A few years ago, I was playing around with book ideas, when I fixated on Eat, Pray, Love. The title was the best part of that book, and I wondered what the “eat, pray, love” of organizing would be. I settled on “think, feel, act.” I started writing about how a person could go about thinking and feeling the things that would get them to take action for freedom and justice.
Over dinner one evening, I mentioned the project to my friend Mallika Dutt, a longtime feminist organizer and the founder of Breakthrough. After listening for a few minutes, she said, “Actually, I think act comes first.” In seven words, Mallika reminded me that we, supposedly rational people, are capable of rewriting even our own history in ways that facts don’t support. I thought harder about my own path to organizing.
The very first thing I ever did was go to a rally for racial justice organized by Black students on my campus. I went because my friends told me it would be good to show up. Good for Black students, good for students of color generally, good for the school, and good for me. I trusted them, so I went.
The feeling I had in motion was different from the ones I had watching the Roots mini series or reading about the civil rights movement in school. In those “engagements,” designed to get me to think, I felt empathy, outrage and admiration, but the distance between me, young Indian immigrant, and Black communities remained, outside my high school friendships. Similar emotions bubbled up at the rally, but there was more. I felt, but could not articulate until many years later, that I had found people I could be with. I sensed the possibility of adventure, that getting involved would put me on a different path than expected. When organizers asked me to do the next thing, I said yes. I did start studying movements, theories, identities, but it was action that brought my whole body, not just my brain, into community.
I suspect that an invitation to action from friends belongs in many activist origin stories, including those of conservatives. For example, sociologist Ziad Munson, found that the way in which sophisticated anti-abortion activists described their entry into the movement suggested a path they didn’t actually take. The movement itself “legitimated” the notion of emphasizing their belief in the cause as the driver, however, people were brought into anti-abortion organizing and events not because they shared an ideology, but because it gave them opportunities to socialize, network and be in community. Munson writes that “Individuals get involved in the pro-life movement by participating in pro-life events, not necessarily because they are thinking pro-life thoughts.”
It’s been exciting to watch the rise of 21st century movements: to see historic numbers of people stand up for racial justice, women’s rights, and democracy. But I can’t help notice that “think, feel, act” has become a widespread approach to organizing. We see it in the enormous amount of infotainment that shapes modern discourse about social issues, in the rise of influencers who may or may not be connected to movement, in everyday peoples’ obsession with fact checking their Trump-voting (former) friends and family members, and in how organizations use their narrative real estate.
We have found millions of ways to make up for an information deficit, but no matter which tone we take, so much of this education conveys that audiences are misguided, uninformed and immoral if they don’t adopt our analysis. This seems quite obviously like a losing proposition. Putting aside proud racists, misogynists and eugenicists, we think “persuadable” is a person entirely different from us, some vague movable middle, and we don’t really expect them to act. And, even when we get folks on board with our analysis and solutions, practitioners and researchers find again and again that they still aren’t willing to do anything because they don’t really think that anyone can take down the power structure we’ve studied so hard.
I’m a long time critic of Saul Alinsky’s notion that community organizations should be non-ideological. Such a thing is impossible because people have ideas about how the world works. But recognizing the role of ideology in organizing doesn’t mean it should become everything, or even that it should come first. Without people willing to act, ideological clarity is meaningless. As Anna Castro, VP of Communications at the Transgender Law Project says, “Action precedes belief. We’re not going to politically educate our way out of this mess.”
I got as far as writing a little proposal for “Think, Feel, Act,” before I talked to Mallika. I sent it to my sister, herself a fantastic writer and activist. She wrote back, “is there a way to broaden the appeal? It feels a little cold.” Indeed! Action is the great warm up, and “act, feel, think” is our mantra.
