Creativity as Resistance
The Power of Purpose and Creativity to Ignite Meaningful Change
In an age of political controversy, social protest, and global crises, it’s easy to feel like creative writing and works of intellectual imagination are luxuries—self-serving indulgences that have little place in serious social movements.
Even more, as an academic, the pressure to respond to urgent challenges can make it seem as though creativity is secondary to pragmatism, and that writing must be primarily about solving immediate problems rather than imagining new possibilities.
But history reminds us that the most transformative ideas often emerge not from rigid adherence to conventional wisdom, but from those willing to think beyond the immediate crisis and push the boundaries of what is possible.
This is why writing with purpose is crucial.
When we focus too much on the mechanics—the endless “how-to” discussions about method, structure, style, and outcome—we risk losing sight of the deeper question:
Why are we writing?
Clarifying our deeper purpose gives us the confidence to innovate rather than getting bogged down in technicalities. In this week’s newsletter, I explain why purpose matters for your writing and how writing with purpose can enhance your career.
Let’s dive in!
Learning from Douglass: Writing as a Call to Action
Your writing is not simply a means to advance your career.
It is a powerful tool for social change. Recently, in a powerful essay about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the legacy of critical patriotism in the United States, American Studies scholar Ben Railton shared a few insights about Frederick Douglass that clarified for me why writing with purpose is so important.
Frederick Douglass, in one of history’s most compelling calls to action, argued that in some circumstances, what is needed is not gentle persuasion or reasoned arguments that will be embraced by peers, but rather “scorching irony.”
This quote comes from Douglass’s speech “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” delivered on July 5, 1852, in Rochester, New York. Delivered just eight years before the Civil War, Douglass’s speech was set against the backdrop of a nation that had recently passed the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, compelling Northerners to return fugitive Black Americans to their Southern enslavers.
Presented to a predominantly White audience at a commemoration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Douglass seized the occasion to expose the glaring contradiction between the nation’s ideals of liberty and the brutal reality of African American enslavement.
Douglass proclaimed:
“At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. O! had I the ability, and could I reach the nation’s ear, I would, today, pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced.”
Douglass’s decision to use “scorching irony” rather than “convincing argument” was no accident. At the time, many abolitionists advocated for a gradual end to slavery, believing that reason and moral suasion could peacefully dismantle the institution. Douglass, however, recognized that gradualism would fail to spark meaningful change. His speech was a call to rouse the nation, especially White Americans, to the urgency of the struggle.
Today, we find ourselves facing our own storms: the privatization of higher education, the erosion of academic freedom, the diminishing value placed on the humanities, the systematic devaluation of Black history, and the mounting attacks on critical racial discourse. These threats, already pressing, have been exacerbated by global crises like climate change and widening economic inequality, which grow more urgent by the day.
Under President Donald Trump, these challenges are being exacerbated by rhetoric and policies that foster a climate of hostility toward education and scholarship that questions the very foundation of academia. From undermining the importance of diversity and inclusion to rolling back protections for marginalized communities, the Trump era emboldens forces that seek to dismantle the principles of knowledge, justice, and equality that we have long relied on in our institutions.
In such turbulent times, writing becomes more than a professional task—it is a vital act of resistance. Just as Douglass used his pen to challenge the injustices of his era, we must wield our words today as instruments of transformation.
Writing, in this sense, is not an academic exercise to simply check off a list on the road to tenure. It is a form of civic engagement, intellectual defiance, and a powerful force for change. It’s about preserving and advancing knowledge, advocating for justice, and confronting both national and global crises.
It is a tool that has the capacity to change the world.
Before we discuss why writing with purpose is critical for your productivity, I want to remind you:
If you’ve ever faced the pressure of feeling unprepared, you’re not alone. Many of us face these challenges, especially when balancing the demands of research, writing, and teaching.
In The Tenure Track, we strive to embrace the unpredictability of the academic journey, recognizing that growth happens through action, not perfection. It’s about adapting and learning as you go, rather than waiting for the perfect plan to start.
Ready to move forward with purpose and flexibility? Subscribe to The Tenure Track for strategies, inspiration, and insights that will help you break free from perfectionism, trust the process, and navigate the challenges of academia with resilience and adaptability.
The Purpose Behind the Prose
Writing with purpose doesn’t just make for compelling scholarship. It also transforms how our brains engage with the task itself.
