Here in the San Francisco Bay Area, fog has a name: Karl. When locals say, “take a jacket in case Karl comes in,” they’re talking about our familiar marine layer—that cooling, cleansing presence that regulates temperature and nourishes our ecosystem. But fog isn’t always friendly.
I have a vivid memory of driving through thick fog north of Chattanooga in the dead of night, racing to reach my sister before her second child was born. The fog was so dense we couldn’t see beyond the hood of our car. I panicked, completely disoriented, searching desperately for any sign of the road ahead. “Follow the fog line,” my spouse said calmly. “That white line at the edge of the lane—look ahead for that line.”
We’re All Driving Through Fog Now
In recent weeks, I’ve heard the same metaphor repeatedly: friends, colleagues, and leaders describing feeling “in a fog” or “moving through fog” as they struggle to focus, complete tasks, and remain present amid the daily crises threatening our democracy and our lives.
This fog isn’t just personal—it’s collective. Like the vengeful spirits in John Carpenter’s The Fog, our current moment carries the residue of past injustices, obscured truths, and unconfronted wounds. This fog of misinformation, hate, cruelty, democratic backsliding, and illiberalism threatens to overwhelm us all. Unlike the Bay’s friendly Karl, this fog is toxic—and it will take all of us to transform it back into something nourishing and cleansing.
Finding Our Fog Line: What It Takes
There is a way forward. Just as my spouse guided me to the fog line that night, we can find our way through—together.
It takes community. We cannot navigate this fog alone. We need real-life spaces where we see each other face-to-face, where turning off the camera isn’t an option, where authentic connection cuts through the haze of digital isolation. We need to sit in circles, around tables, over cups of coffee and tea, on stoops and front porches—together. Maybe to cry. Maybe to vent. Always to listen deeply and intentionally, with curiosity.
It takes practices. We need both analytical and strategic skills to combat rising authoritarianism, and spiritual/soul disciplines to keep our souls alive when everything feels deadened. Without these practices we are vulnerable to strategies that seek to bludgeon our empathy, imagination, and energy.
It takes new frameworks. We must invite in voices whose perspectives challenge and expand our understanding. Through public conversations—like my recent dialogue with Jennifer Harvey on ethics and religion, or my recent discussion with Clara Takarabe on music, neuroscience, and felt safety—we create spaces for transformative learning.
It takes narrative change. At Crossroads we have spent almost 40-years equipping people, communities, and institutions with counter narratives that challenge the dominant story of the U.S. We did this to help make clear the logics of domination that produce racism operate in intersectional ways. To this day we work equipping people to with shared language and analysis that reveal not just that we have a problem but that this problem is embedded in all manner of structures. I am proud of the work we do. But I am also clear we need to offer people more than just an understanding of a problem. We need to invite people into spaces of imagination, spaces where we dream of the world that lays just beyond the fog.
It takes courage. We must resist becoming what we fight against, holding fast to values that transform rather than destroy, refusing the temptation to dehumanize those with whom we disagree. We must speak up and speak out, but we cannot scapegoat individuals. Instead, we must name and challenge the forces and institutional actors that incite violence, legitimize cruelty, and drive us to sever our connections to each other. This will require we assess where we may be engaging strategies that further polarize rather that create paths forward toward social justice and seed depolarization.
It takes organizing. Real change demands collective action in all its forms—protest and dialogue, training and agitation—each one pushing us toward liberation for all people and our planet. We need visionary thinking that ensures our solutions create systemic transformation, not quick fixes. We need shared frameworks to analyze how power is weaponized to divide us, and tools to continuously assess and recalibrate our strategies. While some organizing must be public and direct, other forms of resistance will necessarily operate beneath the surface, disrupting systems from within.
Follow the Fog Line with Us
None of these elements are easy. None will clear the fog immediately. But together, they form our fog line—the steady guide that will see us through to the other side. At a time when so many are disinvesting, disengaging, and disconnecting from the work of systemic change, we need you to join us in the fog line.
We need your engagement.
Your participation makes our work real. Join us.
- Attend our digital and in-person gatherings and public conversations
- Participate in our training programs and workshops
- Engage in the difficult dialogues that bridge divides
- Share your own perspectives and learn from others
- Practice the spiritual/soul disciplines that keep our movement grounded
- Organize within your own communities and networks
We need your financial support.
For nearly four decades, Crossroads has guided people, communities, and institutions to find their fog line through uncertainty and crisis. Time and again, we have served as that steady white line for our clients and partners—the reliable guide that keeps them moving forward when they can’t see the path ahead.
Now, as toxic fog engulfs our democracy and our communities, that guidance has never been more critical. The road ahead feels uncertain, but we know how to navigate through it.
Your investment makes us stronger fog lines for more people. With your financial partnership and personal engagement, we can sustain our work and expand our reach—transforming what obstructs our collective vision into what nourishes our movement for justice.
Join us financially: Your contribution helps us build stronger communities, develop practical tools for navigating these times, amplify diverse voices, support local networks, train values-based institutional organizers, and create resources that nourish both strategic thinking and spiritual resilience.
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