By Desmond de Jesus, TIRN Communications Intern
Something has shifted in the air—a collective weight that millions of us are carrying at the same time. We feel it at the gas pump and the grocery checkout, in a political climate that grows more volatile by the week, and in the quiet, grinding pressure of trying to build a future in a world that feels increasingly unaffordable, fractured, and environmentally imperiled. That pressure is not imaginary or random—it is the product of systems that prioritize profit over people. It is precisely this reality that has driven people across the country to join the No Kings protests on March 28, a national mobilization that rejects authoritarianism and demands people-powered democracy (No Kings, n.d.-a). That call to action is not just timely, it is necessary.
For many working-class people, this moment feels like survival. Every increase in rent, gas, or food costs forces harder decisions. Stability feels out of reach, and the expectation to keep pushing forward without pause can be exhausting. A quiet burnout is settling in across communities, where people are not just financially strained but emotionally depleted. And the truth is, it is okay to feel that weight. It is okay to feel overwhelmed, to feel frustrated, even to break down under the pressure of trying to keep up in a system that was not built to support everyone equally.
What stands out to me is that this is not just about one protest or one political figure. It is about the deeper reality many of us are living through. Young adults today are being asked to adapt to conditions that feel increasingly unsustainable. The cost of living continues to rise, and when oil and gas prices spike, the effects ripple through nearly every part of daily life, from transportation to food costs to household stability. At the same time, environmental protections are being weakened in favor of industry interests. That contradiction is hard to ignore: ordinary people are told to absorb the costs while powerful institutions continue to profit. Turtle Island Restoration Network’s recent blog post reflects this concern by questioning how political decisions tied to fossil fuel expansion and environmental rollback are shaping the future of the planet (Turtle Island Restoration Network, 2026).
I have also come to understand these issues through my own work with nonprofit and community-centered organizations. I have worked with groups such as the Inland Empire Reading Group for Political Education and Anakbayan USA, organizations that have supported disenfranchised neighboring communities through fundraising, political education, and awareness-raising efforts regarding the threats faced by individuals and families targeted by ICE.
Those experiences made one thing especially clear to me: political disengagement is a luxury that many vulnerable communities do not have. For them, policy is not abstract—it has immediate consequences for safety, stability, and dignity.That is why being politically engaged right now matters so much. The current administration does not represent the needs, values, or material realities of the majority of Americans, and staying silent only allows that disconnect to deepen. The No Kings movement frames this moment as a rejection of repression, cruelty, and corruption, while emphasizing nonviolent collective action to defend democracy and community (No Kings, n.d.-a, n.d.-b). That matters because it reminds us that public participation remains one of our strongest tools.
Still, this moment cannot be sustained by resistance alone; it also requires restoration.
Discernment in this time of urgency is key, stepping back to care for ourselves and reconnect with others is not a weakness—it is necessary. Rest, reflection, and emotional honesty are part of how we sustain long-term change. When people are constantly overwhelmed, disconnected, and exhausted, it becomes harder to show up for causes, for communities, and even for ourselves.
That is why rebuilding connection matters just as much as showing up to protest. Reconnecting with our communities, checking in on one another, and grounding ourselves in shared values of care, dignity, and responsibility allows us to realign with what actually sustains us—not just economically, but ethically and emotionally. Nourishment, in this sense, is not just about food or income—it is about stability, support, and a sense of belonging.
If we want to change society for the better, we have to use the tools available to us now: our voices, our skills, our time, our creativity, and our relationships with one another. For some, that means marching. For others, it means organizing, fundraising, educating, creating media, or supporting the work already being done on the ground. No one person can do everything, but everyone can do something.
To me, that is the deeper meaning of this political moment. We are being pushed to decide whether to continue adapting to a world shaped by fear, inequality, and environmental harm, or to help build something more humane. Rekindling our relationships with ourselves, our communities, and the environment is part of that work. A safer and more inhabitable future will not be handed to us by those in power—it has to be built by people who are willing to show up for one another and refuse to accept injustice as normal.
References:
- No Kings. (n.d.-a). No Kings. https://www.nokings.org/
- No Kings. (n.d.-b). About No Kings. https://www.nokings.org/about-nk
- Turtle Island Restoration Network. (2026). What in the world is Trump doing with our planet?
- https://seaturtles.org/what-in-the-world-is-trump-doing-with-our-planet/
