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Fighting the Fire: How to Use Creativity as Activism and Resistance

  • Writer: Shelby Barillas
    Shelby Barillas
  • Jun 30
  • 12 min read

THE WORLD FEELS LIKE IT'S ON FIRE, AND WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE…at least, that's what I think to myself every time I watch the news. 


Meme of a dog sitting in a kitchen with fire surrounding him while he says "This is Fine"

Every day, it seems like the world is collapsing, one horrific headline at a time. Another attack. Another catastrophe. Another human rights violation. My chest tightens, my throat aches, my stomach is in knots, and still, I'm expected to go about my usual responsibilities. Wake up. Get dressed. Prepare for the day. Go to work. Answer Slack messages and attend Zoom meetings on things that seem arbitrary, unnecessary, and probably could have been covered in an email. Smile.


It feels disingenuous to live my life and enjoy it, knowing that larger issues are occurring in the world. It's emotionally exhausting to tune into the news just to hear about another disaster and then proceed with the rest of my day as if nothing is happening. As if everything is normal. 


There's nothing "normal" about the political state of our country. I'm tired of pretending it's fine when nothing feels fine. 


Meme of a dog sitting in a kitchen with fire surrounding him while he sarcastically says, "I'm okay with the events that are unfolding currently," while he melts in the fire.

As an empath, staying informed feels like emotional warfare. I'll open my phone for a "quick check" or a "mindless scroll" to distract myself, yet I still come away carrying the weight of tragedy, a backpack full of bricks made from every headline, policy, and injustice I've absorbed through my feed. And yet, I still scroll. 


This past month, I couldn't take it anymore. I'd been watching the news of ICE raids in Los Angeles and my hometown of Santa Ana, and as horrific as it was to witness, I couldn't scroll away. Videos surfaced of people being chased and detained outside grocery stores I once shopped at, people being torn away from their children at school pickups, and raids on the streets I used to live near. I've received panicked texts from friends and family, some afraid to leave their homes, others afraid to be seen. I feel helpless not being there with them and enraged at the system that treats the community that raised me like criminals instead of the backbone of this country. 


It's absurd how quickly the narrative can shift from "essential" to "illegal," from "heroes" to "threats." As if the people who work tirelessly day and night to keep this country running aren't human. As if they don't have families, dreams, or a right to safety. 


All of it, the rage, the grief, the guilt, has left me feeling burned out from feeling too much and not knowing where to channel it. I don't have answers, and most days, I don't even have words. I feel a deep ache in my chest, with the looming question, What can I do?


That feeling of urgency brings me to this post, to this space. Even when I feel powerless, I know I still have a voice, small but mighty. I still have my creativity, my work, and my passion, and maybe, just maybe, these seemingly small things can be the start of something bigger, something impactful. 


The Paralysis of Political Overwhelm

When life feels like it's caving in, my initial instinct is, "How can I fix this?" Perhaps it's my insatiable need to problem-solve, the people pleaser in me, or my overwhelming empathy; whatever it is, I've always had the urge to act, help, or make things better. 


After the news broke about the ICE raids in Santa Ana (happening the same week as the widespread protests), I turned to my usual coping strategies to help navigate and regulate my complex emotions. I tried working out to release the stress in my body. I tried meditating to soothe my anxieties. I tried to journal, hoping to exhaust my thoughts or at least outrun them for a bit on paper. These acts of self-care, though they didn't erase the pain, were essential in helping me navigate the overwhelming emotions. 


I think that many people find themselves in a similar position, struggling to articulate their feelings during times of political turmoil. It's not the outrage or the heartbreak that's hard to make sense of, but the paralysis, the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability, and not knowing what to do. Your mind is racing, your heart aches, but you can't seem to move into action. You want to do something, anything, but every effort feels unimportant, unsubstantial, or inaccessible.  


When I felt like I couldn't do anything, I turned to the one thing I do know, design. 


I decided to take my apprehension and channel my feelings into creating a carousel post for my creative accounts titled "What to Do When You're Feeling Politically Overwhelmed." In the post, I included a series of tips to help you ground yourself during uncertain times. I had posted it without thinking or expecting much interaction, but to my surprise, it gained traction quickly and resonated with thousands of people. Dozens of comments, hundreds of shares, thousands of people reposting it to their stories, and tagging friends. Some people thanked me for sharing and putting their feelings into words. Others added their tips. Most of all, people echoed the feelings I'd been experiencing: I'm overwhelmed. And I don't know what to do. 


Seeing this post go viral was a potent reminder that I wasn't alone in my fear and uncertainty. It also underscored the fact that creativity can be a form of activism, a shared language that connects us all. 


Shortly after creating my post, I came across a video from a TikTok creator, @KittyKnorr. She said something that validated my experience and inspired me: "Creativity is a threat to conservative values; creativity is a threat to homogeneity and conformity." She had communicated what I struggled to put into words. 


I may not have the money or power, but I have a creative voice and a small following that could potentially disrupt, inspire, or connect with others. 


