Yes! Check out the latest #poll results from the #Kansas #primary! @shariceforcongress is on top in #district3 ... yes! #NativeWins #WorldIndigenousPeoplesDay #ShariceDavids #LGBTQ #gay #instagay #yass #ionahraqs

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Yes! Check out the latest #poll results from the #Kansas #primary! @shariceforcongress is on top in #district3 ... yes! #NativeWins #WorldIndigenousPeoplesDay #ShariceDavids #LGBTQ #gay #instagay #yass #ionahraqs
It was this time last year that I was having coffee and scrolling through my news feed to stumble upon my friend Jenny’s post. I had seen her earlier in the week. We both cried and talked about how awful things were. She wasn’t OK. I knew that. I also wasn’t OK, but when we chatted on the phone later in the week, she seemed better. I was surprised, then, to see what appeared to be a suicide note on FB and every part of me hoped it was an ask for help. I ran to her apartment as fast as I could--still in my PJs. She wasn’t there, but who later showed up later were a dozen loved ones of hers across the country (quite literally) who I connected with that day in an effort to find her and since then I have remained in close touch with many of them. In her passing, this is one of the vast gifts she has left. She told us the “white supremacist capitalist patriarchy-it is a killer.” She deserves to be here taking up every bit of space that she can. I said this as I had the honor of co-presenting (with a dear friend who wrote and recited the most gut-wrenching and beautiful poetry) the LGBT Resource Center Social Justice Award, granted posthumously to Jenny. She should have gotten this years ago, when she was alive. This world has to do better by people like Jenny because she and all marginalized folks deserve to be out here living their best lives. I can respect that she now is, in her own way, under a killer system, but I hope her legacy can be that of persistent resistance, love, and liberation. Because that’s what she was about. She fought because she loved all marginalized folks. Because Jenny...aka Lovely...she loved herself, too. She loved herself despite a world that didn’t love her back, but I see y’all who did and I love you, too. So here’s to that legacy of love, resistance, liberation, and celebration and some of my favorite photos of her doing just that: hiking, Halloween, dancing together, the Ithaca BLM rally together, and (of course) the photo she wanted to us to use in the event of her untimely demise by fascists. #SayHerName #JennyKeys #Lovely #ForTheLoveOfLovely #WhoWillCryForTheLittleBlackGirl #ICryForHerEveryDay #NowItIsTimeToWork #ResistanceIsLove
Found this in the bucket of crayons used for #arttherapy in my treatment program. Y’all can call me this now. 😂 #RadicalRed #MulipleMeanings #doubleentendre #anticapitalist #smashcapitalismforrecovery #decolonizeforrecovery #eatingdisorder #edrecovery #recoveryisresistance #ionahraqs
A World We Want to Live In
Content/trigger warning: talk of suicide/Native suicide rates in particular
I didn’t enter into the conversations about Anthony Bourdain mostly because I haven’t been as active on social media/my blog since I was in the hospital and because I am still in early stages of trying to achieve remission from chronic, long-term anorexia. I also struggle to conjure up much emotion over certain celebrity deaths--which is not to say others shouldn’t have emotion about it and I respect and cherish hearing others’ experiences. That is all valid and the hurt from folks struggling with mental illness and suicidal ideation triggered by this is real real real.
But I saw a meme the other day that struck me--it said that getting mental health help is not enough and that “we live in a world where people don’t want to live in it anymore. We need to change the world.” I couldn’t agree more and, for many of us, not just Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain and rich folk like them, this world has often been a world in which we have tried to be OK living. Not because it isn’t beautiful and joyous, but because some of us with more marginalized identities have been barred from liberally accessing that beauty and joy without reproach, without limits, without the threat of violence and repression and shame. And many of these folks have been suiciding. For a long time.
A few years ago, after a uranium spill and other industrial chemicals contaminated the water of many Diné (Navajo) on the Navajo reservation, suicide rates (already highest among Natives) dramatically climbed. A mental health professional that I knew speculated that perhaps these two incidents were correlated and said that the river that was mostly impacted may have been sacred to the Diné. Sure. I mean in the way all water is sacred because without clean water...we die...I guess, yeah, you could say it was sacred. But perhaps the increased suicide rate was due to an already water-depleted region impacted by a legacy of colonialism, colonization, and genocide that created abject poverty (in some but of course not all cases) generated a lot of hopelessness. And then, of course, perhaps the suicide rate increased because--on top of all that--these legacies destroyed the last source of clean water.
I also think now of my dear friend Jenny (aka Lovely), as the anniversary of her suicide sadly approaches, who told us the white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchy is killer. It is. She warned us last year. High rates of suicides among Native folks for decades have tried to warn us. High rates of depression and suicide among others with marginalized identities have warned us. Many of us paid attention even though modern mainstream healthcare and media have not. So I hope we can pay attention now and learn to recognize that as we work to create a world that we want to live in, we work to create a world where everybody wants to live in it--not just white folks, middle-class and rich folks, straight and cis folks, non-Native folks, able-bodied folks, folks with documented immigrant/U.S.-citizen status...no for all of us. And we cannot do that if we keep doing what we have been doing, which is ignoring and violently silencing Indigenous folks while simultaneously co-opting and bastardizing Native cultures and spirituality for non-Native gain, by ignoring black and other women of color, by categorizing “good” versus “bad” undocumented folks, by allowing sexism and misogyny and especially misogynoir and transmisogyny to go unchecked--especially when it seems casually sexist or just a joke. That leads to violence. That leads to creating a world people don’t want to live in anymore.
I want my people here. We deserve to be here. Taking up space. Lots and lots of space until those who would profit and benefit from our misery can no longer occupy that space. I’m here to help take up a bit of that space. And so grateful to those also taking up space in that way and doing the hard work to take care of our and their communities and create pockets and safe havens and places in this world where we can be free and thus be ready to wake up each new day in a world we slowly create in little ways that is a world we can all live in.
Love is an Action Word
I am seeing a lot of white folks sharing videos, memes, and suggestions made by white folks on how to deal with the KKK, but last time I checked, the KKK was not targeting white folks. They were targeting people of color—and black and/or Muslim folks in particular. So I am not sure why we are taking the lead and suggestions of a white folks—many with pretty casually or overtly racist and/or culturally appropriative reputations at that—on how to deal with the KKK?
Folks, why aren’t we taking the lead from people of color? It’s our problem. White supremacy and racism are our problem as white folks and white-passing folks who benefit from white privilege, but that doesn’t mean we take the lead on this movement. That should be pretty obvious actually.
