Some days it feels like the world is burning… and let’s be honest… it is.
I try and write a post each semester about my values for going back into teaching, and something I’m going to try and align myself with in my life and in the classroom. But with multiple genocides ongoing, a pandemic that we’re trying to ignore, and the world hip-deep in a climate crisis, it’s sometimes difficult to see any difference that we can make as individuals.
So for the start (ish) of 2024, I wanted to share some wisdom that I’ve picked up about how to keep doing your work, even when you can see the seemingly insurmountable pile of work that still needs to be done that you do not have the resources to address. This post is inspired by Dr. Allison Upshaw – who showed me what to do – and by Piper Fierce, who made me go out and do it, and so so many others who have inspired me in my own activist journey.
Everyone has the potential to be an activist, even if they don’t know what that looks like. In the world of queer theory, we say that queerness can be an identity, but it’s also an attitude towards the world you live in. It is possible to live, love, and practice your life “queerly,” even if you are cisgender and straight. You do so by cultivating a mindset that is aligned with the values of queer liberation, and finding ways to put those values into practice.
In the same way, it is possible to live an activist life by cultivating a value-driven mindset that is attuned to the need for change, and finding ways to put those changes into practice also. For some people, that’s going to start with learning, for some it might mean re-organizing the systems of your life, or speaking up in different ways. It might mean going to protests, attending community events, putting your body to work for a cause, writing, calling, giving money etc. When you look at all the ways to be an activist, it is impossible to take on them all, and so part of the journey of activism is finding what out you, personally, can and should and need to do.
Everyone’s activism has limits, and that’s ok. While the status of my green card was in flux, my limit was going to a protest that might put me into conflict with the police. I would cheer people on, meet at the initial rally, give out water… but I wasn’t brave enough to put my right to live in the US at risk. Some people can’t get arrested. Some people don’t have money to give. Some people don’t have the physical ability to be in certain situations or do certain kinds of work. Recognizing the limits to your activism is an essential part of being honest with yourself, so you work can come from a place of power and potential, rather than being driven by guilt.
That said, your limits should not be driven by discomfort. Activism isn’t easy, and it involves being able to choose the things that are right but hard. The systems around us are designed to make us complacent through convenience, to put up barriers in the way of changes for the better. It can be tempting to get stuck in a place of self-care over structural care, or to fall into the trap of “well I haven’t learned enough to act yet.” Pick a thing you can do today, and do it. Pick something bigger tomorrow. Set yourself goals and responsibilities, and push yourself to meet them. Find out what the brave thing is that you want to do. See if you can act the way the person you want to be would.
We have to be allies across the work. Which cannot mean everyone getting behind the one, “most important” thing. We have to trust that between us there is enough change to go around, and if there isn’t, that’s a problem we need to fix with greater empathy. This also means that people need permission – from themselves and others – to follow their curiosity in their passion for change, and to discover what work they do best. We have to learn to celebrate the activists who are doing work in spaces different than our own and treat them as allies, rather than as competition.
That means also that we have to learn how to deal with ignorance in our allies, and in ourselves. If you know that you are not doing activist work on a particular thing, you are still responsible for being an ally to those who are. That means we have to be committed to accepting the expertise of activists in other areas, to believing people when they say they have been harmed, and trusting other experts to guide us in making changes. When it’s not clear who to listen to, and marginalized voices are in conflict, that’s when we have to be able to name our values and let them guide our choices. For me, that sounds like: “What is the change being asked for? What does it cost me? How might it put me in conflict or community with different groups of people?” and then going from there.
Activism occurs at different scales. Some of the most life-changing conversations I’ve had with people have occurred one on one. Sometimes you need a quarter of a million people to march on Washington. I have sometimes felt uneasy about describing my teaching as a form of activism, but I ultimately realized that it is a way I help people learn, and see each other, and set up a container of values that I hope students will take away with them. The need for change in a world on fire is overwhelming, but finding the scale you work at, and using it to make the changes you can, is the only way to start.
Sometimes the work activists do is a physical manifestation of the power of humanity.
Sometimes it’s a law whose effect ripples down through generations.
Sometimes it’s one person who lives who would have died, and all their infinite potential.
Without a microscope, we cannot cure diseases. Without a telescope, we cannot reach the stars. It is ok, I promise, to know which kind of activist you are, and cultivate your own life of change.
Good luck in 2024!
the headtail connection 