“Rest Is Resistance”: Why 3 First Nations Women Have Chosen To Stay Home To Heal On Jan 26

A few years ago, I was speaking to a fellow First Nations friend who had made the choice to stay in for January 26. She was exhausted and didn’t have either the mental or physical energy to protest, so she stayed home and had a soft, low-key day. In the same year, another friend of mine decided to skip going to the Invasion Day protests, instead deciding that she would spend the day weaving with her sister in an act of self-care.

I must admit that initially, I didn't quite understand it. I immediately thought to myself, "Do you not care?". We're here begging and fighting for change, yet she's spending her day on the couch? I couldn't help but think about what Invasion Day would look like if everyone decided to stay home, briefly considering it to be selfish and self-centred.

However, after going through 2020, which was undeniably a year of exhaustion as protests and vigils for Blak deaths didn't stop, I began to understand. Closing the gap, deaths in custody, police brutality, the referendum, Invasion Day, minority stress, systemic racism, regular day-to-day racism. As a Wakka Wakka person, I finally understood why I needed a break — because rest is resistance.

'Rest is resistance' is a comfort cry (as opposed to a battle cry) taking Bla(c)k communities by storm. The term — coined by the founder of The Nap Ministry, Tricia Hersey — explores the “liberatory power of rest” and how pausing for a moment disrupts the colonial, patriarchal capitalist systems we all live under. 

It's something that honestly, I needed to hear. Days would pass when my chest was so tight with anxiety that it hurt. I’d get so angry I’d get a huge headache and the only thing that would calm it sometimes was watching episodes of The Magic School Bus from under a weighted blanket. I couldn’t keep writing, fighting and posting. I needed to rest.

So rest, I did. I took breaks from showing up. I retreated to a fandom Twitter account so I could spend time online without having it all in my face. To some, it might sound like cowardice, but given the stats on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander mental health and our shorter life expectancy, taking care of myself is the bravest thing I’ve done.

It’s tiring to exist as a Blak person sometimes. It’s tiring to consistently see news about land desecration, mining corps mistreating the land and its people, and to never know if it will be your cousins or siblings in the CCTV footage hitting the news next. 

But you can’t fight if you’re exhausted, so sometimes, the fighting must pause and you have to take a break — to breathe and to rest. Hersey describes 'rest as resistance' as a disruption of capitalism and white supremacy. She posits that “capitalism was created on the plantations” and argues that it's the same system that forces the globe to exhaustion. 

This exhaustion is something I know all too well. Working in reconciliation, I've seen the flaws of the concept up close. There were days when I’d have to campaign for 'Yes!' despite sitting on the fence. I'd have to answer insensitive questions and deal with well-intentioned (but still tiring as fuck) white people. When I would clock out of work, I'd come home and have the exact same interactions play out in my Instagram DMs.

So I made the decision to not talk about the referendum to anyone. I wasn’t doing anything vaguely work-related off the clock. I was no longer answering DMs seeking racial counsel and consultation without payment, especially with the knowledge that my Nan had her wages stolen in the past. Instead, I spent October 14th watching all of SHINee's title track MVs and rhinestoning. It turns out boundaries and self-care are important.

But despite spending the day resting, I spent the night working in a production of all Blak performers. The mood was heavy, the feelings were plentiful, and yet, the show had to go on. I had a show to produce, and seven other Blak performers had to take the stage and dazzle the crowd with their art, despite internally feeling a complex array of feelings. While rest might be seen by some as a privilege, I can say without a doubt that it is a right — and in that moment, it's something myself (and all the other performers) would have appreciated.

But I'm not the only one who's come to this realisation. At the Brisbane Writers’ Festival, Noongar and Yamatji woman Brooke Blurton stated that one of the biggest things she’s learnt was that it was okay to take a moment for yourself. “It’s okay to stop, the world’s not going to end," she said in a segment.

Similarly, I spoke to Kalkadoon artist and owner of Little Butten, Breanna Buttenshaw, who explained what 'rest is resistance' means to her. “Rest is resistance is resting my spirit," she says. "I shouldn’t have to fight so hard to be heard in a world that doesn’t want to listen. So this year, I will rest. I will stay with my community. I will support my community. I will rest and I will heal".

Breanna tells me that for her, every day is a battlefield. In particular times of turmoil, she recalls people purposely sending her photos of deceased black people online — something I can, unfortunately, corroborate as many of my First Nations friends were spammed with images of Eric Garner and George Floyd in their final moments in a group chat, somewhere we thought was a safe space. We weren’t even able to have an online space with our friends without the violence and racism being thrown in our face yet again.

But these events didn't make Breanna want to turn away. Instead, they made her angrier and more hurt, so she kept fighting until her spirit broke. In speaking about the reasoning of the trolls, she said: “Why? To upset me? To hurt me? To wound me? They did, and I kept fighting. That only fed them, they felt like they won because they got my attention, they got my time and my anger. They broke my spirit”. Breanna has since decided to not use her energy on these interactions and instead, has decided to use her energy to rest and succeed.

Meanwhile, a Wailwan and Wiradjuri performer who goes by Keira tells me that she feels pressure to always speak up about issues. “As a First Nations performer, I feel pressure to represent a community or be the first one to speak publicly on political matters. Who I am as a person and a performer is a political statement in itself and sometimes, that can be enough.” 

She points out that the onus placed on all First Nations people to always be a voice is an unfair burden. “The weight of these expectations and assumed responsibilities can be heavy to carry, which is where the importance of rest is resistance comes in for me. We are worthy of rest and prioritising ourselves.”

Just like Keira, I've had similar thoughts and feelings, felt especially at a recent interaction I had at a friend’s gathering. The topic of Invasion Day came up and someone had remarked that they don’t see “Australia Day” as a day to celebrate, but don’t see anything wrong with having a party on the public holiday. They later criticised Mob for "doing nothing" and for not doing or saying anything during the referendum. Perhaps ‘their’ Mob were resting rather than providing unpaid labour at a friend’s gathering. While it might seem like a small interaction, it's the reality for many First Nations people — I can't enjoy a moment with friends without feeling like I'm working or advocating for common sense (which is not to celebrate genocide).

I, and other Blak folk, can’t take care of ourselves, our families and our communities if we’re run down and burnt out from all the archaic racist things that happen day to day. It’s a case of picking our battles. The month of January is so exhausting from the get-go because immediately, the lamb ads start, the racists appear on Twitter spamming every Blak person, you're constantly subjected to neverending discussions about the public holiday and when’s best to have it, then finally the day comes, and we'll inevitably see someone who we love and trust celebrating the day.

You can’t fight with an empty belly and you can’t pour from an empty glass. It’s okay to take a moment and break. They want our reactions. They want our anger. I'm just protecting myself by not giving it to them. It’s okay to resist the colonial patriarchal capitalist expectations that say that you must be working or doing something to justify your worth and place. Rest assured, the world won’t end and you can tag back in when you’re recharged and ready. 

Rest. Resist.