and joy walked hand in hand, and from their companionship, liberation was born.

Do not mistake this teaching: joy is not the absence of sorrow, nor the denial of hardship. Joy does not blind the eyes to injustice. Rather, it gives the warrior heart the strength to rise again when battle seems endless. Joy is not betrayal—it is fuel. The one who resists with only anger may burn quickly, consumed by the very fire that animates them. But the one who carries both righteous anger and radiant joy walks further, stands longer, endures beyond the storm.

Therefore, take this lesson to heart: cultivate joy as you would a sacred garden. Celebrate with others, even in small ways. Share food, laughter, music. Honor beauty, even in times of struggle. When those who rule would see you isolated, weave bonds of community; when they would make you fearful, laugh loudly; when they would make you ashamed, dance boldly. For these simple acts, small though they seem, are the first sparks of freedom.

To future generations I say: when the world is heavy, do not surrender your joy. Hold it as you would a shield, not against pain, but against despair. Let joy lift your feet, so that you may walk the long road of justice without collapsing upon it. And let your joy inspire others to rise, so that together, your multitude of lights becomes a dawn that tyrants cannot withstand.

Thus, the wisdom of Solnit is made clear: joy is insurrection. Let each of us, in our daily living, choose joy as a defiance of fear. Do not wait for victory to rejoice; rejoice to make victory possible.