Also there are a multitude of tactics to take down the white supremacist Nazi KKK. Because capitalism relies on white supremacy and whiteness amassed its wealth on the theft of black and Indigenous and other people of color, putting our money toward black and Indigenous folks is a good thing, but certainly doing that and burying our head in our hands and not dealing with racism around us when we see it is not OK. Love is an action word. It requires we take action. Sending love from our hearts into the universe is not going to be enough to defeat the Nazi KKK. Worrying about how the media will portray us is not picking a side. The media will likely portray us badly. History will portray those who do nothing even worse. Are we really so concerned with how the media will portray us over the lives of people of color? Really!?
This is “a which side are you on?” moment. Pick. A. Dang. Side. And make sure it’s the one where you do SOMETHING—you use YOUR skills to fight racism. That—that is love in action. Cannot punch a Nazi? No problem. Not everyone is capable of throwing a punch, but a) don’t knock the people who are literally defending against the vile and hateful actions of the KKK whose main goal is violence against POC and b) look for what you CAN do without knocking the strategies of others. Because we need all of us in this fight to use the skills we possess. No matter how we fight, the conservative and moderate AND liberal media—all of them—are tied to a capitalist regime which will be hell bent on preserving white supremacy. It is insidious in the liberal media and outright in other media outlets. Since when do we believe everything the CORPORATE media tells us, anyway? Why are we believing corporate-sponsored pieces rather than the words of folks actually experiencing and living the reality they share with us every dang day? And again, when is our media reputation more important than defeating the fricking KKK!?
So donate your money to black, Indigenous, and Muslim communities—particularly to women, femmes, trans folks, and folks with disabilities. Put money back into the communities that have been robbed by white supremacy. Stop praising white leaders and organizations for doing the bare minimum and too late, at that. Starting following the lead of POC—black, Native, and Muslim women and femmes in particular. Stop shaming people and REALLLY stop with using MLK to try to critique and shame black folks about movement tactics. Stop telling people not to go to counter-rallies. Counter-rallies curtail the space white supremacists can take up. The more space they are allowed to take up, the more they will take up. We have been seeing this—ignoring them has made them stronger. They beat a man in Charlottesville. We need folks there to help. If you cannot make it, that is OK. If you cannot punch a Nazi, that’s OK. Plenty of people cannot attend rallies and we also need to not shame them for that, but you can spread the word about the counter-rally. Send friends or other supporters to the counter-rally. Materially and/or emotionally support those who can make it. Ask organizers how you can help. Disrupt racism when you see it. Call out jokes. Call out subtle racism like “well if they just….” or anything that centers whiteness as the norm. Call. It. Out. Organize. Support workers of color and undocumented workers. Film police when you see them interacting with black folks. Put your love into action with the skills you do have. Write…but always credit your knowledge because all of this above and learning how to eradicate racism—this came from POC who experience it. If you have read to this point, please consider and/or otherwise materially support any of the black and Indigenous women and femmes in the comment sections below who do amazing work on the regular and rarely get paid for that work nor are they recognized for it…thank you to them and to all my friends and family of color—love and light <3
Didi Delgado: www.paypal.me/omgitsdididelgado
Camilla: www.paypal.me/TrevetteC
Red Fawn Fallis: https://www.generosity.com/fundraising/red-fawn-legal-fund
Workers Center of CNY: https://workerscny.org/civicrm/?page=CiviCRM&q=civicrm/contribute/transact&reset=1&id=3
Safety Pin Box: https://www.safetypinbox.com/black-women-being/
Black Trans Women and Femmes in Los Angeles: https://www.patreon.com/BlackTransWomenAndFemmesFund
Who Speaks for me and Taylar:
PayPal.me/TaylarN
https://www.gofundme.com/who-speaks-for-me-project
Our Liberation will be not be Found Stepping on the Backs of Others
Capitalism requires competition and specifically a kind of competition where only the things that those who hold power deem valuable actually win. Given that capitalism values and supports white supremacy and patriarchal norms, that capitalism rewards whiteness, Euro-centric/white-centric culture, hyper-masculinity/maleness, heteronormativity, cisnormativity, able-bodiedness, Christianity ... those are the things that win regardless of who is performing those things (though let us not kid ourselves and still remind that those who win tend most often to be able-bodied, rich-white cis-het men)[i]
So our liberation is not tied to whether or not we can compete and win because to compete means we have to become or mimic some of these traits in order for capitalism to reward us. Because to win means someone has to lose and that which loses are the viewpoints and people that are not white supremacist, patriarchal, heteronormative … I think you get the point.
Women—rich women and white women and especially rich, white women: stepping on the backs of your sisters and femme siblings is not feminism and it is not your liberation, it just means that you have fought for your right to be the oppressor rather than the oppressed instead of fighting to eradicate oppression for all.
White gay men: please do not step on those of us you deem too queer, too colorful, too limited in your understanding of queerness (is me being a femme-presenting lesbian confusing and less valid to you?) in order to celebrate your pride and have your gay marriage. Do not co-opt culture from queer black folks you then gain privilege over because of your whiteness and maleness and masculinity...
Folks with disabilities: the “just do it” slogan is a slogan for Nike, a company that has engaged in vast labor abuses including the propagation of child labor through the exploitation of black and brown kids the world over.[ii] It is awe-inspiring when people “overcome” their disabilities to achieve great success in dance despite their challenges, but the fact remains that those of us with disabilities—physical or otherwise—have vastly valuable contributions to make outside of competing in this specific way that is always overlooked or tossed to the side if it does not fit the ideal of what “wins” under capitalism.
Working-class folks: and this is so, so hard especially because capitalism makes us have to scramble to literally survive and earn a living wage:[iii] we certainly all deserve to have enough to survive, but the mass scramble to climb over one another to the top will not liberate us; most of us won’t make it; some of us might make it partway; and those who do make it leave literally a wake of cash poor and starving bodies in their wake that are criminalized, exploited, killed, or starved out. We have to stop asking for pennies on the dollar and instead working together to remember our collective worth and fight together---not just for ourselves to have a slice of the pie—but to smash the pie altogether and make a new dessert—one that everyone makes and everyone enjoys and no one is allergic to... admittedly my analogies now may be running away from me, but I think the point is understood. PS--this is collective bargaining, something workers’ centers and radical unions have engaged in for a long time.
Competition will not save us under capitalism; it may be tempting and certainly we all have to stay alive in order to be there to fight with and for one another, but assimilation, competition, and stepping on one another is not only grossly violent, it will not save us, either. We will be lost.
In love and solidarity, let us fight this together to win.
[i] As language is constantly developing, please do feel free to google terms that are unclear or new, but cis-het refers to cis gender (i.e. folks who are and feel aligned to the gender that they were assigned at birth) and het refers to heterosexual, though more commonly called straight when not abbreviated in this way.
[ii] An example of Nike’s abuses; it has rebranded its image, but never forget that it made its fortune this way and has to repay the workers’ wages that it stole.