Finding Power in Creative Expression

In one of my previous blog posts, "The Art of Being Seen: Rediscovering Purpose Through Creativity," I briefly expressed the Role of Art in Society and why it's essential. In another post, "Space for Serendipity: How to Find Belonging in Third Places," I reflected on how third spaces, such as coffee shops, bookstores, and public parks, can serve as safe havens for activism and dialogue through conversation, comfort, or quiet acts of rebellion. Similarly, I believe that creativity can be a kind of third space. A refuge for the overwhelmed, a rallying cry for the unheard, a vessel for resistance, or a whisper of hope during turbulent times. 


Historically, art has always served as a mirror, reflecting the times and politics of its era. From bold protest posters of the civil rights movement to Diego Rivera's captivating murals depicting the struggles of Mexican class systems, the Pussy Riot's guerilla punk performances staged against authoritarianism in Russia, creativity has long been a form of disturbance to the status quo. 


In recent years, we've seen how artists utilize their platforms and creative talents to emphasize or draw attention to political injustices. American artist Barbara Kruger uses her conceptual and graphic artwork to draw attention to media and politics directly and authoritatively, engaging the viewer through personal pronouns like "you" and "I." Her recent art installation reimagines the Pledge of Allegiance, confronting state violence and injustice occurring within the US. Mexican Mixed-media artist Narciso Martinez documents the lives of often-invisible migrant workers and their experiences with tenderness and defiance through the use of powerful imagery and intentional material choices. American rapper and singer Kendrick Lamar incorporated deliberate storytelling and soul into his lyrics and performance to address systemic oppression in the Black community during his 2025 Super Bowl halftime show, which more than 127 million people viewed. Designers like Shepard Fairey played a crucial role in the 2017 movement-building of the Women's March with his "We the People" series.


Even fashion can stand as a political statement. Fashion designer Willy Chavarria consistently uses his platform to challenge stereotypes and reframe mainstream narratives surrounding the Latino identity and community. His work defies traditional silhouettes and aesthetic expectations, crafting garments that tell deeply emotional and political stories rooted in his own experiences as a queer Latino man. In his recent Spring 2026 collection, shown at Paris Fashion Week, Chavarria transformed the runway into a powerful stage for protest, using his coveted spotlight to comment on the injustices facing Latino men detained and deported to Ecuador's detention centers. Everything, from his music choices to his styling and setting, was a calculated act of resistance. The collection is more about fashion; it's about forcing an often silent and affluent audience to reckon with the human cost of immigration policies. Through textiles, tailoring, and storytelling, Chavarria reminds us that clothing is more than a trend; it can be a call to action. 


Art, in all forms, is not neutral. Our choices are not (always) aesthetic; they are messages and movements. Every color, type, scale, and tone communicates a message, whether we intend to or not. Creation can become a form of resistance and release in times of crisis or despair. 


When I created my carousel post about "What to Do When You're Feeling Politically Overwhelmed," I wasn't trying to create "art"; I just wanted a way to steer my feelings of helplessness. Looking back, I realize I made deliberate visual choices to convey my message. I created a cluttered cover to represent the angst, which was also eye-catching visually. I contrasted this composition by following the rest of the slides to be simplistic and encourage stillness. I used neutral but warm colors, easy-to-read typefaces, and simple but effective imagery. My post was my form of intention and expression.


Creativity can act as a lifeline, a way to process grief, soothe burnout, and speak when words feel too fragile to articulate. Creativity can help raise awareness, spark dialogue, and encourage meaningful conversations. It can support causes and give those who feel powerless a voice or platform. When we feel stuck and stagnant in the paralysis of vulnerability, our creative voices act as expression. It can help us feel less alone. My design and writing have become a kind of emotional anchor, a way to alchemize dread into something that speaks to matters bigger than me. 


As I grow into myself as a writer and designer, I realize that community care, accessibility, and amplifying underrepresented voices are at the heart of my creative practice. They're the heartbeat of why I do what I do. To quote the ever-complicated but admirable Pablo Picasso, "The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." So, in true Shelby fashion, as a proud, committed, creative chaos coordinator, I'm channeling that purpose into a new passion project.


Small Ripples, Big Waves

I used to believe that activism came in only three forms: marching, organizing, and donating. While those are vital, impactful, and influential ways to spark a movement, I also wanted to include people like me. People who care deeply but feel physically or financially limited, those who want to help but aren't sure where to start, and those who feel burned out, anxious, or overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of injustice but still want to find a way to contribute. 


There's this unspoken pressure that activism has to be large-scale for it to "count"; that if you're not at the front of the protest line or donating large sums of money to a cause, you're not doing enough. That's not true! We must break the persistent tension of having to be woke 24/7. Activism comes in waves, large and small, loud and quiet that all ripple together to provoke change. Social change is a mixture of several driven actions, not just a single kind.  


