Fight Like a Hobbit
Small acts can push back the darkness
"Some believe that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love." — The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
Despair has permeated every conversation I’ve had this week like thick, black smoke. Fellow activists feel pummeled by the firehose of unjust actions taken by the current administration. My dear friend, a patriot wounded during one of his tours in Iraq and now 100% disabled, is exploring other countries for his daughter to live in so she can have a future. My neighbors shake their heads and slump their shoulders when I ask them how they’re doing.
We are living in dark times. Though we braced ourselves for the inevitable shit storm, the past two weeks have been a naked assault on our way of life. Trump pardoned 250 violent insurrectionists, pulled out of the World Health Organization and Paris Climate Agreement, declared war on immigrants, sought to end birthright citizenship, put federal employees fighting discrimination on paid leave, and swiftly rolled back the rights of transgendered people. Meanwhile, he continues to purge the Department of Justice to ensure loyalty to him rather than the rule of law, and Elon Musk is stealing the sensitive personal information of millions of ordinary citizens for God knows what purpose.
Even more devasting is the betrayal we feel when we do the math. 77 million Americans — our friends, family, and neighbors — voted for this mess, while nearly 90 million people couldn’t be bothered to get their asses off the sofa and vote.
Our despair is rooted in deep disappointment, anxiety, loss, and grief, and for those of us who resisted, protested, called our lawmakers, and even got arrested during the last Trump administration the grief is searing and ever-present. Here we are again, but worse.
Despair is understandable, even warranted. But we must not succumb to the temptation to collapse. Right now, despair is our worst enemy.
I was never a huge Lord of the Rings fan, so I surprised myself by invoking Tolkien’s world to buoy the spirits of friends and activists this week. Though I didn’t grab a walking stick or whistle for Shadowfax, my inner Gandalf gently advised them that even when we feel small and powerless, we can, as ordinary people, push back in a million small ways that make a difference. We can act just like Hobbits.
Yes, Hobbits. As in Frodo, Samwise, Merry, and Pippin.
No, we’re not warriors, wizards, or kings craving great power and glory. We lead unassuming lives devoted to our family and friends. We relish laughing with others over beer, dancing to great music, puffing on an occasional pipe, and cheering for our favorite football team. (Go Birds!) We may not have hairy feet or pointy ears, but we do have a moral compass pointing us to our North Star: Kindness, community, and friendship. And, like Hobbits, when faced with overwhelming darkness and despair, we possess the strength and endurance to fight back in countless unglamorous ways:
We can call our school districts and ask them their policy on letting ICE through the doors. We can do the same with our churches and communities.
We can visit our senators’ offices and tell them not to confirm Project 2025 author, Russell Vought, to be Director of the Office of Management and Budget.
We can endure the discomfort of calling out family and friends on their anti-immigrant views, print and distribute Know Your Rights cards, and pressure our local police departments to not partner with ICE.
We can support DEI initiatives in our own schools, workplaces, and communities even when we’re mocked for it.
We can call our elected officials at least once a week to tell them we have their backs (if they’re standing up for what’s right) or express our displeasure with their actions.
We can invite people into our homes and create a community where we listen deeply to their concerns, allow each other the space to grieve, and find joy in comradery.
We can carry each other when we feel exhaustion and despair.
We can attend schoolboard and township meetings.
We can feed the hungry and run errands for immigrants too afraid to leave their homes.
We can keep showing up, keep pushing back against despair, keep doing the shit we need to do even when we’re scared and drained.
We don’t need to be warriors leading great armies into battle with flaming swords. We don’t have to make grand, sweeping gestures. We can simply shine our lights into the darkness and do our part to fight for a country where kindness and decency prevail. No matter how small we feel.
Samwise Gamgee was Frodo’s loyal friend. When Frodo, burdened and exhausted by the weight of the Ring, is losing hope at the end of The Two Towers, Samwise reminds him why they must keep going.
“It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something. That there is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
The good in the world is worth fighting for, and we all can do our part. Plus, like Hobbits, we get to have second breakfast. Wait. You didn’t know about second breakfast?