How Can Indigenous Wisdom Teach Us to Practice Everyday Resistance and Find Wholeness?

What Does Living Resistance Mean for Personal Growth and Community Healing in 2026?

Explore Kaitlin B. Curtice’s Living Resistance and learn how Indigenous practices from the Potawatomi Nation redefine resistance as daily acts of connection, belonging, and healing. Discover practical ways to decolonize your mindset, honor ancestors, embrace generosity, and build solidarity for collective liberation and wholeness.

Learn how ancient Indigenous practices offer modern pathways to personal wholeness and collective healing—seven transformative principles that will reshape how you engage with yourself, your community, and the Earth starting today.

Genres

Personal Development, Biography, Memoir, Society, Culture

Introduction: Discover how everyday resistance will reconnect you with your humanity.

Living Resistance (2023) redefines resistance as a universal, everyday calling rooted in connection, belonging, and holistic flourishing. Inspired by the sacred practices of the Potawatomi Nation and other Indigenous traditions worldwide, it empowers readers to seek wholeness and liberation within their own spheres of influence, emphasizing that every act of resistance contributes to collective well-being.

When you hear the term resistance, what do you imagine? A fierce protest, perhaps, or a courageous individual quietly refusing to be oppressed? Resistance takes myriad forms and performs many fundamental roles. In fact, in a world that often prioritizes efficiency and progress over the sacred rhythms of life, reconnecting with what’s most human in us has become a form of resistance.

Resistance is more than just an act of defiance. It’s a return to the wisdom that we are all born, we live, grieve, and celebrate, and one day, we become ancestors. Resistance is also a way to liberate yourself from oppressive systems. In this summary, we’ll explore the true nature of resistance, and how hearing its call not only reconnects us with our deepest sense of self, but ultimately benefits everyone in the community. Ready to learn how you can live in resistance, every day? Let’s begin.

Spark resistance with curiosity

Transformative journeys often begin with questions. So let’s start by asking a big one: What is resistance?

In scientific terms, resistance is a force acting in the opposite direction of another body, like friction. Social resistance operates similarly – it’s the force we use to push against oppressive systems that disconnect us from our humanity. But it’s more than opposition; resistance also involves consciously choosing what to embrace. For instance, when we reject racism or ableism, we’re actively choosing a more inclusive and just society. This kind of resistance means we’re not just rejecting harmful ideologies, but building new paths that uplift marginalized communities.

Deconstructing systemic beliefs that have been ingrained in us is essential. For example, colonial systems have long pushed the belief that Indigenous cultures and languages were inferior, leading to centuries of subjugation. In this context, resistance involves reclaiming Indigenous knowledge, land stewardship practices, and languages. It also means breaking down harmful ideas, like the notion that queer communities or people of color are somehow lesser, and choosing to create spaces of equality and dignity.

But let’s return to questions, because they are where resistance begins. What questions are in your heart today? Perhaps: How can I make my space more welcoming? How can I better tend to the land around me? These questions crack open space for healing and reflection.

As children, curiosity is natural to us, but as adults, we often trade it for security – usually tied to capitalism, which commodifies land and distances us from ancient, intuitive practices. Resistance isn’t just fighting what we oppose, but reclaiming curiosity toward ourselves, our communities, and the land. By asking questions, we begin to shift perspectives, and from that shift, resistance follows naturally, guiding us toward a future of collective healing and empowerment.

Resistance calls us to stand with others

Forging connections with our humanity is the very foundation of resistance. So how do we build those connections? Being fully human means loving ourselves well, but none of us exist in isolation. To resist, we must also love one another, the earth, and all its creatures. Solidarity is the practice of remembering that we belong to each other, of refusing to turn away from one another’s stories.

Yet solidarity isn’t just about what we share – it’s about honoring and protecting our differences. Consider interfaith organizing, which respects and uplifts distinct religious practices in societies where white Christian supremacy often marginalizes other faiths. By acknowledging differences, solidarity resists the shame and fear that society imposes on the “other.” Instead, it celebrates diversity and defies the forces that compel us to conform to a narrow definition of what it means to be a “good citizen.” This resistance is especially crucial in rejecting state and police violence, which disproportionately targets Black, Brown, Indigenous, queer, trans, and disabled bodies.

