Rest is Revolutionary: Reclaiming Our Humanity in a Burnout Culture

We live in a world where exhaustion is worn like a badge of honour. Where people humble-brag about how little they sleep, how much they produce, how they are too busy to feel. Where rest is treated as an indulgence rather than an act of survival. But I refuse to accept this. And I hope you do too.

Rest is not a luxury—it is a form of resistance.

In a society that conditions us to equate our worth with our output, choosing to rest is a radical act of self-preservation. It is an assertion of your right to exist beyond what you can produce. Every time you close your eyes and let your body breathe, you are refusing to be a machine. You are reclaiming your humanity.

The systems we live under—capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy—were not designed for our well-being. They thrive on our exhaustion. They function by keeping us too tired to think, too drained to resist, too burnt out to imagine a different world.

But imagine: what if rest was not just personal, but political? What if our healing was an act of collective rebellion? What if, instead of glorifying overwork, we centered rest as a practice of liberation?

Rest is more than just sleep. It is stepping away from the pressure to be constantly available, constantly productive, constantly striving. It is allowing yourself space to simply be—to breathe, to reflect, to listen to your own rhythms. And that, in itself, is revolutionary.

But rest is not always easy. Many of us have been taught that slowing down is failure, that exhaustion is proof of our dedication. We have internalized the idea that being busy means being worthy. And so, even when we have the opportunity to rest, we resist it. We fill our schedules to the brim, we convince ourselves that we’ll rest “when everything is done,” forgetting that in this culture, the work is never done.

What would happen if we let go of the myth of productivity as morality? If we stopped defining ourselves by how much we accomplish? If we made rest a daily, intentional practice rather than a last resort?

When you rest, you are not just caring for yourself. You are refusing to participate in a culture that demands your depletion. You are choosing softness in a world that wants you hardened. You are choosing slowness in a world that wants you rushed. You are choosing to matter—to yourself, to your body, to your spirit—outside of what you can achieve.

They will try to convince you that rest is selfish. That slowing down is laziness. That you need to keep pushing. That you are only as valuable as what you can produce. But the truth is: a rested person is a dangerous person. A rested person remembers their dreams. A rested person remembers their power.

A rested person has the energy to imagine new systems, to challenge harmful narratives, to disrupt the cycles of burnout that keep us disconnected from ourselves and each other. A rested person is a person who cannot be controlled by exhaustion, who refuses to be manipulated by the fear of not doing enough.

So take the nap. Close the laptop. Say no. Breathe deep.

Rest, because the world will not give it to you freely. Rest, because your body is not a machine. Rest, because you deserve to be whole.

And in your resting, you just might help create a world where we all can be.