[iii] The concept that there is an argument over a living wage should be the most obvious sign of the crisis of capitalism—to deny someone a living wage is to deny someone the ability to live. We are essentially saying that one’s inability to get a job that rich, white men have determined the value of to boot, means they do not deserve to be living.
Dance Education is not just in the Studio
Dance education does not take place in the studio and stage alone. It is not simply about your body and movement and technique—not even simply about the music, either, at least not without context. No, good dancers—perhaps great dancers—are not great not simply because of their technique, or (to paraphrase Martha Graham) even simply because of their passion. They are great when they embody all that there is in life that they must portray in their performances. Dance without heart is just mechanics. Dance without the full embodiment of life is nothing. Yolanda Broyles-Gonzalez’s research on El Teatro Campesino and the Mexican carpa tradition of performance art embodies this concept, so it is to her work—and the work of a woman of color and Middle Eastern and North African dancers—that I owe this knowledge about dance and dance education. I cannot simply be a good dancer by practicing in the studio day and night. No if I forget also to live, to work, to labor, to toil (not that I have a choice not to under capitalism—but that is part of my point), to love, to care for and be cared for, to tell my story through my movement, then I will be an empty actor. As Broyles-Gonzalez reminds, performance art by elites is often shallow, appropriative, and not as rich; sure maybe the external display of technique and tricks may be exciting because they have ample time to perfect that, but if that is the only way that they labor, then they miss the full embodiment of what it means to be a performer—a dancer—someone who truly connects with the audience.
Dance—all performance art—does not exist in vacuums. This remains true then, of course, for Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) dance styles. As American dancers—specifically as American dancers who are not of MENA descent—specifically as white dancers—we cannot become good dancers without this being a part of our education; living not just the movements we learn in the studio and practice in the studio and on the stage, but also to immerse in what ways we can to endeavor to understand the music, culture and cultural context, styles, history, verbiage, and how U.S. imperialism has impacted the regions in which our dance situated. If we are not embodying that for MENA audiences, we are just mechanics on the stage. Appropriative and shallow. For working-class and cash poor dancers this can pose a bigger challenge, but also that does not excuse that cash poor and working-class folks from or with cultural connections to the countries of origin of MENA style dance have also experienced inaccessibility to the very culture they have created due to U.S. imperialist and capitalist co-option of cash poor-working-class cultural creations. You can do it. Just show up and listen. And, as Lebanese Simon said a couple of weekends ago, give back to the culture. If you have been invited to participate that is fantastic and so do not think you are the only one who can elevate this art, that your way is innovative or modern and everything else is just “traditional.” Learn and give back to the best of your ability and in that learning, remember that not all of the learning is in the studio or the stage <3
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Capitalism Destroys our Peace
The weather is getting warmer and on these sunny days, it is so nice to be outside even for a short while. I can already start to feel the depression of winter lifting...but it is coupled with a strange sensation ...
I have been in training for work the past two days and have had the opportunity to walk outside during lunch; I don't often take a lunch break because, well capitalism often places demands on us to eat while we work, but it was so freeing...for a moment. It was freeing until I walked by Planned Parenthood and saw the protest signs etched into the sidewalk with chalk and proclaiming the racist "all lives matter" slogan to prohibit liberation for both reproductive justice as well as black folks and other folks of color. Moments before, I crossed the street as a guy on a bike shouted something at me, two men across the street did, too, a person who was presumably a straight cis man honked at me from his car as he drove by, and everyone I passed stared. It would have mattered little if I walked down the street in a dance costume, a bikini, or the pants and short-sleeve blouse I was wearing for a workday; I would get the same onlookers the same. Capitalist-patriarchy would have us believe this is flattering, but frankly it was a large-scale invasion of my very brief moment of reprieve and left me on edge, wondering if one of them might be the one who would get aggressive as many cis men have been known to do to women who do or do not reject their advances.
And so while the depression lifted, summer brings with in a new sense of emotion: anxiety and restlessness because there is always something to disturb the very few moments of peace we as workers get under capitalism. I still stayed outside; I will not be kept inside all summer to avoid these moments. If others can do it, so can I and so while I write this, I want to remind that which black feminists and other black activists also discuss; black women face street harassment, as well, and all black folks face that from (un)law(ful) enforcement as well as the general population.
Capitalism opens up a break in the winter for folks to enjoy the outdoors, only for police to more heavily patrol cash poor black and brown neighborhoods, criminalize black activity and people, and harass black women and femmes. Just this past month alone, as summer started to break along the east and west and mid coasts, black children have been gunned down in the street. First Jordan Edwards in Texas, then Jayson Negron in Connecticut, and most recently this past week Darius Smith in California. Children. This is white supremacist capitalism meant to instill fear into and submit social control over people and while my experience in no way is comparable, I recognize that if I want liberation to walk down the street, I must demand it first for those who often face the most significant consequences for the same behavior: black children, black women, black femmes, black trans folks, all cash poor and working-class black people, Native folks… Capitalism takes this away from all of us by concentrating power (to and among white, cis men, thus the reliance on white supremacy and the patriarchy). I am not interested in all that. I am not interested in experiencing street harassment on the regular, which can quickly turn violent and is generally dehumanizing, but I am really beyond words disgusted with a foul world that would allow black folks to be killed by (un)law(enforcement) with impunity. This all needs to end now.
#streetharassment #blackkidsmatter #mentalhealth #summer #liberation #anticapitalist #smashthepatriarchy #smashracism #myliberationisboundwithblackliberation
This past week (give/take) in It Feels Like the World is Ending news…
This past week (give/take) in It Feels Like the World is Ending news…
Jordan Edwards, a young black boy is killed by the police and his family and friends are witness to and reprimanded/jailed after this tragedy.
The DOJ lets Alton Sterling’s killer walk. Yes also they charge a woman for resisting racist Jeff Sessions.
A police officer is shown assaulting a black teen on camera in a school outside Pittsburgh, PA. He takes the teen out of sight of security cameras to hide his heinous, racist, violent, vile, disgusting actions. Social media response asks not why the cop is not being reprimanded for abusing and assaulting a minor but what the teen did to deserve this…
Chay Reed, a black trans woman is killed in Miami. She is the ninth trans woman of color to be killed this year. The ninth. Trans woman off color. To be killed. This Year. That is like one every other week. Literally.
ICE came into Ithaca—the little “progressive” haven of Ithaca we love so much—a sanctuary city—and detained Jose Lopez Guzman, an undocumented individual living in Ithaca. People still debate those who should stay and those who should leave a place that was once always Indigenous and on which borders were constructed to concentrate power among rich white men.
Cheeto-Monster rolls back rights (for which the fight was not over to begin with) for LGBTQ folks and the House guts the neoliberal ACA.
