Strength Training for the Soul of a Resister

What if your nervous system could say “no” before your mouth even needed to?

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There is a dangerous illusion many people live inside: the idea that resistance is something you do when things get really bad. That when injustice finally arrives at your doorstep—dressed in the uniform of policy, or cloaked in the language of “safety”—you’ll be ready.

But the truth is, most people won’t be.

They’ll be scared.

They’ll be confused.

And they’ll comply.

Not because they’re evil.

But because they never trained for resistance. They never built the muscle. They never practiced the no.

Real resistance doesn’t start with bullhorns and mass protests. It starts in small, daily refusals.

It starts when you choose not to accept the normalization of control—especially when it’s dressed up as courtesy, efficiency, or “just how we do things around here.”

It starts when you become someone whose nervous system has learned how to sit in discomfort without defaulting to obedience.

Resistance is a muscle. And like any muscle, it atrophies without use.

You can begin training right now. You must. Because the weight is coming.

Not someday. Now.

And it’s not just coming for them. It’s coming for your autistic child’s medical data.

It’s coming for your neighbor’s right to bodily autonomy.

It’s coming for your community’s language, your access, your freedom to dissent.

And when it does, you won’t have time to decide what kind of person you are. You’ll simply act out what you’ve practiced.

So—what are you practicing?

Here are ways to train:

Daily Acts of Micro-Resistance

• When the form says “black ink only,” write in teal.
  Why? Because “black ink” isn’t about legibility—it’s about obedience.

• When a sign says “Do not sit here,” sit for five minutes and breathe.
  Why? Because space is controlled as a way of controlling presence.

• When the group chat insists on “being civil,” ask the hard question anyway.
  Why? Because comfort is too often a euphemism for silence.

• When you’re told, “Don’t bring politics into it,” bring it anyway.
  Why? Because people in power don’t see their comfort as political—but it is.

• Say “no thank you” to surveillance tech, even if it’s “just for convenience.”
  Why? Because opting in makes their job easier—and your future less free.

• Keep your pronouns visible in your bio, even if no one else is.
  Why? Because norm-challenging is culture-shifting.

These are not “small” acts. These are foundational. They tell your body: I will not be governed without consent.

Protest Resistance Without Permission

• Don’t file for a permit.
  Show up in the street because it is a public street. You don’t need permission to grieve, to shout, to mourn, to rage. The demand for permits is a demand for domestication.

• Host a teach-in at a park without notice.
  Let it be messy. Let it be out of order. Let it be unsanctioned. We have been trained to think knowledge must be licensed, approved, housed in institutions. Let your resistance be uncredentialed and unstoppable.

• Chalk slogans on the sidewalk outside a government building.
  They’ll call it vandalism. You’ll know it’s memory. Refusing to ask permission to mark public space is a refusal to let grief and protest be contained.

Here’s the thing about people who imagine themselves to be resisters:

They often aren’t.

They are poets of revolution in safe rooms.

They are performers of justice until a badge shows up.

They share the quote, but shrink from the confrontation.

They don’t need more inspiration. They need practice.

You do not rise to the occasion. You fall to the level of your preparation.

So let’s prepare.

Let’s build a culture of people whose daily life is resistance. Not because it’s convenient. But because it’s necessary.

Because when the moment comes—and it will—what you’ve practiced will rise up in your throat, your chest, your feet.

You’ll say no.

You’ll sit down.

You’ll stand up.

You’ll not move when ordered to.

You’ll move when told to stay still.

And your nervous system will know exactly what to do.

Some call this “Anarchist Calisthenics.”

I just call it training for the kind of world we want to live in.

A world where refusal is sacred.

A world where obedience is earned—not assumed.

A world where your body remembers how to be free.

Are you practicing yet?