And So I Fast
Today I am participating in the solidarity fast with those prisoners who are currently on hunger strike. I've never fasted before. Never voluntarily went without food for any reason. For me, this fast serves as a reminder to reflect on and support the estimated 30,000 prisoners who are in the fourth day of their strike.
When I notice my own hunger, I am reminded of the depth of conviction it takes to starve oneself as a means of resistance.
I am reminded of how sad and infuriating it is that we as a society have put so many people in a position where organized, mass self-harm is the only means of resistance available to them.
I am reminded of the sacrifices that these people are making in order to end the use of torture and fight for better conditions for all people we've locked in cages. And I am reminded that solidarity requires more than words. It requires us to take action. It requires us to be willing to sacrifice as well.
But more than anything else, I am reminded of my own privileged position. I am not in solitary. I am not in prison. I have the freedom to participate (or not) in this action without repercussions. And ultimately, my fast is primarily symbolic. At sundown, I will break my fast. I will eat. But those on hunger strike (whether in California, Oregon, Washington, or Guantanamo) will continue until their demands are met. I don't know that I'm yet capable of fully wrapping my mind around that reality.