Also Cinco de Mayo is approaching and so basically people are going to love on some corporatized, white-washed version of Mexican culture for profit while actual Mexican/Chicanx folks experience some large-scale worker rights abuses, massive systemic and interpersonal racism, and the possibility of communities and families ripped apart by Cheeto Monster’s border wall and ICE raids.
A lot is crappy right now. I got all sorts of worries. As a working-class queer woman with a mental health disability and resulting physical health ailments, I already struggle under this neoliberal agenda that tries to demand I adhere to its principles. I was not having it before and I am not having it now. Nahhhhhhhhh.
These rollbacks to LGBTQ rights—let us remember they will first impact trans women of color. Let us remember that gay marriage was not the last stop on the line on this fight for justice and that the fight has still been going on for some time. These rollbacks will impact cash poor and working-class folks the most because they/we have fewer employment protections. Let us remember that the healthcare repeal and replace plan is going to kill people—but not everyone all at once. No some will fare better and some fare worse than others. Racism and capitalism (which create poverty by design) leave a lot of cash poor/working-class folks of color (and cash poor/working-class white folks) without access to quality food (let alone the ability to afford that food… let alone have time to prepare that food ...) This is just one small example of many of how racism and capitalism impact health.
So why is this all important to remember? It is important because when we white folks say we feel the world is ending we can kind of ignore what is actually happening and the lived realities of people while we sit back and watch and pretend we are allies and say “the world is ending—Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” When we examine climate change and say, “well geez the world is going to end anyway,” we ignore the fact that for some folks/some of us, the world has been seeming like that for a very long time and those folks/we have not given up. For many communities of color—like the Diné and black folks in Flint and Palestinians and so many others—that level of environmental destruction we think will happen in decades HAS ALREADY HAPPENED/IS ALREADY HAPPENING! But through all that there is such resilience. Folks are being resilient and resistive in so many creative ways relearning languages, redefining culture, creating art and stories, developing community—and through all of that is resistance and something new. So no. The world? It is not ending right now. Right now we are fighting for liberation.
It is crappy, crappy, crappy right now I am not going to lie. So I do not begrudge a person who needs to throw up their hands in despair and retreat for a minute. Do that. I am—I can barely write this right here let me tell you. But for those with relative privilege—my white cousins and friends out there, I am looking at us—can we just not? Can we not make this our excuse for not showing up? Because the world is not ending for all of us at the same rate. It really is not. And saying that ignores and centers our feelings when people have been doing some pretty resilient stuff for a long time living under and fighting back against the things that are just coming into view to those of us who have ignored them far, far too long. And we demand that emotional labor from those who have known this oppression and who also have been pretty much saving the rest of us by resisting this shi*t for so long. So much love to all those putting out that emotional and intellectual and spiritual and physical labor. The world sure does feel like it is ending. But I am sending out all the love I can muster to my queer community—especially my queer femme community and my friends and fam of color—sending out love to my working-class community even though a lot of us white working-class folks really need to get out of our dang way and remember we have been lied to for scraps of privilege, and lots of love out to all my friends and fam of color.
Honoring Jamie Lee Crooked Arrow on Trans Day of Visibility
Yesterday was Transgender Day of Visibility. As someone who is not trans—I am a queer cis woman—I only want to add my voice to uplift those of trans folks—particularly trans women and femmes of color—whose voices are often only lifted when they are gone. Nine trans women have been murdered this year so far—at least nine. This is only the reported number of trans women killed this year as, in many cases, the homicide victims are misgendered or their lives unknown. Late last year, our community lost a trans woman—a black trans woman—to suicide, which when trans lives are pushed to the margins, is still part of the structural violence against trans women. Of the women killed this year, the majority have been women of color—particularly black and Native.
It is the life of Jamie Lee Crooked Arrow that I want to highlight here. The second trans women of color to be killed in 2017, Crooked Arrow was a Two Spirit trans woman who was an Oglala Lakota woman originally from Pine Ridge[i]. I remember when I read of her death that my heart broke. I did not know her, but she was a Native Two Spirit woman and so my heart fell into pieces mourning for her.
The lives of Native folks are made to be invisible. They are erased from memory such that, to dominant white society, Indigenous folks are but a relic of history, which makes white folks feel capable of bastardizing their name and image in culturally appropriative sports mascots, clothing and accessories, and for-profit New Age-style spiritual practices. As Sherman Alexie, a Spokane writer, noted in his poem The Great American Indian Novel, “In the Great American Indian novel, when it is finally written, all of the white people will be Indians and all of the Indians will be ghosts.[ii]” This erasure of Indigenous people is vital to the perpetuation of the myth of the American dream and American Exceptionalism; were the United States and those who support it to confront the realities of historical and present-day genocide of people of color—particularly black and Indigenous people—it would uproot all concepts of some glorious free, democratic past; of any egalitarian underpinnings of the founding fathers; and of the very foundation of the accumulated wealth and concentrated power in this country, which was earned on the backs of the genocide of Native people and theft of their lands and the enslavement and criminalization of black folks. It would also underscore that the issues of racism today are not merely in the hearts and minds of racist folks (which they are), but also in the very institutions that continue to shroud these old myths that America is the beacon of freedom and democracy when, in reality, the U.S. has always and continues to wield colonial and imperialist power against black and brown folks—and poor black and brown women and femmes in particular. Kelly Hayes, a Native organizer, activist, and writer based in Chicago, talks about the how and why of the invisibility of Native folks’ experience from media and the dominant U.S. narrative in the video of her speech from the Women’s March (1/21/17) in Chicago, IL:
“One of the greatest things that we are up against as Native people is that we are unseen. Native people are more likely than any other group in the United States to be killed by law enforcement...Who here can name a Native person that was killed by law enforcement? Go ahead, yell it out…And I'm not coming down on those of you who [can’t name someone]. This isn't about you being a bad person who doesn't care about the right things. You are not meant to see us die. We were meant to suffer in silence and disappear because American mythology, the myth of American exceptionalism doesn't exist when you have to factor in all the terrible things that have been done to my people, that are being done to my people. Black exploitation on the other hand is performed in public, for a reason. Because whether it's a postcard of a lynching, or a YouTube video, or a person left hanging in a tree there is a lesson. It is an attempt at social control. It's about keeping people in their place because this country could not function without the financial exploitation of Black people, and never could have. To change that we have to upend everything.[iii]”
This effort to make Native folks invisible is not dissimilar to the ways our society attempts to make trans women invisible through misgendering, rendering to the margins, or through more overt acts of violence (that also then do not even receive as much attention as violence against cis women and particularly cis white women or other cis white folks)[iv]. That is perhaps why I was dealt a blow when I heard of Crooked Arrow’s death.
