Hope: The Rebel Force That Refuses to Quit

Hope has terrible PR. It often gets filed under “soft” or “fluffy,” somewhere between scented candles and inspirational fridge magnets. But don’t let the glitter fool you—hope is gritty.

It’s a psychological power tool, not a personality trait. And when life hits hard (which, let’s face it, it often does), hope is the voice in your head whispering, “Plot twist!” instead of “Game over.”

Hope isn’t just blind optimism or wishful thinking. According to hope theory (yep, it’s a thing), psychologist Charles Snyder defined hope as the combination of:

1. Agency – the belief I can do this,
2. Pathways thinking – the ability to figure out how to do this, even if Plan A blows up.

So, hope is less about crossing your fingers and more about rolling up your sleeves. It’s knowing there’s more than one way through—and that you can find it.

Culture Has Always Known This

From Ted Lasso’s “Believe” sign to the rebel yell of Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games—“Hope is the only thing stronger than fear”—popular culture gets it. Hope is often cast as the underdog, the one who shouldn’t win but somehow does. It’s Frodo carrying the ring, or Luke Skywalker facing down the Empire. Hope doesn’t arrive with a cape and theme song. It usually shows up tired, late, and a little singed—but it shows up.

Even ancient myths told us this. When Pandora opened her jar and let chaos loose into the world, the one thing left inside was Elpis—hope. The Greeks argued about whether that was a good or bad thing (classic philosophers), but still—hope endured.

Hope Is Contagious (In a Good Way)

Research shows that hope is not only powerful, it’s also contagious. In workplaces, classrooms, and families, hopeful leaders and mentors lift everyone around them. Hope helps people persist through setbacks, take risks, and problem-solve more creatively. It predicts better academic outcomes, improved physical health, and even lower levels of anxiety and depression.

And here’s the kicker: hope can be learned.

You don’t need to be born a sparkly-eyed unicorn to be hopeful. Hope grows through practice—just like a muscle or your ability to make awkward small talk at networking events.

Try This: Micro-Hope Practices

Let’s ditch the big, pressure-filled goals for a second. Hope lives in the little things. Try this:

• Shrink the horizon: Ask, What’s one small step I could take today toward what matters to me? Then take it.
• Make multiple plans: If Plan A fails, you’re not out of options—you’re just warming up. (Plan B: Snacks. Plan C: Cry. Plan D: Try again.)
• Borrow hope: When you’re running low, talk to someone who has a little more in their tank. Hope shared is hope grown.
• Name your why: Even if the “how” is foggy, holding on to why you care keeps your compass pointed in the right direction.

Seriously Hopeful

Let’s be honest. Some days, hope feels more like a flat battery than a firework. That’s okay. Hope doesn’t mean ignoring the pain—it means keeping the door open for something new to emerge, even if it hasn’t knocked yet.

So go ahead: roll your eyes at the motivational posters. But also let yourself hope. Hope is rebellious. It’s resilient. It’s the stubborn belief that better is possible—and that you might just have a part to play in creating it.

As poet Emily Dickinson wrote:

But let’s be clear—this bird?
It’s got claws.
And it’s not leaving any time soon.