Bearing Witness, Choosing Care
- Gratitude Vietnam - Retreat Venue
- 4 days ago
- 7 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Democracy, Responsibility, and What's at Stake
Dear friends,
I've been nursing the seeds of this blog on and off for weeks - drafting, thinking, deleting, redrafting, raging, and starting again. I've wanted to say or do something, but haven't known what, or how. The anxiety around sharing, making mistakes, or facing backlash has been paralysing, but this weekend has felt like a turning point. Silence now feels heavier than the fear, and even if just one person takes a deeper look at the news or feels less alone in their grief and anger after reading this, then it'll have been worth it.
~7-minute read
What’s happening in Minnesota right now, and across the United States, matters. Not just locally. Not just nationally. It matters globally because it's about democracy.
Time and again, history has shown us what happens when we stop paying attention. People have fought and died for democratic freedoms in the First and Second World Wars, in civil rights movements, and right now in places like Ukraine, where people are literally defending democracy against authoritarian invasion.
Democracy isn't guaranteed. It's something we choose to protect - or fail to.
In Minneapolis, federal immigration operations have escalated into violence. These aren't abstract harms. They're immediate and ongoing.
Already in 2026 (as of 25th January):
Three members of the indigenous Oglala Lakota Nation are being illegally detained.
Two children under the age of 5 have been incarcerated.
Six people have died in ICE detention centres.
Two people have been shot in the street:
Renée Nicole Good. A wife and mother. Killed during an ICE operation
Alex Pretti. An ICU nurse. Killed during protests while trying to help others.
Yet what we are witnessing as truth is being framed as necessary.
As “law and order.”
As “security.”
As a lie.
In response, Minnesotans have protested peacefully in freezing temperatures. They've shown dignity and restraint in the face of militarised masked agents, pepper spray, and brutal force. They've fed, sheltered, and protected their neighbours.
It feels important to slow down and look more honestly at what’s happening. We can't talk about this without naming white privilege and systemic racism, not as theory, but as lived reality. For Black, Indigenous, and racialised communities, state violence, over‑policing, surveillance, detention, and the removal of rights are not new. These aren't sudden developments, but part of a long continuum. What many white people are experiencing now as shocking or unprecedented is something others have been living with, and warning about, for generations.
This story doesn't begin in Minnesota.
It begins with colonialism.
The United States was built through displacement, enslavement and the movement of white Europeans across the Atlantic. People who arrived on boats hundreds of years ago claimed land that was already inhabited, and reshaped laws and systems to secure power for themselves.
From the UK, it’s important to recognise our place in that history. Empire didn't just happen somewhere else; it originated here, and its legacies continue to shape how borders, belonging and power are discussed today.
In the UK, we're also seeing the rise of overt nationalism again. Flags are appearing more prominently in towns. Political movements are being built around fears of migration and the growing normalisation of rhetoric that frames some people as more deserving of rights than others.
Parties like Reform UK may present themselves as “common‑sense” or “patriotic,” but they draw on the all too familiar narratives that security requires exclusion, that complexity can be solved through force, and that human rights are conditional.
None of this makes the UK uniquely bad, but it does leave us with responsibility.
Authoritarian systems don’t target just one group, but move through communities that are already marginalised to test how much harm they can inflict before the wider public reacts. Racialised communities. Immigrants. People with disabilities. LGBTQIA+ communities. Women. Children.
This is clearly visible in anti‑trans rhetoric and legislation, disability rights, reproductive rights, and the silencing and institutional cover-up of child abuse. People are treated as political problems to be solved, their lives debated, restricted and legislated over in ways that deny dignity, safety and self‑determination. This isn't incidental.
Attacks on human rights are historically an early warning sign, because authoritarian politics depends on rigid ideas of who is acceptable, who belongs and whose humanity is conditional. It's happening in the United States, in the UK and increasingly in other countries.
Before European colonisation, many Indigenous cultures throughout the Americas recognised people who lived beyond a male/female binary and held them in high regard. For example, some Indigenous nations used words that today translate as “two‑spirit” to describe individuals who embodied both masculine and feminine qualities and often took on special roles as mediators and artisans. These third- and even fourth-gender roles existed across North America and were part of the social and spiritual fabric of their communities.
Colonisation attempted to erase these identities, imposing rigid gender categories and punishing those who didn’t conform. The suppression of these traditions is part of the same historical arc that has denied autonomy to Indigenous nations and marginalised LGBTQIA+ people. Remembering this history is vital because it reminds us that diversity of gender and sexuality isn't a modern phenomenon. It has always existed and was valued before colonial systems enforced conformity.
The undeniable truth is that as a white person, especially when I'm living in the UK, I benefit from systems that make my presence unremarkable and my belonging unquestioned. I am less likely to be stopped, detained, harmed or disbelieved by the state. Naming that isn't about guilt. It's about responsibility, and choosing not to look away when others are harmed by systems that protect me.
