Pat Taub
“Don’t talk to me about Gaza. It’s too depressing.”
“I refuse to read anything that involves the Orange Tyrant.”
A dinner party invitation: “We’d love your company. Be forewarned: it will be a politics-free night.”
–Common responses to news stories of the suffering in Gaza; Trump’s mean-spirited laws targeting immigrants, Blacks and women, or his frightening war policies.
Today’s news and images are especially challenging for those middle-aged and older, raised at a time when the news was relatively benign compared to today’s horrors. Limiting our news intake to preserve our sanity is a healthy response, but when it morphs into a blackout of stories about Gaza, racial injustice, or war-inflicted causalities in Iran and Lebanon—than we’re in trouble as a country. We’re missing an opportunity to build community, to become our better angels.
To quote popular podcaster Brene Brown:
“When we look away from the pain of any people, we diminish their humanity and our own.”
Brene Brown on a recent speaking tour
Looking away can appear as a privileged response of those living comfortably, feeling little impact from world events, other than a small dent in their incomes from rising gas and food prices, unlike the working poor, thrown deeper into economic misery from what’s happening and what’s to come.
If you find yourself in this category, you might be thinking, “I care deeply about human suffering, but I will sink into a depression if I follow the news. What choice do I have?”
Concerned engaging with troubling news stories will provoke depression
Umair Hague’s Medium essay, ‘Not Giving Up,” insists we become fully human when we face what’s difficult rather than expending energy avoiding it: “take control of your life . . . don’t withstand but build.”
One way to “build” is to monitor your news intake but not to the point where you block tragedies like Gaza. Rather than focusing on stories of suffering, read about Gaza’s resilience by following the intrepid Gazan journalist, Bisan, reporting on Gaza’s new library, “Phoenix,” whose founder proclaimed, “We refuse to be a people who just live in tents and wait.”
Students at Gaza’s Phoenix Library, assembled with books rescued from the rubble
Community is the path for garnering strength and creating change. Join with like-minded souls and contribute what you can. If you live in a community, like mine in Portland, Maine, where ICE is staging a comeback, help by delivering groceries, escorting children to school, or donating money to needy migrant families.
Massive Portland, Maine protest against ICE, January, 2026
If you’re not able to join street protests or physically challenging actions, write letters to the editor, join a phone bank to rally support for progressive legislation and candidates who can turn the tide.
Stick your neck out: invite “look away” friends to a potluck where you empathize with feeling overwhelming, motivating them with the reminder that action overcomes despair. Make a list of the group’s concerns, then brainstorm action plans, like attending city council meetings to vote for affordable housing. (Don’t be discouraged if some peel off. For starters six is a good number.). If you meet bi-weekly or monthly, your results will be twofold: you’ll build community while igniting dormant hopeful genes.
I write from personal experience: two months into the Gaza genocide my depression hit rock bottom. Desperate to restore my spirits I reached out to local women engaged in peace work, inviting them to my home for a peace caucus. Over “peace pizza” we exchanged stories of mutual isolation and despair, comforted one another, and shared upcoming protest actions and conferences of interest.
Two and a half years later we still meet, expanding our gatherings to include birthday celebrations and rituals for recently deceased friends and family. These smart, funny women have become an indispensable force in my life.
Members of my peace group celebrating a birthday
Umair Hague concludes his essay with this inspiring message:
Take control of your life. Don’t give up.
Nurture your spark. Let its fire and heat and light guide you through this darkness. It is all that can.
Let it come back to life, and you will too. This is the truest test of times like these.