Referring to the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. inspired individuals and galvanized communities through powerful speeches and strategic nonviolent organizations. Rosa Parks made a seemingly straightforward yet radical statement by refusing to give up her seat. Malcolm X mobilized rallies and critiqued institutional systems, calling for self-determination and justice. James Baldwin wrote powerful essays and novels that articulated the emotional and intellectual toll of racism. Nina Simone used music as a protest by performing songs like Mississippi Goddam, calling out the violence of white supremacy. Countless unnamed photographers, teachers, muralists, printmakers, playwrights, pastors, and dancers contributed to shaping the movement's soul beyond its strategy. 


These actions were a collective form of resistance, and every single one mattered.


I've chosen to contribute in the ways I know best - through my design, writing, and creative expression. I want to contribute to change by utilizing my design skills for the greater good. I've been using my small platform to share resources, design helpful and educational graphics, and reach out to local organizations offering my skills. 


In the past few weeks, I've been researching, pooling resources, and connecting with my creative community to organize and launch a campaign to support families impacted by the ICE raids in Santa Ana. This project blends art, activism, and mutual aid. It continues many of the themes I've explored on this blog this year: creative self-expression, community, and the chaotic pursuit of doing good without expecting a reward. Even if my actions feel small and the world feels like it's burning, I want to do my part in helping to put out the fire. 


If you're like me, a creative soul with the desire to help, here are a few ways to use your creative expression as a form of activism: 

  • Making/designing accessible educational posts or infographics

  • Creating stickers, posters, or mutual aid zines

  • Selling prints or handmade goods and donating the proceeds

  • Writing poetry or short stories that speak to your personal or political truths

  • Hosting community art nights or open mic events for expression and a form of community care

  • Choreographing dance pieces or performative art to reclaim space and spread a message

  • Building templates or toolkits that others can use to amplify their voice

  • Illustrating or animating key messages to make information more digestible and visually appealing

  • Starting a blog or newsletter to share perspectives and build community/solidarity

  • Using humor, satire, or visual metaphors to disarm fear and inform


You don't need a big platform to make an impact! Your creativity is a gift, and sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is share with intention. 


The Intersection of Creativity and Care

Staying politically active and informed can be emotionally taxing at times. Honestly, more often than I'd like to admit, I want to turn off my brain and stop all the static from headlines, hot takes, and harm. Indulging in creative expression can be a form of therapy, a way to let your body exhale and release after storing all the stress. 


When I'm not designing for clients or working on passion projects, I often turn to writing and sketching. There's something profoundly comforting and liberating about creating for yourself without judgment. In my journal, nothing has to make sense, be clear, or be cohesive; it just has to pour onto the page. Sometimes, it's just scribbles, shorthand notes, or half-written thoughts that trail off mid-sentence. Creative movement gives me a sense of agency or control amid chaos when everything is unstable.


In college, I served as a teaching assistant in an art program for individuals who were currently or formerly incarcerated. Each week, my peers and I led sessions that combined art history, creative warmups, and reflective prompts. Through collage, drawings, and shared storytelling, we witnessed how art could unlock dialogue, build trust, and process pain. That experience remains one of the most meaningful parts of my education. As much as I taught them, they also taught me. I learned how powerful and necessary creative connection can be. 


That same spirit lives in the projects I do now. I still carry the lessons they shared with me, both literal and emotional, and apply them to my own life when life feels too heavy to bear. 


Whether you paint alone in your room, write poems you never share, or host a fun craft with friends, you're practicing a form of care. You're tending to yourself, and that in itself is a type of activism. Community care isn't just an ideal; it's a requirement for survival and sanity. We can't march, protest, or speak out if we're emotionally depleted. We can't pour from an empty cup (trust me, I've tried). Creativity gives us a chance to replenish ourselves with hope and empathy, allowing us to serve others with the necessary emotional capacity. 


So knit, sing, make a playlist, write shitty poetry, finger paint on paper if you want to. Let your creativity cradle and comfort you. Your mind and body will thank you for it.


Final Thoughts

The world is, unfortunately, still on fire, and nothing has improved magically. Frankly, it might feel this way for a while, but I believe there's still hope for positive change.


Something that comforts me is knowing I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed. According to my viral post, 88,000 other people share the same sentiment. There's solace in the shared weight of emotion. I may not be able to fix everything wrong with the world, but I can still do my part to make it better. We all can. 


It's okay to turn off the news. It's okay to set boundaries. It's okay if your form of resistance doesn't look like the traditional approaches of marching, organizing, or giving a rousing speech with a megaphone. Perhaps your activism takes the form of sculpture, music, or simply showing up for a friend who is tired. Maybe it appears as rest and recovery. All forms count. 


Lean into your community when the heaviness hits; let them carry some of the weight when your arms get tired, and your legs can no longer hold you up. When you can, try to create something. Anything! A dance, a playlist, a meme or political cartoon, a photograph you take and immediately nitpick (but secretly grow to love). Not every art piece is meant to change the world; it just has to make you feel a little less powerless because creativity is one of the most sustainable forms of resistance that doesn't require permission or run out. Creativity lives in all of us, quietly waiting for us to start.


If the world is on fire, then let our work be the kindling for something greater.


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