In Pine Ridge, where she is originally from, suicide rates are some of the highest in North America, unemployment and alcoholism hover around 80-90%, and domestic violence and sexual assault against Native women and Two Spirit people is especially high (in a 2016 U.S. Department of Justice study, nearly 60% of Native women reported experiencing sexual violence and nearly 85% have experienced some kind of violence in their lifetime). The average household income in Pine Ridge hovers around $5,000 a year, average life expectancy is about 50, and many live with multiple families per household—the houses not equipped with running water, electricity, or indoor facilities. These issues exist only because of widespread, systemic white supremacist colonization that has rendered jobs, housing, and the means to obtain a livelihood less valuable and less easily attainable for Native folks. We do not hear of this, though, do we? This is erased in our pursuit of American myth and mythology. This is where Jamie Lee Crooked Arrow is from. This is where her Two Spirit identity may have started, in the resilience of life the Lakota way—the Indigenous way—not the way of white folks. Because despite these statistics, the beauty, joy, and resilient strength of Indigenous people is why Native people are still here, fighting colonization, climate change, sexual violence, and the gender binary (among many other things)[v].
This is what Native people have said and known all along.
Two Spirit identities have been and are alive and thriving in Native communities[vi]. They have been under attack as a result of widespread white colonization and the need to force gender binaries for a profitable division of labor and a concentration of power, but these gender identities are important to recognize to begin to make visible the structural (and tangible) violence committed against Native communities and to reverse the invisibalization of Native communities and identities.
So as we honor trans women and other trans folks and gender diverse people on Transgender Day of Visibility, let us ground that in recognizing how colonization and white supremacy have played a hand in erasing trans identities—and particularly Two Spirit identities—and in celebrating that Jamie Lee Crooked Arrow lived this identity, was loved and was loving, was living her identity as a resilient Two Spirit Oglala Lakota woman, and honor her life by showing up better for communities that have been erased.
[i] Many articles discuss Crooked Arrow’s death including this one from Mic.com: https://mic.com/articles/164689/two-spirit-woman-jamie-lee-wounded-arrow-is-2017-s-second-transgender-murder-victim#.okC07FnDc
[ii] For Sherman Alexie’s full poem, please visit https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/52775.
[iii] For the audio and full transcript of Kelly Hayes’s video, please view the article from Truth-Out regarding Hayes’s speech and platform here: http://www.truth-out.org/opinion/item/39191-why-i-threw-out-my-speech-for-the-women-s-march
[iv] As “cis” may be a new term for those unfamiliar or without access, here is a link to its definition on Wiki: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cisgender and here is a reference to help understand how to better learn terms that are critical to the LGBTQIA community without burdening folks with those identities to be at the forefront of the education: http://www.transstudent.org/definitions
[v] Prior to colonization, many Native nations had diverse genders and gender roles and identities. Despite colonization, these practices have continued to thrive and have provided resilience and strength to Two Spirit individuals. Although this article uses an incorrect term (“transgendered”), Indian Country Today Media Network discusses this gender diversity: https://indiancountrymedianetwork.com/news/opinions/two-spirits-one-heart-five-genders/. More on Two Spirit identities here: https://warriorpublications.wordpress.com/2013/07/30/the-two-spirit-people-of-indigenous-north-americans/ and here: http://www.westender.com/news-issues/two-spirits-one-struggle-the-front-lines-of-being-first-nations-and-gay-1.1269015#sthash.QnK7yUau.aZIYnUjS.gbpl
[vi] Two Spirit is a term to reference people in Indigenous communities and should not be used by non-Natives: http://www.conspireforchange.org/?p=2283
Animal Rights have to be about Human Rights
Y’all – I already posted a blog entry today, but here is the deal. I cannot stop now. I am sick and couch-ridden, as my other blog post noted in my discussion of the ACA, so I have nothing better to do than to use my organizing in words here in these posts.
This is some egregious sh** that is going on with the introduction of a new bill that would allow open hunting of bears and wolves. I shudder at this thought, but frankly I am also shuddering at the fact that there has been little to no outrage by those with white privilege when Cheeto-Monster indicated on inauguration day that he would beef up law enforcement, or when Sessions was nominated and vowed to eradicate civil rights investigations on police forces … what I heard then was either crickets or some faint whimperings that Sessions lied under oath about … Russia. Yeah, he did that. It sucked. SESSIONS ALSO WANTS TO ERADICATE CIVIL RIGHTS INVESTIGATIONS. How is THAT not the WORST? How is the expansion of police, eradication of investigation into excessive police force/brutality, and the proposal to get “tougher” on crime when black folks ALREADY make up a disproportionately larger part of prison systems (read: prison labor) thanks to “liberal” Democrat Clinton not the worst?
Y’all listen. I am a vegetarian. I have not had meat since I was 7 or 8 years old. I have two cats who are my children and who are my saving grace daily when I need comfort. I rescue cats in the neighborhood. And bears—oh bears—let me tell you. I wrote short stories about bears as a child. Thanks to my mom being a seamstress, I had more stuffed teddy bears than any working-class poor kid like myself could imagine. I dreamt about bears. In first grade, my mother and I went to the zoo (zoos have complicated relationships with animals—that I know) to see … the bears! And then we went to see this near-silent film about … bears. She pulled me out of school to do all this. I will always remember it as one of the nicest days I had together with my mom. We somehow bonded over bears—probably because I forced her to like them as much as I did. Even now, I joke with my partner that I want a grizzly and intend to ride it to work. (I also recognize how problematic that is to the bear.)
When I read and heard about this bill—and saw the video images of bears tumbling down snowy mountainsides with blood streaking the dusty white—I was devastated. I can’t get that dang image out of my head. Trauma does that to you, someone once told me; it makes you feel for animals in very in-depth ways. But you know what else I cannot get out of my head? The images that have circulated of black folks being killed. I am sad over the bears. I have to check myself, however, if I am overly vocal about bear and wolf hunting and silent about my siblings being shot with impunity, being recorded being shot with impunity, being recorded being killed by the people “sworn” to protect us. My sadness does not excuse me ignoring that black women and girls are going missing in Washington D.C. RIGHT now and that everyday—everyday—there is trauma in Native communities because of the very similar issue of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women #MMIW.
So be sad for the bears for the many complicated reasons you may be sad for the bears, but let us please try to be knowledgeable about the many bills being passed that impact people of color—especially women and femmes of color and particularly cash poor/working-class queer women and femmes of color with disabilities—before we devote all of our energies and attention to bears and wolves alone. Be sad about that—though do not seek comfort from people of color for that melancholy. Use your sadness to learn, learn, learn, listen, and speak out when appropriate (and learn by not demanding the labor from your friends of color--that is not why they are there). I am not saying anything new here--this is all the labor and work of people of color here to which I am grateful.