History gives us warnings (if we’re willing to listen).
In 1943, Anne Frank wrote:
“Terrible things are happening outside. People are being taken away in droves. Families are torn apart; men, women and children are separated. Children come home from school to find that their parents have disappeared.”
Comparisons to Nazi Germany should never be made lightly. The Holocaust was a unique and devastating atrocity, but the patterns (people taken from their homes, detained without due process, targeted because of who they are, while others are told this is for safety), those are warning signs history has taught us to recognise.
It also matters to say that Jewish people are a historically persecuted and still-marginalised community, and antisemitism is real, rising, and deadly. Jewish fear isn't abstract, and Jewish safety isn't negotiable. Critiquing the actions of a state is not the same as judging a people, and nothing about Palestinian suffering justifies antisemitism, just as nothing about Jewish trauma justifies the dehumanisation of civilians. If we're serious about opposing fascism, then we have to be serious about protecting Jewish lives, Palestinian lives, and all lives threatened by violence, hatred, and erasure.
Authoritarianism doesn't arrive all at once. It arrives selectively and tests what we will tolerate. It relies on silence, and on the belief that “this won’t affect me.” It always does.
Ukraine reminds us what happens when authoritarianism is allowed to expand unchecked. Minnesota reminds us that democracy can erode from within. Gaza shows us the long-term impact of imperialism and collective punishment on civilian life.
If we care about democracy, we have to care about who it protects, and who it has never protected equally.
Not everyone can speak out safely. For many people in marginalised groups, visibility carries real risk to jobs, to families, to physical safety. Silence for many is not apathy, it's survival. But staying informed is not nothing. Paying attention is not passive. Choosing where you get your news from matters. Seeking out independent journalism matters. Refusing to absorb only what is comfortable matters. Watching, listening, learning, staying awake to what is happening, even when you cannot be visible, is a form of participation.
Democracy isn’t only defended in the streets. It's defended in the stories we believe, the patterns we recognise and the moments when we refuse to look away.
If you have the capacity to speak, use it. If you don’t, staying informed, staying connected, and protecting yourself and others is just as important.
What matters is that we remain awake to what’s happening, to our neighbours, to our communities and to the people whose rights are always the first to be tested.
Awareness isn't neutrality. It's responsibility and care.
Seeking reliable news and independent voices
One practical way to stay engaged is to support news outlets that are accountable to their readers rather than to shareholders or political donors. Building a varied media diet can help to avoid misinformation and overly crafted narratives, allowing you to form your own perspective.
Below are a few sources worth considering:
Democracy Now! An independent, nonprofit news program. It describes itself as a “global, viewer‑supported news hour” produced by a nonprofit organisation and funded entirely by listeners, viewers and foundations.
The Guardian A UK newspaper owned by the Scott Trust. The Trust exists to secure the financial and editorial independence of The Guardian “in perpetuity” and to safeguard its journalistic freedom and liberal values free from commercial or political interference.
Under the Desk News A social‑media‑driven news commentary created by journalist V Spehar. Spehar summarises complex political news in short, accessible videos and invites viewers to learn more.
Substack (platform) An online publishing platform launched in 2017 that enables independent journalists and writers to send subscription-based newsletters, podcasts, and videos directly to their subscribers.
Al Jazeera An international news network based in Qatar that provides global coverage of current events. While funded in part by the Qatari government, it operates with editorial independence and is widely respected for its comprehensive international reporting.
These are just a few places to start. There are also local nonprofit outlets like the Minnesota Reformer, international collectives like Bellingcat, and podcasts from independent journalists.
Taking care of yourself and each other
If you're feeling overwhelmed, frightened, numb or exhausted, you're not alone. These feelings are normal when systems seem to be unravelling. Talk with people you trust. Remember that joy and rest are part of resistance, too. If you are in a position to help others, do so, whether through mutual aid, amplifying marginalised voices, donating to legal funds, or simply offering a listening ear.
For those who are noticing how all of this lands emotionally and who want a thoughtful, embodied approach to sitting with what’s coming up, Erin Hernandez recently wrote a beautiful piece on spiritual embodiment and social justice.
The Embodied Heart explores how awareness of systems of oppression shows up in the body and how staying present with that awareness can be part of individual and collective healing.
You can read it here: The Embodied Heart – Erin Hernandez
No one can hold the weight of all this alone, but together we can share it.
What does rest and joy look like in your community?
How can caring for each other become a form of resistance?
With gratitude and love,
Naomi
p.s. I promise I will share more (long overdue!) blogs of my Costa Rica adventure and reflections in the weeks to come!
*Updated 28th January 2026 to include additional resources recommended by readers.
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