The Revolution Requires Rest

Every morning, before my feet touch the ground, I take a deep breath and remind myself: the revolution is a marathon, not a sprint. But even as I say the words, I know how difficult they are to live by. We are in an unrelenting moment. The attacks on bodily autonomy, LGBTQ+ rights, and the very lives of people living with HIV are not slowing down. We are navigating a political landscape that demands everything from us—and often more than we can give.

For those of us who have dedicated our lives to this work, rest can feel like a luxury we can’t afford. We are movement leaders, organizers, healers, and advocates. We fight not just for policies, but for people—our people. And yet, I have learned that if we do not claim rest as a necessary part of revolution, we will burn out before we see the change we are fighting for.

I am a Black, queer man living with HIV. I carry the history of those who fought before me—ancestors in the struggle for civil rights, for queer liberation, for the dignity of people living with HIV. That weight is both a privilege and a responsibility. But responsibility does not mean self-sacrifice. Too often, we in movement spaces have been conditioned to believe that exhaustion is a badge of honor, that working ourselves to the bone proves our commitment. It does not. The truth is, exhaustion is not a strategy. And burnout is not a badge.

The revolution requires rest.

Audre Lorde told us, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” She was right then, and she is right now. If we want to be here for the long haul—if we want to win—we must intentionally recharge. We must care for ourselves and each other with the same ferocity that we fight for justice.

The Weight and Complexity of Being “The First”

For Black and Brown leaders stepping into roles historically occupied by white predecessors, the weight of leadership is even heavier. It is not just about leading an organization, a movement, or a cause—it is about navigating the unspoken, often unaddressed burdens that come with being “the first.” The first Black CEO, the first Brown Executive Director, the first leader of color in a space that has long dictated who belongs at the table and who does not.

We are expected to perform at a higher standard, to prove our legitimacy, to carry the hopes of those who fought to open the door for us while also being scrutinized in ways our white counterparts never were. Our presence alone disrupts the status quo, and that disruption is met with resistance—sometimes subtle, sometimes overt, but always present.

The microaggressions, the coded language of “fit,” the questions about our experience despite decades of expertise—all of it compounds. The labor is not just in leading but in navigating the constant expectation that we must not only do the job but justify why we deserve to be there in the first place. It is exhausting. And it is unsustainable if we do not allow ourselves to rest.

To my fellow movement leaders, to the Black and Brown queer activists holding the line, to the people living with HIV who refuse to be invisible—I see you. I see how hard you work. I see the sleepless nights, the back-to-back meetings, the constant calls to action. I see the emails that don’t stop, the policies that keep shifting, the fight that never seems to let up. But I also see the weariness. And I need you to know: you are allowed to rest. You must rest.

Rest is resistance. Rest is a radical reclaiming of our time and our bodies. Rest is what allows us to continue the work—not just tomorrow, but for decades to come.

So here is my invitation to you: take the time. Step away when you need to. Find joy in the quiet moments. Sleep without guilt. Laugh with abandon. Be with your people in ways that nourish your soul. And when the world tells you that rest is weakness, remind yourself that rest is the strategy that will keep you in the fight.

We are not free yet. But we will get there. And when we do, it will be because we learned to sustain ourselves as well as our movements. The revolution requires many things—courage, strategy, persistence. But above all, the revolution requires us. And to show up fully, we must rest.