For example, when we protest police murders of Black people at exponentially higher rates or stand with Indigenous communities in Brazil against Bill PL 490 – legislation designed to strip those communities of their ancestral lands – we practice solidarity. These acts of resistance mean showing up for those on the margins who put their lives on the line to defend their rights. Similarly, resisting violence against marginalized bodies means fighting for the rights of disabled and immunocompromised individuals. The COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted how these communities are disproportionately affected by a society that often ignores their needs.

True resistance lies in seeing, honoring, and protecting the most vulnerable. Through solidarity, we reject the structures that harm and limit those at the margins, and instead build a society embedded with love, care, and justice for all.

Resistance is rooted in love

Resistance is often framed as fighting against an external force. But what if it begins with something much deeper – like love? Specifically, radical self-love. Unlike the commodified version promoted by capitalism, radical self-love involves a deep and unconditional respect for yourself, your community, and the world around you. What happens when we expand the concept of self-love beyond the individual? It becomes communal – a force that reconnects us with each other and with the land that nurtures us all.

Imagine self-love as a light emanating from within, connecting you to others who also love themselves. In this way, self-love becomes a reciprocal act. The Potawatomi refer to Mother Earth as Segmekwe, a source of life and light. Just as she provides for us, we are called to care for her. This connection to the land is central to Indigenous resistance practices, where protecting the Earth isn’t just an act of survival but one of reverence. For instance, the Mi’kmaq people of Canada practice sustainable fishing, the Maasai in Kenya maintain pastoralism that respects ecosystems, and the Quechua in Peru preserve ancient seed varieties to safeguard biodiversity.

While Indigenous peoples have long been custodians of the Earth, this doesn’t absolve the rest of us from our duty of care. Through its commodification of land, colonialism has severed many from this relationship. The Doctrine of Discovery, a legal and religious framework used to justify European colonization, declared that non-Christian lands were free for the taking. This doctrine not only dispossessed Indigenous peoples but also entrenched the idea that land is a commodity. Resisting this mindset requires decolonizing our relationship with the Earth and rejecting the idea that land can be owned or exploited without consequence.

Today, resistance is reflected in movements like the Minnesota pipeline protests, Indian farmers protecting seeds from Monsanto agrochemical products, and Kenya’s women-led Green Belt Movement. These efforts reject capitalist and patriarchal frameworks, instead fostering kinship with the Earth. As Ojibwe activist Tara Houska reminds us, it’s only when we radically reframe our connection with Mother Earth that we can find pathways out of environmental crises.

Resistance begins by healing our relationship with the Earth. Start a journaling practice – a letter to Mother Earth – and explore what you need to unlearn to connect with her.

Resistance is connecting with ancestors

We all have ancestors, and they are the reason we’re here. Indigenous peoples often honor their ancestors through rituals like spirit plates – offering food to the spirits of those who came before us – and building altars that serve as sacred spaces for remembrance. The Potawatomi, for example, hold a deep belief in the Seven Generations principle, which teaches that what we do today will affect not only our descendants but also the next seven generations. This awareness creates a continuous reckoning with both our ancestors and those yet to come, forging a profound connection to our lineage.

Honoring ancestors is more than just reverence – it’s a joyful obligation. This awareness grounds us in a living history, reminding us that we owe something to both our forebears and those who will follow. Resmaa Menakem, a trauma specialist and author, invites people to connect with their ancestors through visualization. His exercise encourages us to sit in silence, breathe deeply, and imagine the faces of those who came before, allowing us to feel their presence and guidance. This practice not only connects us to our past but also urges us to ask: What kind of ancestor do we want to be?

Being an ancestor to the future means engaging in the work of decolonization now. Decolonization isn’t about centering white voices or activism, as we’ve seen in movements like MeToo, where white activists were celebrated while Black and Indigenous activists were often sidelined. Decolonization means dismantling the colonial structures around us and within us, centering Indigenous voices. Indigenization, a related but distinct concept, involves actively incorporating Indigenous knowledge and practices into systems, institutions, and ways of life, creating space for Indigenous leadership.