At the very least, let us not take these grizzly and wolf huntings out of context. Let us not reduce it. Let us also remember its human and larger ecological impact. When the U.S. authorized white settlers to shoot from train cars at buffalo as they traveled west, it authorized the genocide of Native people among the Northern and Midwestern plains who depended on those buffalo. As the U.S. now proposes to allow shooting of bears and wolves from aircraft, be sad for the bears and the wolves, but also look for the human cost—look for the rationale behind this authorization that is meant to exploit people of color, to divide and conquer the energies and actions of organizers, and to develop some profit or other gain for those who make these policies and for those who benefit from them.
Sick and Tired of Capitalism in My Healthcare
I am here at home, just about bed-ridden (or rather couch-ridden) for the second full day in a row thanks to being sick for now the third time this month. I am acutely aware of and grateful for my privilege that I have sick leave as well as health insurance through my job. What I do not have, however, is money to cover the out-of-pocket expenses to find out why I persistently get sick. I also do not have the time—in between work, dance, school, recovery, and activism (all of which I am grateful to have in my life but, because I am working-class, I do not have the luxury of pursuing just one or two at a time)—to see a doctor.
As I and we push back against the American Health Care Act (AHCA), we need not romanticize the Affordable Healthcare Act (ACA or Obamacare) lest we get complacent in small victories and/or maintain a kind of steadfast resolve to hold onto dualistic thinking (i.e. ACA versus “something else”) that never resolves the issues for those who are impacted by these elite healthcare plans in the first place. I say this to remind that today, while there were rallies to show solidarity with families ripped apart by deportations, rallies to stop detentions, and rallies around the ACA, I was only able (from my couch) to make a call to demand Katko say no to the AHCA. When I did call, I was met with some upper-class voice—presumably a cis man—sighing into the phone to me as if I were a bother that yes, Katko would be voting no …
That is promising, knowing Katko’s wavering stances on anything that is justly in the benefit of people, but not good enough. It is not good enough because we do not know until his vote is cast. It is not good enough because the ACA, while a small bit of progress, is also not the real change we need: single-payer healthcare and the vision that healthcare is a fundamental right for all people.
While I am far from the least advantaged under these systems, I can speak only from my experience to relate that which I know to that which others experience and so, for example, my doctor chose to stop treating patients after a recent merger—common under the ACA—because she did not agree with the requirements of the new direction of the merger and healthcare in general. The ACA requires healthcare workers to bend over backward to prove that patients are getting better—under very narrow definitions—leaving already taxed healthcare workers further strained and leaving patients who do not fit those narrow definitions of demonstrating signs of improvement at a disadvantage.
I say this because as we critique the AHCA, we need to look at what it means to shift it to something more profound than even the ACA. People will die when they lose coverage if the ACA is repealed, but the ACA alone cannot be our end goal or still more people will die. Who will those people be? Poor people—mostly poor women and femmes of color as poverty tends to impact women—and women and femmes of color—the most. This is, of course, because capitalism exploits the labor, lives, and bodies of women and femmes the most. (I say this not to strip them/us of our agency—we are agential, resilient, resistant, and damn effing beautiful—but the reality is that they/we know that and the rest of the world does not always know or value that in them/us and thus the world attempts to exploit them/us.) I say this because these facts are important right now and have the ability to critique the larger systems of oppression.
I am on a search for a new doctor, not least of which is because I have some pretty significant chronic health conditions that require attention. I am trying not to be scared—truly I have many things for which I can be grateful and with some care, will probably be just fine whereas I know others may not. Without care, I probably will be fine, too, but I will just be sick. A lot. Like I am now. And that reduces my ability to organize and I cannot help but think about how the AHCA and even the ACA as the only viable alternative have so many multi-pronged approaches to trying to keep us down …
Access to healthcare is a common problem among cash poor and working class black and Native communities; poorer folks tend to have higher rates of things like diabetes and hypertension and other cardiometabolic “disorders” and the research into those statistics is problematic and faulty. It is often individual-blaming rather than system-blaming and it certainly does not attempt to widen definitions of say healthy weights and/or other health indicators to be more inclusive of poorer/working-class folks. We are not the sum of our life decisions and choices, our plans future and present, our foods we eat or drinks we drink or lifestyle options upon which we engage. We are much more than that. When rich folks develop gout from overindulgence of sugary and fat-laden foods, they usually survive those bad choices. As poor folks who often have access only to certain kinds of foods, we are blamed for eating the only things we can afford and have access to eat and are denied care to any related health conditions as a result of our lack of access. (I could go on and on about the ways in which poor folks—especially poor black communities—have written and talked about the myriad of cuisines created from the often limited choices they are given, but I do not need to add my white voice to that. There are many articles on The Root, NPR, and elsewhere that talk about black resiliency in the face of institutionalized racism in their food options and health.)
So our conundrums are not new. The ACA failed to overhaul a system that incentivizes insurance companies, unduly strains providers/healthcare workers to fix the symptoms of unjust capitalism in the industry, and burdens lower-income patients who have fewer options in terms of quality care providers to treat them. And eradicating this system will only devastate those who are most often left out of the decisions about their care. I know some folks who will lose their ACA plans and all of us will be impacted by it negatively in some way. Let us not allow that to happen. Let us not allow the ACA to be repealed, but in our efforts, let us also demand something better. In our demands—if we all demand it together— perhaps our voice will be loud enough, strong enough, brilliant enough to demand an anti-capitalist healthcare system that is about people and not profit, that is rooted in basic human rights and needs, and that starts to chip away at this shroud of exceptionalism we have about these reformist policies that benefit a few and continue to leave out or only marginally benefit the many (and many of them being cash poor and working class women and femmes, specifically women and femmes of color).
Update: moments after posting this, I saw that the repeal and replace plan did not pass. I am overjoyed with this victory, but lest we forget, it is but a temporary victory because a) another repeal shall come from this monsterous administration and because b) the ACA is not our last stop on the inclusive, accessible healthcare train. e��^G
So of course a big old #BoyBye to Cheeto-Monster's sexist proclamation that women should dress like women ... but let's not forget that it was a white supremacist-classist sexism in that his level of aristocratic dress expected from people of all genders is disgustingly white-washed and accessible only to the rich. So while mainstream media claps back with images of #WhatWomenWear, I'm here to remind some of us ain't fancy surgeons or fancy astronauts or fancy CEOs and yet at work, we still #DressLikeAWoman (whatever that means) AND we are valuable in our own right AND our labor is just as valuable even if it is not paid the same as others (or paid at all). We don't need to be high ranking officials to be bomb-a**. Let's not forget the majority of women in this world ain't rich and Trump's overt sexism is also not-so-thinly-veiled classism rooted in white-washed ideals of work and fashion.
So just to counter the classist rebuttal ... a few images of #WomenWorking-including trans women-that is by no means exhaustive of all of our labors. Working class women: reblog with your favorite photos if you’d like!
