Writing for the Resistance

a short story for now

Two weeks ago on 2/14/2025 I attended an online seminar hosted by some amazing creative writers and it was called ‘Writing for the Resistance.’ The small fee to attend was donated to ACLU. I listened to Suzanne, Terri, Minton and Sarah surmise ways to take the culture we are living in and instead of continuing to say, ‘I can’t believe what is happening’ or ‘I don’t know what to do’ and turn to the page. ‘Nothing has been more important than the written word’ is the quote I wrote down - I’m not sure who said it but I keep thinking about that line and it has invited me to sit down and write.

They gave us a prompt and about 20 minutes to write on the Zoom call. I found myself writing what felt like a different kind of piece for me. Maybe it’s fiction, or an allegory, or something else. It sure did not feel like a journal entry. There was some other power feeding me - and in the group there was a profound feeling of calling to action and resistance to tyranny and authoritarianism, as well as a deeper support for women and other marginalized people who are BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ and the need to connect to integrity. It was moving. The short meditation we did to allow the window of creativity to open and allow spirit to come through was palpable. Here is what I wrote:

Sister Wind was shivering down the path as she walked along and encountered a large four legged cat. It was the color of abalone. She didn’t know if she could go around it or if it was even alive. She paused. This was not the day to encounter an unknown beast. Did it just hiss at her, or was that the sound of the trash truck one alley over from her apartment?

Wind was late for work and she was on her period which had been really annoying this time. Cramps galore and she had wanted to sleep and sleep. She had jumped in a hot shower and also longed to stay in there, the water pelting her fascia. In fact it electrified her energy that day, the mysterious combination of water and wind mixing together to form a new found electricity. She was energized, and her hair was quite frizzy as a result. She pounded an instant coffee with a tablespoon of mushroom powder, grabbed a ginger sprig to snack on and busted out the door.

But now, even in her energized state, stood this obstruction in her path. She looked around, and strangely saw no one else on the normally busy street lined with apartments. Bergen Street usually had people moving their cars to the other side of the street at this hour, before going back to bed or rushing off to the train. But today, this Friday morning, not a soul. What the heck, she thought, glancing at her phone. No emergent notifications, no panicky texts, actually nothing at all. Her last text was sent last night, to her so-called boyfriend, Good night I guess. He had not responded and she felt nothing about it.

The large cat, upon a closer look, seemed very still, both menacing and vulnerable. She dared to reach out her hand. It was a bit damp with sweat from the quick coffee ingestion, and suddenly a little shaky. This cat had energy. It was easily 4 feet taller than her. She wondered if she should feel afraid suddenly, but she did not. Sister Wind was in her body, and she was good in stressful situations, actually she was the best she knew when shit was going down. Somehow chaos genuinely suited her, which is why she was good at her job, even if she thought she was phoning it in sometimes. But now, she felt calm, yet uncertain. So uncertain, yet centered. She leaned back on her heels. They were chunky boots with rubber souls and she loved those boots, so worth what she paid on Poshmark. She grounded herself, and reached out, just a bit more, and dared to take a small swipe to touch this cat with her fingertips.

From her tips came the wind. She had almost forgotten she was in fact Sister Wind. Whoosh whoosh and the object ruffled. And as she nearly blew it away, she discovered it was made of nothing but paper.

Ha! She knew exactly what to do.

“Paper Tiger!” She shouted, "Stand down.”

The cat stared. Did it just blink? Did it just disobey her orders? Did it have the audacity to do such a thing?

“I know what you are made of and I can end this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

It did not move. She reached into her pocket book, and grabbed a pack of matches from the bar she closed last night. The air around her seemed to swirl and leaves blew up and around in circles.

The cat stood, almost daring her to act. She struck the match and touched the paper tiger, and suddenly it burned a little, and when she blew out the match with her mighty might wind, the entire cat went up in flames.

Sister Wind took down the paper tiger. No one was around to witness. But she knew it was her duty. She headed to the subway.

Paper tiger: one that is outwardly powerful or dangerous but inwardly weak or ineffectual (Merriam Webster)

I would love to hear what you think of Sister Wind.

Sometimes no one is around to witness the small courageous acts of resistance, but they definitely contribute to the whole, and we are powerful together.

My heart is with you, mp