One example of a need for decolonization is the Thanksgiving holiday, rooted in colonial violence. Abraham Lincoln created the holiday in 1863 during the Civil War, a time when the US government was also engaged in violent campaigns against Native peoples, such as the mass execution of 38 Dakota men in Minnesota the previous year. To decolonize Thanksgiving, we can start by telling the truth about its origins, celebrating Indigenous foods and cultures, and actively engaging with Native American Heritage Month. Embracing these practices honors the past, reshapes the present, and lays the groundwork for a better future.

Resistance rejects a scarcity mindset

In a world filled with hate, resistance often means drawing from deep reserves of care, channeling every resource we have into acts of kindness and generosity. And when we give more than what’s necessary, offering time, energy, and resources freely, we enrich both ourselves and others. Grounded in generosity, this form of resistance is woven into many Indigenous cultures, where giving isn’t just a personal virtue, but a vital social and spiritual practice.

For example, in many Indigenous communities, the act of giving isn’t transactional but relational. Among the Hopi people, gifts of corn and seeds are a form of sharing life itself, while in Māori culture, manaakitanga, or hospitality, is a core value that centers on uplifting the community through generosity. One of the most well-known ceremonies that embodies this principle is the potlatch ceremony, practiced by the Kwakwaka’wakw people of British Columbia. At a potlatch, the host gives away vast amounts of wealth – blankets, food, canoes, even land – not to flaunt their riches, but to redistribute resources among the community. The most respected person is the one who gives more than anyone else, flipping the Western idea of hoarding wealth for power on its head.

The potlatch is a powerful act of resistance, especially in a world shaped by capitalism and scarcity. Colonizers brought a scarcity mindset to North America, teaching that there’s never enough to go around, and fostering a culture of competition and stockpiling. In contrast, Indigenous practices like the potlatch teach that true power comes from sharing. Imagine how different history could have been if European settlers had embraced this mindset of abundance, rather than exploiting the land and its peoples.

Generosity, as a form of resistance, fuels activism. Whether it’s mutual aid networks during a crisis or protest movements that share food and supplies, the spirit of giving strengthens communities. To resist means to reject the fear of scarcity and embrace generosity as a tool for change. Take a moment to reflect. When has someone been generous with you, and how did that impact you? How can you pass that gift forward in your own life?

Resistance is a life’s work

Life moves in cycles, like the changing of the seasons. It’s not a straight path marked by constant progress, but a dynamic flow that includes growth, setbacks, reflection, and renewal. To resist means to embrace this cyclical nature, rather than conforming to a linear narrative of success. Nature teaches us this: the bare trees of winter give way to the blossoms of spring, and the harvest of autumn follows the growth of summer. Just as nature has its seasons, so does resistance.

Your resistance will take different shapes in different seasons of your life. Sometimes, it’s bold and fierce, like a protest or public stand against injustice. Other times, it’s quiet, like taking time to heal, rest, or nurture your community. Resistance might mean challenging oppressive systems in one moment, and caring for yourself and others in the next. For instance, in one season, resistance could be speaking out against systemic racism, while in another, it might be fostering joy and connection in your community, planting seeds of hope for future generations.

No matter what form it takes, resistance is an ongoing practice. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when the fight for justice seems endless, but the important thing is to keep moving, even when it feels futile. As Rabbi Alan Lew put it, we often spend so much energy trying to hold on to an identity, a story of who we think we are. But when we let go of the need for perfection, something deeper persists – something resilient and enduring.

It’s natural that in times of struggle, doubt, or grief, resistance may feel too difficult. In these moments, give yourself grace. Rest if you need to, but know that the work of resistance never truly stops. It’s your life’s work, and though it may feel like a story that will never end, every turn brings you closer to the truth. So, keep going, even when it’s hard – finish the song, complete the story.

Conclusion

In this summary to Living Resistance by Kaitlin B. Curtice, you’ve learned that resistance is a multifaceted, ongoing process that begins with questioning oppressive systems and reconnecting with our humanity, community, and the Earth. It involves rejecting colonial mindsets, embracing Indigenous practices like generosity, and fostering solidarity with marginalized communities to build a just society. Ultimately, resistance is grounded in love – love for oneself, the land, and future generations – and requires a cyclical, adaptive approach that balances action with reflection, healing, and grace.