I’ve been networking a lot since I lost my job. Since I haven’t gotten a job through direct application in 20 years, networking to find the right fit seems like a good plan, at least for the near term. During a call with a new contact, he asked me what hill I would die on. I had no idea.
In the moment, I said something about treating mental health in tandem with autoimmune diagnosis, which is something I do feel strongly about. But is it a hill I would die on? When we hung up, I was bothered. I didn’t think I had one. If I didn’t have a hill I would die on, what did that mean about me as an activist?
My new contact has been working in the advocacy space for a long time. Decades, I think. He has had a huge impact on a narrow disease population. His disease also turned out to be acute. I am not dismissing or minimizing his experience, but the ability to move past the physical definitely clears a few hurdles between a person and the hills they would die on.
I thought about it for a while, went through the things I have written about, the things I have spoken about, and the things that spur my emotions. A hill to die on is something you pursue with single-minded conviction. You put your whole self into it.
I can’t do that. The minute I put that part of me into a cause that is reserved for taking care of my conditions – it’s a big part – my conditions will eat me alive. I have fought way too hard to put myself in jeopardy like that. It’s just not the shape of my advocacy.
I know a lot of people do have hills they would die on. We need those people. They are the spearheads. They have the energy and drive to pursue their cause to its end. Maybe if I only had the first half of my constant companions – allergies, asthma, diabetes, back pain, retinopathy and just one of the neuropathies – I could do it. But when you put the rest on the table, I can get through the workday, write this blog, exercise, and (pre-COVID) see my friends every once in a while. Even vacation is a stretch, as complicated and draining as it is fun.
I just don’t have the energy to climb a hill, though if I did I would probably reach the top and fall down anyway. For a nap, not a figurative death.
That’s ok. The world needs us non-spearheads, too: the conversation starters, the instigators, the sparks and the support. It doesn’t mean we are any less activists. Activism comes in all shapes and sizes, just like our lives. It’s what we can give. If you can climb that hill and die on it, by all means, do that! But if you can’t, maybe you volunteer to support your cause through social media or join an online community or help the newly diagnosed to feel less scared. You’re still an activist.
It turns out I am not the only one who couldn’t identify the hill they would die on. An informal survey of my more active friends said it was about half and half. And while I would love to be one of those people who has the capacity to focus on the cause of our choice, I am satisfied being a fairly condition-stable activist. I will leave the hills to those with the energy to climb.