Dance Movement...a Revolution
This past weekend, I readied myself in the CNY Jazz Central basement before a show, waiting to go on while watching the world unfold around me upstairs via social and news media covering the horrific ban on Muslims entering and re-entering the United States, tearing apart families and lives for the economic gain of a new dictator attempting to that same country. In this musty basement, with small leaks in the corners and props amidst the cement walls were the performers strewn with fake eyelashes and gobs of glitter and loads of beads and sequins and all the bustle and scrambling and hair curling that goes on before a number.
Amidst all this, I also watched the resistance of mass amounts people like I have not seen before in my lifetime—like I have wanted to see for so many years for the injustices many of us and many we know have surely faced until even now. It is here now, though. Masses at airports demanding an end to the ban. Taxi cab drivers – drivers! Workers! On strike! They worked collectively to stand in solidarity with immigrants and refugees and Muslims at borders and in airports, stuck in this tyrannical limbo. I was amazed. I was floored, but I could not be a part of that, despite how close as this is to me and my family, because I it was show time. It felt surreally like I was in a scene in “Cabaret,” which I knew too well having watched my partner’s sister perform in it recently—my partner’s beautiful, talented, smart, compassionate, wise-beyond-her-years, Iranian-American Muslim sister. I wanted to be with them—my partner and their sister and the rest of their family—but I was in red sequins and glitter lipstick and long eyelashes glued so tight to my lids that there would be no tears.
It was a travel-themed show and the irony amidst the horror was lost on me until I finally went upstairs to sit in the audience and watch the show to try to show up for what I was there to do because dance and femininity and all things glitter are often vilified less vehemently, but for the same power-mongering interests of the ruling classes who imposed this ban. I would dance in all the glamorous I could muster, my hair and makeup a little always off because well that’s how we working-class gals have it going on, and be my queer-ass, working-class self shining on the stage…but that travel theme at a time when people could not only not travel, but simply could not return home and therefore could or would face some of the most unthinkable lives as a result of detention or deportation … the irony was then not lost on me…
During intermission, I asked the emcee quickly if I could add a piece to my introduction before my performance and quickly jotted down an addition in the margins: “This piece,” I had the emcee say, “is dedicated to Muslims impacted by Trump’s travel ban… Dump Trump.” I did not have time for eloquence or much more, but I channeled all of that in my performance and exited the stage of this variety show with a rhythmic chant and hop getting the crowd to join in with me on telling Cheeto-Monster precisely what we thought of him because this was not “Cabaret.” I do not dance for Nazis. I do not dance for people who would put my family in detention centers because they are Muslim or deport my undocumented, refugee, and other immigrant friends because borders have been constructed for profit.
Downstairs, catching my breath, I saw that the ban was on pause after a federal judge HEARD THE VOICES OF THE ORGANIZED AND MOBILIZED PEOPLE who demanded it—from the protests in the streets and at the airports to the powerful workers who went on strike, refusing airport pickups and drop-offs for an hour in NYC—this concerted effort works. I know that the pause had nothing to do with my dance, but what a charge to see so this small change after giving in my dance all my love to the resistance to this administration and to the collective action against all oppression.
People work. Concerted, organized, mobilized people working together make change. Our power always is with us. Those who know oppression and have been made to be marginalized from the centers of life know this. We cannot ask our benevolent leaders to please give us our bread crumbs; we must demand it together. Protests work, when directed and concerted and following the lead and tradition of those who have been protesting since long before Cheeto-Monster was a twinkle in the eye of any political party. Pace yourself as there is more to come and assess truly what it is that you can do. Dance, but dance as a revolutionary. Sing or make music, but do it as a revolutionary. Make art, but make art for the revolution. Work out and play sports, but do it for the joy that will be in the revolution and to grow strong for it. Rest and eat and have fun because the revolution shall bring back rest to the workers and the oppressed and it shall have fun and joy and be demonstrative of all of our beautiful resilience.
The Revolution Must Be Led by the Poor, But First I Must Mourn
I spent most of my entire life struggling with a capitalist-patriarchy-induced eating disorder so profound that it barely looked anymore like an eating disorder. I was just a self-loathing, closeted-queer doormat who belittled the reality of my own economic oppression—instead decrying that I was lazy and stupid. That is what our system wants.
For a brief reprieve, I came out of that. I did. It was a beautiful damn thing, too. I came out and I saw that there was a way I could be free if I tried to fight for liberation for all. I tried. I was growing…I was getting there, but I was just not quite ready to be free and those old oppressors took me. (I am not a victim solely; I recognize my part, but this is not the time or place for that—I have spent a good 20 years knowing my part and for a bit now I gotta right-size that shit back around.)
It’s only been a short time—just in the past 3 years—that I have come out of some of the worst of it. Three years—out of the some 26 or 27 years I have lived with this—I have had 3 in near reprieve: an imperfect, challenging reprieve. I ate cookies 2 years ago and pizza finally just this past year, and then only in the past few months, I have had noodles—almost spaghetti, but just not quite there yet. Sometimes I can eat in front of people I do not know that well—with panic—but I can do it. If starving, I can let myself eat in front of people rather than, if starving, let myself starve. Like, I can let myself live. I am a freaking glorious, working-class lesbian who is strong as shit. But not as strong as some I so look up to and not as strong as someone like me who isn’t waking up from 3 years of living virtually in these surreal buffer zones of starvation and bathroom purges.
We all have our shit, y’all. I ain’t saying that I got it worse than anyone else. I can only say holy hot damn—I am starting to wonder how I am going to do this shit with this cheeto-butt administration. I don’t know if I can handle the outright excess of more oppression and then the even more insistent mansplaining and rich-splaining (and occasional straight-splaining) by liberals who do not respect that the revolution has to be won by poor women and poor femmes and poor gender nonconforming folks—in particular poor undocumented and black and Native and other women of color. I am aware, too, of my own white voice and angry at white supremacy for creating the racism that is meant to criminalize and profit off black lives, erase Native lives to perpetuate American exceptionalism, commodify Latinx lives for profit and hyper-nationalism, to deem dangerous Muslim and other Middle Eastern lives to expand capitalist interests in the name of empire and oppressive US imperialism. I am scared now for these lives being targeted even more under the cheez-wiz administration in the US now—for those that are my friends, my family, my loved ones, my students, my teachers, my comrades, my folks bound in liberation with me because there is no way these multiply-intersected systems of oppression will be taken down with just one, narrow, top-down strategy.
