One challenge of being a young person in a world ravaged by problems like climate change and political turmoil and a generally uncertain future is that I’m always struggling to fight the helplessness that these problems create, always looking to do something rather than simply passing through time. The word “action” comes attached with terms like “political” and “radical” and “transformative” and “world-changing.” That can lead to feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, as I’ve discussed previously.
So, as with other problems, I turn to stories for ideas and inspiration. Because standing up for something, taking action, fighting back, or making changes isn’t always about solving big problems. Sometimes, it’s also about standing up for own selves, fighting our own small rebellions. Consider the following…
“Matrimonial Quest at Luna Prime and Other Existential Dread” by Deka Omar
Zahra is in her early 40s and finding it quite difficult to find a partner who’s not only close in age but who also shares her fundamental values. She’s not interested in any cosmetic services recommended by the attendant at a Singles Mixer event, or any of the gazillion products being advertised all around Luna Prime. A historian, she knows all about the Luddites as well as the downsides of unchecked technological advancement and consumerism, which makes her meetings with prospective partners even more difficult, because they think people like Zahra have got it all wrong and are stubbornly inconveniencing everyone. Still, she’s willing to try to smile and stick to uncontroversial topics on her very first meeting. But then the e-chaperone of the man she’s meeting scans her physiological status without her consent; abruptly exiting the mixer, she stumbles across a terrified young woman and finds herself getting involved in a situation she knows she should ignore, but it feels too important. There comes a time, after all, when we need to think about the difference between talking about our values and actually acting on them.
“Those We See at the Twilight Bridge” by Wendy Nikel
Death’s role is to make people’s passing easy. When It comes to them, It wears the face of a loved one and dances with them, taking them twirling over the bridge, at the end of which their dead loved ones wait, their arms open. Every peaceful passing is a job well done.
But Death doesn’t always come on its own. Some people call It to them. Death has no choice but to go and offer what comfort It can. Except this time, before a woman crosses the bridge, she faces It and tells It to take charge where It hasn’t before. Soothing words and the face of her mother wasn’t enough for her. She wants revenge. And so for the first time, Death is seriously reconsidering Its role.
“The Honey of the World and the Queen of Crows” by Dimitra Nikolaidou
When Leandros dies, he finds himself in what is the crossroads between life and death. He meets Magdalene, a nun smoking cigarettes, who offers him one minute in which he can go back, roll away from the mortar shells that killed him and his mate, and drag Yiorgos off to become deserters. The thought is tempting but also horrifying: How could he betray his army, run away selfishly? Magdalene tells him the story of how she became a nun, giving up her love for a prince. She was given a choice not unlike the one the soldier has been given now. Perhaps her decision will help him make his own choice.
“Harvest of Bones” by Eugenia Triantafyllou
Raeh’s village is about to be attacked. She and the other women listen to this news from a young soldier and wonder what to do. On the table sits a jar filled with the bones of their ancestors—giant, strong women who fought for them ages ago and will do so again when needed. With the men taken by war and the remaining villagers struggling to survive, they are not equipped to make a stand against the advancing army. They have the bones of their valiant ancestors, but do they have the strength to put up a fight?
“Diamond Cuts” by Shaoni C. White
Two actors perform the same painful play, over and over, trapped in the theatre and their roles by the resident sorcerer Maria, who has bound them to the building. The play has been performed for centuries, repeating a ritual that can’t be broken—for if anything deviates from the script even a little bit, not only the actors but even the audience may get hurt, and parts of the building, if not the places outside it, will collapse.
When the male lead dies, his stage-partner finds herself grieving and helpless when her new co-star, brought into the whole mess on short notice, suggests resistance. She and her previous partner had attempted running away before, but the magic is too strong, while the exhausted actors can barely keep up. How long will they be able to keep performing night after night when in their hearts the seeds of resistance have taken root, growing ever more insistent?