Neuroscience shows that when we have a strong sense of purpose, our brains activate the prefrontal cortex more effectively, allowing for deeper focus, higher cognitive flexibility, and increased resilience in the face of difficulty. In other words, when we write with conviction, our minds are better equipped to navigate complexity, make connections, and sustain motivation.
This means that when we write from a place of purpose:
Our research questions become bolder, challenging established paradigms rather than merely extending them.
Our methodologies serve our mission rather than constraining our inquiry, enhancing our scholarly agenda.
Our conclusions dare to imagine new possibilities rather than merely documenting what is, enriching our intellectual findings.
Our writing speaks not just to our peers but to a broader audience about who we are and who we might become, extending our reach and impact.
Writing with purpose also reduces cognitive overload. Research on decision fatigue suggests that when we fixate on the “how” too soon, we exhaust mental energy on secondary concerns instead of focusing on the core message.
Psychologist Barry Schwartz describes this as the “Paradox of Choice”—while more options theoretically lead to better outcomes, they also create greater anxiety, indecision, and dissatisfaction. This aligns with findings from cognitive science that distinguish between two kinds of decision-makers:
satisficers, those who focus on finding a solution that meets their needs and move forward, and
maximizers, those who feel compelled to explore every possible alternative in pursuit of the absolute best choice.
Studies show that maximizers tend to experience more anxiety, regret, and dissatisfaction—patterns that can easily manifest in the writing process. The more we agonize over crafting the “perfect” sentence or structuring the “ideal” argument, the more we risk stagnation.
But when we prioritize the “why,” we streamline cognitive effort, making the writing process more efficient and meaningful.
From Theory to Practice: Writing with Purpose
I hope you’re beginning to see that a clear purpose doesn’t just shape our ideas. It reshapes how our brains process information and engage in storytelling.
Studies in cognitive psychology reveal that storytelling enhances memory retention and comprehension, making it easier for both writer and reader to engage with complex ideas. This is why some of the most influential academic works are not just well-argued, but also deeply compelling narratives. Indeed, the best academic books are the ones that tell a great story.
Neuroscience also reveals that when people focus on meaning-driven tasks—those connected to their core values—they activate neural pathways associated with intrinsic motivation, fostering greater perseverance and creativity.
This reinforces an important truth: writing that moves audiences, sparks new ways of thinking, and influences change is rarely the product of exhaustive tinkering over form alone. It is the result of anchoring one’s work in a deeper purpose, trusting that clarity and refinement will follow in due time.
Consider these questions as you approach your next writing project:
What fundamental truth or change am I pursuing through this work?
Who needs to hear this message, and why does it matter now?
How might this work contribute to broader conversations beyond my immediate field?
What would be lost if this work remained unwritten?
When we ground our writing in these types of questions, we tap into the brain’s intrinsic motivation systems—those same systems that drive curiosity, perseverance, and creativity.
Studies on intrinsic motivation show that when people pursue tasks connected to their core values and interests, their brains release more dopamine, reinforcing persistence and engagement. The result?
A writing process that feels less like an uphill battle and more like an intellectually engaging pursuit of something meaningful.
A Call to Action
The page is your battlefield, your laboratory, your sanctuary.
Whether you’re crafting a manuscript, developing a framework, or documenting findings, remember that your words can challenge entrenched thinking, illuminate overlooked connections, give voice to marginalized perspectives, and catalyze change.
The temptation to wait until everything feels perfect is common. We often want to be fully prepared before acting. But that’s a trap. The work you’re meant to do won’t wait for you to feel “ready.”
Start before you feel ready. Embrace uncertainty and trust that your current knowledge, tools, and insights are enough to move forward.
You don’t need perfect conditions to begin. Sometimes action sparks the clarity you seek. The journey of creation is messy, but through it, your ideas will evolve.
Write boldly, write purposefully, write unapologetically.
Your words matter—not just for creating new knowledge, but for reshaping the world. Writing with purpose amplifies voices, challenges assumptions, and shapes conversations beyond academia.
As we enter the second month of 2025, we’ll explore how to amplify your purpose through intentional communication—ensuring your ideas have impact and inspire others.
Writing with intention is just the first step. Next week, we will begin our focus on how to communicate your ideas effectively and contribute to the change we seek.
Becoming Full,
P.S. As always, thank you for reading this week’s issue of The Tenure Track. If you found this article helpful, I encourage you to share it with a colleague or friend who might benefit from these insights. Together, let’s continue to build a supportive and creative academic community.
That’s what Toni Morrison said too. Joy is resistance too.