In all of this, I let myself pretend I do not have time to eat—that old familiar foe taking a nap on my shoulder. I forget that I do not have the luxury of “forgetting” to eat for the sake of the work and the movement and the struggle, but ooh boy is it tempting. Ooh boy is it hard. Ooh boy does this feel like that self-care from the work that feels bottomless and empty when some real big fears come looming ahead. So I write this here to hold myself accountable, y’all. I can’t be heading out when I just started to come back in. I am sorry I did that before—I left the ones I loved. I left the fight for liberation and I don’t want to leave ever again, let alone so soon. I do not have some profoundly beautiful closing here; I am starting off my blog experience getting the muck out. It has been a long time coming, the feels have been at bay for years, and this is still a time for mourning, albeit with a fervor also to organize necessarily. During this time of mourning that exists in the slivers between all of our work, share that love with each other in the fight. No way no how do you have to love your oppressors. No way no how do we have to stifle our sadness and hurt and anger at each other or at allies or whoever—anger and hurt and sadness are not hate—they are anger and hurt and sadness and they are part of human emotions and they drive us to do the good work we do.
I’ll stick around. Let’s stick around. When we are here, we are resilient. When we are here, we demonstrate that our lives and knowledges and bodies cannot be exploited or abandoned for profit and power concentrated at the top. I got this. You got this. We got this.
Mourn & Organize
I am so tired and I have not been at activism and organizing as long as some of the people I have been working with. I should have been at it as long—I once got started on this path early combatting economic injustice and oppression, but capitalism and well, something I have just learned to discover as a form of disability, has a way of making that challenging to hang onto.
About 10 years ago, all as a result of my eating disorder, I had a second heart attack, attempted suicide, lost my job, alienated all of my friends and a good portion of my family, and became homeless for a short while until I ended up in, at that time, about the 6th or 7th psychiatric ward somewhere in the foggiest part of the southern area of the San Francisco peninsula. Cameras were on me while I slept and I was stuck most afternoons smoking cigarettes in a narrow room enclosed by Plexiglas talking with people about travelling through the Redwood Forests—and through time—to come to Mills Peninsula Hospital’s psychiatric unit. Thanks to having a mother who both wanted and could afford to take me in for a short while, I returned to Syracuse, but I did not get better. I was in ERs a lot again, in treatment centers when I could afford to, accelerated my drinking, and went from relatively violent relationship to violent relationship. I denied my queer identity so virulently—trying to find something to make me not so terminally unique—that I ended up not only in more heterosexual relationships than I did queer ones, but also abusive ones, as well. Sexual assault. Domestic violence. All of all that.
Let me pause and thank you for hanging in with me, to steal a strategy I have seen my some other verbose social justice folks use out there. See those of us who experience oppression are often talked over, but then when we are finally given the floor, we’re told that brevity is the spice of wit, or some crap like that, so we have to shut up again. Well I/we have a lot to say. I have some significant privileges, so I am not saying I need to be taking up all the space—only when it is a moment in which it is valuable for me to talk and when I won’t be talking over the voices of my siblings in the struggle who have better things to say. Second in this pause is I also want to say my story is not so unique and I do not want anyone reading it that way. I did not end up in a women’s shelter because of my domestic violence. I did not get jailed for fighting off my attackers (mostly because of white privilege and just slightly because I did not fight back—I did not think I was worthy of that). Many people have far more challenging illnesses to contend with than I do. I am lucky and grateful and privileged as a working-class, queer, cis woman with white privilege. But have recently learned it is also the words of most victims—no matter their trauma—to compare it to others and say it isn’t so bad/It wasn’t that bad/she or they had it far worse. Wowwwwwww … So minimize and maximize not and I hope I get my story right-sized.
So back to it … at the DisruptJ20 demonstration, there was such an outpouring of love and camaraderie that I never had when I was out there in the world alone, letting the patriarchy impact my relationships and self-worth and safety, succumbing to capitalist demands on my time (which cannot always be avoided), and ignoring the ways my white privilege blinded me to the work that needed to be done for liberation for all. On the march, my bag broke and my friend—my comrade—gave me a pin off his jacket to hold it together. I shared water with friends. We danced holding political signs and shared nuts and granola bars and apples and peanut butter sandwiches. (That food-sharing is pretty dang critical for a girl who grew up poor with anorexia.) We swapped turns driving. We were offered beds in a home we didn’t know and given so much political knowledge that it was unbelievable. Returning home, after being up about 24 hours on only about 4 or 5 hours of sleep and marching miles in DC in January, that old familiar shame came back. I was not doing this right. I should have gone to that march, too. I should not have said this or said that. I am annoying the people most impacted by Cheeto-Hitler’s administration and I took up too much space (a familiar thought I have as a person with an eating disorder, but critical to be aware of as a white person and the irony of this long blog is not lost on me so I will wrap up ASAP). And then I just balled up and sobbed for the second time that week (the time before was when Obama denied Leonard Peltier clemency). I hadn’t meant to. I didn’t have time to. I never do. Work, school, dance, activism and political education, chores, oh and that pesky business of trying to maintain recover … Who has time to cry? But I could not help it and then I cried for the shame from wallowing in self-pity, which really would not help my wrongdoings or perceived wrongdoings in the fight for liberation for all.
So I picked myself up and reminded myself—well I reminded myself to stop crying because I had a lot of homework to do and a gig to make later—but also that the time to mourn could come later. That the time to mourn could be public, see, and here is my point, why is emotion so bad? Why must we take our emotions out of it? Why must we not engage in activism with emotion? Since emotions are so often feminized, I cannot help but determine that it is from the cis-hetero-patriarchy that we are often told to take them out. That was certainly what I was told when I used to engage in activist work before—be rationalllllllllllllllllll they said. Be calm (who ever has calmed down by someone telling you to calm down, please and thank you let me know?). But I am angry despite that women are not supposed to be angry-and black women are even more so vikified for it, so checking emotion in activist work can really police black women and that’s a racist practice no one should be getting behind. Checking my emotions in my work—thinking I had to stifle my anger—stifled all parts of me and a self-hatred ran so deep that I let the patriarchy abuse me and internalized misogyny and let capitalism run rampant because I was too beat down to do anything about it. Realizing this life lost to that made me cry again and so OK—so I needed to cry at that moment because for some decade and a half I had not let myself actually cry (much at all or) about the things that mattered and I grieved for what capitalism stole from me … for that life lost to capitalism as I know what it steals (in different ways) from others including Red Fawn and Leonard Peltier and the people who go unnoticed in their beautiful work to combat all injustice. I cried for them and I felt all of them and our losses well up and when it was over, I got back into this work and put my emotion into it because we are told not to and so when we use some emotion, we resist just a little--and sometimes a lot--that which seeks to oppress us. So I keep learning what I need to learn and to teach when I can and learn a lot more. And now I rest because the emotion has got to be in the work and then all that emotional labor needs a union break.
This is dedicated to Red Fawn Fallis whose life and activism and good spirits has connected me to my emotion and for whom I will tirelessly support in my work. Free Red Fawn.
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