Your Body Is Not The Problem: Finding Peace When The World Is On Fire
The Collective Exhaustion Is Real
Let's be honest: we're tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired.
The political climate has created a persistent state of heightened alertness that our bodies were never designed to maintain long-term. Our nervous systems are overwhelmed, constantly scanning for threats. After years of this sustained stress, the idea of "pushing through" to maintain all the extras in life—especially those related to body maintenance—can feel impossible.
And the judgment that follows? The subtle (or not-so-subtle) messaging that we should still be eating "clean," exercising regularly, and maintaining our appearance during a time of profound uncertainty? That's not just unhelpful—it's rooted in systems of oppression that have always demanded perfection from our bodies while ignoring our humanity.
Privilege and Exhaustion: A Shared Yet Unequal Burden
The exhaustion we're discussing affects us all, but in profoundly different ways depending on our social location and identities.
For some of us—particularly those of us from marginalized communities facing misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, anti-fat bias and other systemic barriers—this level of exhaustion isn't new. The pressure to conform bodily to impossible standards while simultaneously fighting for basic rights has been our reality since long before 2016. Our resilience in the face of these ongoing struggles deserves... well, much more than just...recognition and respect... but, at the minimum, recognition and respect in the context of this blog post.
For others with more societal privilege, this current exhaustion might represent a newer experience of systemic vulnerability. This isn't to minimize anyone's struggle—rather, it's an invitation to see our collective exhaustion as both individually valid and connected to larger systems that have always demanded too much from our bodies while giving too little support to our spirits.
This moment offers an opportunity for solidarity across different lived experiences, recognizing that while we may not all face identical challenges, we can unite in questioning why any of us should have to battle for basic bodily peace in the first place.
When Control Feels Like Safety
Here's where it gets complicated. When the world feels chaotic, many of us instinctively tighten our grip on whatever we can control. And what's more accessible to control than our own bodies?
This is where diet culture and fitness regimens offer a seductive promise: "You may not be able to control what's happening in Washington, but you can control what goes on your plate." The rigidity of meal plans and workout schedules provides structure when everything else feels like shifting sand.
And yes, diets "work"—not to make us permanently smaller (the data is crystal clear that 95% of diets result in weight regain within five years), but to temporarily soothe our anxiety. They work to give us the illusion of safety in a threatening world.
When we're afraid, the impulse to shrink ourselves to fit patriarchal beauty standards isn't just about vanity—it's about survival. This pressure affects different communities in distinct ways: for some, it's about basic social acceptance; for others, it may intersect with racial, cultural, or economic pressures that compound the burden. In a world where social capital is still heavily tied to appearance, controlling our bodies can feel like one of the few paths to security, regardless of our background.
The Liberation Paradox
Here's the paradox we're living: The systems that profit from our body anxiety don't care that we're exhausted. They don't care that democracy itself feels fragile. In fact, they benefit from our collective distress—because distressed people make excellent consumers.
True liberation means recognizing that your struggling body isn't the problem. The problem is a culture that demands productivity and perfection even as the world burns around us. This affects each of us differently based on our identities and social positions, but the underlying system harms us all, even as it privileges some over others.
So what does authentic body care look like in these exhausting times?
Finding Your Way Back to Your Body
Compassion before optimization. Ask not "How can I improve my body?" but "What does my body need right now?" Sometimes the answer is movement, sometimes it's rest, sometimes it's connection with others. All are valid.
Redefine what counts as care. Maybe your form of body care right now isn't a rigorous workout but simply stepping outside for five minutes of fresh air. Maybe it's not a meticulously planned meal but ensuring you eat something—anything—when hunger strikes.
Find community in the struggle. One of the most insidious aspects of oppressive systems is how they isolate us. Sharing your experience—the fear, the exhaustion, the days when even basic self-care feels impossible—helps break that isolation. This means both finding people who share your specific experiences and building bridges across different lived realities, recognizing that while our struggles may look different, they often share common roots.
Recognize resistance in rest. In a culture that values productivity above all, allowing yourself genuine rest can be a radical act. Your worth is not determined by what you produce or how you look producing it.
The Political Is Personal
Let's be clear: caring for your body during difficult times isn't apolitical. In a world that profits from your self-hatred and exhaustion, loving your body—or even just making peace with it—is revolutionary.
This isn't about abandoning health or giving up on joy-bringing movement. It's about rejecting the notion that your body's appearance or performance is a measure of your worth, especially during times of collective trauma.
The systems of oppression that have created this exhausting political landscape are the same ones that profit from our body dissatisfaction. They feed off our insecurities and sell us "solutions" to problems they themselves created.
Moving Forward Together
The road ahead may be long and uncertain, but we don't have to walk it alone or abandon our bodies along the way. Instead, we can:
Acknowledge our exhaustion without shame
Extend the same compassion to ourselves that we offer others
Find small ways to remain embodied even when the world feels threatening
Recognize that surviving each day is enough
Your body is carrying you through unprecedented times. It doesn't need to be smaller, stronger, or more disciplined. It needs understanding, compassion, and the occasional reminder that even in the midst of chaos, you remain worthy of care—not because of how you look or what you accomplish, but simply because you exist.
And perhaps that's the most radical act of all: continuing to care for ourselves and each other, not despite the exhaustion, but because of it.
