The sun streams through my kitchen window as I struggle to find the right words. I feel drained, exhausted and disheartened. The recent German federal election and the rise of the far-right AfD still weigh heavily on me. My mind feels sluggish, dulled by an endless barrage of troubling news.

Each day brings headlines that defy belief. A shocking AI-generated video titled „Trump Gaza“ sends shockwaves around the world. Then there is the clip capturing the dramatic Oval Office confrontation between US President Donald Trump, Vice President J.D. Vance and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. In Germany, a former member of the neo-Nazi NPD youth organization now holds a seat in the Bundestag; another new lawmaker for the extreme-right AfD once boasted to be “the friendly face of National Socialism”. Meanwhile, the CDU’s “Small Inquiry into NGOs” threatens the non-profit status of organizations fighting right-wing extremism, a crucial pillar of our democratic civil society. And yet another attack has taken place in Mannheim …

I see the headlines, but they wash over me. It feels as if I’m watching a dystopian film—detached, a mere observer rather than a participant in reality. I feel numbness, where I once felt anger. Anger at the political bubble, at parties and politicians, at the media, at those who undermine democracy. But as quickly as the anger came, it has faded. And that terrifies me.

How do I spread hope when I feel powerless?
A journalist recently described her post-election state as a “voter’s hangover.” I think I have a politics hangover.

These past months have frightened me. Trump’s re-election and his cabinet of horrors. Elon Musk’s interference in the German election campaign. Russia’s hybrid warfare on German soil. Tech billionaires capitulating to Trump. Attacks in Magdeburg, Aschaffenburg, Munich, and Mannheim. A campaign season that felt more like a competition over who could deport the most people. The AfD entering the Bundestag as the second-largest party. And all of this against the backdrop of an accelerating climate crisis.

Sometimes it feels like the world is unraveling, and all we do is watch. And me? I sit here, tasked with spreading hope.

But how can I inspire hope when I feel afraid? When I feel powerless? I know the saying – there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. But this tunnel seems endless.

Before the election, my anger fueled me. Like many others in Germany, I attended protests, participated in campaign events, engaged in political debates, and stayed informed. I was active. I fought.

But now? Now I just want to turn it all off. No more news. No more politics. I search for hope, but I can’t find it.

Hope is a decision, not a feeling
Hope is not something that simply arrives. It is a choice. An act of resistance.

But withdrawing, shutting down, looking away – those are not options. Not now. Because if we retreat, the ones who want to dismantle democracy win.

The far-right extremists, the Kremlin, the Trumps and Musks of the world, the corporations profiting from environmental destruction – they are counting on us to give up. They thrive on our fear and on our silence. They want us to believe we are powerless. Because when we stop resisting, they remain unchecked. Their power is built on our despair.

We are stronger together
But we are not powerless. And we are certainly not alone.

Look closer, and you will see people fighting back. People standing up, uniting, refusing to be silent. Hundreds of thousands have taken to the streets in recent months to defend democracy, human rights, and climate justice. Local initiatives are strengthening communities. Journalists are exposing the truth. Activists are pushing back against extremism. They are proof that we are not alone. That there is resistance. That hope is resistance.

Still, it feels as though we are fighting on multiple fronts at once.

And we are. The climate crisis, democratic backsliding, social injustice – these are not isolated issues. They are deeply connected. That may seem overwhelming, but it also means that every action we take has a ripple effect. When we push back in one area, we create change also in others.

Anger is the opposite of resignation
Those who refuse to give up remind me that I do not have to bear this burden alone. They show me that our strength lies in unity. Every voice, every protest, every petition matters – not just in one arena, but in many.

Perhaps it is this interplay between anger and hope that drives us forward. The fight against right-wing extremism, against climate destruction, against social injustice – it is not easy. But it is necessary. And it is possible.

It is necessary because the alternative – resignation, apathy, the thought “What difference can I make?” – is simply not an option.

Democracy is not a given
Democracy is not something that is just handed to us. It is something we must defend. It thrives when we speak out, when we refuse to look away, when we refuse to surrender. When we tackle the climate crisis in a way that protects the most vulnerable rather than sacrifice them. When we pursue solutions that are democratic, socially just and focused on creating a livable future for all.

So take a moment. Breathe. Process. And then, with a healthy dose of defiance, keep going. Now more than ever.

This is our responsibility. And we do not have to walk this path alone. So here is my message to you: Be angry!

You would like more hopeful inspiration? You can find our Manifesto on Hope here.