Juniper Martineau
Carnations and Steel
Last time around, in 2016, I hid. All night blue light, scrolling endlessly on the edge of panic, racing to know the news so thoroughly it could never wreck me again.
Full of fear, and shame at my own terror, I dulled it all, first with darkness (whisky; imaginary apocalypses; the toxic combination of cynicism and despair) and then, I thought, with distance.
But I ended up with new eyes in Lisbon, at the Museum of Aljube – Resistance and Freedom, just across the street from the complicit cathedral, where holy men prayed while dissidents screamed. For more than 40 years, those who dared defy the fascist Estado Novo were slotted into “drawers,” the narrowest of isolation cells, beaten for secrets and tortured by bells, and then exiled to prison camps, if they survived.
Standing at the door of the tiny prison cell with the Church only yards away, I saw: you can bow or you can fight, but the struggle continues, a luta continua. I saw: petty tyrants everywhere through all time, but, also, legions who resist not only the dictator’s rules but also the limbic pull to submit. I saw: underground networks, treasonous leaflets, secret gatherings in the night, people who did not obey, even when—especially when—their very bones were afraid.
Let us nourish our imaginations with the stories of those who refused to submit: ordinary people who steeled themselves, braved the promise of certain death, and did not comply. Let us sing of how, one time, in Portugal, people toppled fascism with coded messages on broadcast radio, and insurgents slipped carnations into the muzzles of their guns.
This time around, in 2024, I see the strangest of silver linings: I get to do it again, differently. This time, I can live out a response I can live with. I’m better prepared, this time, having worked to unlearn my instinct to freeze. A few years in the desert, calming my core with the widest of skies, has shown me that nerves can bend, not only snap. I rebuilt my nervous system, like you do an old engine, to make it capacious and resilient, like a worn leather satchel that can hold it all.
This time, I’m not hiding. I’m staying sharp as a fine blade, reflecting the light all around me, ready to help and ready to fight.