Moved to Act: Why People Really Join Movements
A few years ago, I was playing around with book ideas, when I fixated on Eat, Pray, Love. The title was the best part of that book, and I wondered what the “eat, pray, love” of organizing would be. I settled on “think, feel, act.” I started writing about how a person could go about thinking and feeling the things that would get them to take action for freedom and justice.
Over dinner one evening, I mentioned the project to my friend Mallika Dutt, a longtime feminist organizer and the founder of Breakthrough. After listening for a few minutes, she said, “Actually, I think act comes first.” In seven words, Mallika reminded me that we, supposedly rational people, are capable of rewriting even our own history in ways that facts don’t support. I thought harder about my own path to organizing.
The very first thing I ever did was go to a rally for racial justice organized by Black students on my campus. I went because my friends told me it would be good to show up. Good for Black students, good for students of color generally, good for the school, and good for me. I trusted them, so I went.
The feeling I had in motion was different from the ones I had watching the Roots mini series or reading about the civil rights movement in school. In those “engagements,” designed to get me to think, I felt empathy, outrage and admiration, but the distance between me, young Indian immigrant, and Black communities remained, outside my high school friendships. Similar emotions bubbled up at the rally, but there was more. I felt, but could not articulate until many years later, that I had found people I could be with. I sensed the possibility of adventure, that getting involved would put me on a different path than expected. When organizers asked me to do the next thing, I said yes. I did start studying movements, theories, identities, but it was action that brought my whole body, not just my brain, into community.
I suspect that an invitation to action from friends belongs in many activist origin stories, including those of conservatives. For example, sociologist Ziad Munson, found that the way in which sophisticated anti-abortion activists described their entry into the movement suggested a path they didn’t actually take. The movement itself “legitimated” the notion of emphasizing their belief in the cause as the driver, however, people were brought into anti-abortion organizing and events not because they shared an ideology, but because it gave them opportunities to socialize, network and be in community. Munson writes that “Individuals get involved in the pro-life movement by participating in pro-life events, not necessarily because they are thinking pro-life thoughts.”
It’s been exciting to watch the rise of 21st century movements: to see historic numbers of people stand up for racial justice, women’s rights, and democracy. But I can’t help notice that “think, feel, act” has become a widespread approach to organizing. We see it in the enormous amount of infotainment that shapes modern discourse about social issues, in the rise of influencers who may or may not be connected to movement, in everyday peoples’ obsession with fact checking their Trump-voting (former) friends and family members, and in how organizations use their narrative real estate.
We have found millions of ways to make up for an information deficit, but no matter which tone we take, so much of this education conveys that audiences are misguided, uninformed and immoral if they don’t adopt our analysis. This seems quite obviously like a losing proposition. Putting aside proud racists, misogynists and eugenicists, we think “persuadable” is a person entirely different from us, some vague movable middle, and we don’t really expect them to act. And, even when we get folks on board with our analysis and solutions, practitioners and researchers find again and again that they still aren’t willing to do anything because they don’t really think that anyone can take down the power structure we’ve studied so hard.
I’m a long time critic of Saul Alinsky’s notion that community organizations should be non-ideological. Such a thing is impossible because people have ideas about how the world works. But recognizing the role of ideology in organizing doesn’t mean it should become everything, or even that it should come first. Without people willing to act, ideological clarity is meaningless. As Anna Castro, VP of Communications at the Transgender Law Project says, “Action precedes belief. We’re not going to politically educate our way out of this mess.”
I got as far as writing a little proposal for “Think, Feel, Act,” before I talked to Mallika. I sent it to my sister, herself a fantastic writer and activist. She wrote back, “is there a way to broaden the appeal? It feels a little cold.” Indeed! Action is the great warm up, and “act, feel, think” is our mantra.
Narrative Work Feels Hard Right Now. This New Tool on Narrating Racial Justice Can Help
Thinking Long-Term: What 2025 Taught Us About Narrative Power
Fire and ICE: A Close Look at the Narratives that Emerge When Immigration Enforcement and Disaster Relief Collide