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| My favorite sign. Everyone agrees. |
I've been meaning to post this sooner because I'm so thrilled my first list item of the year supports my growing commitment to acting for justice. While I've always believed in justice and equity, actually developing the daily habits and making actual time and energy commitments is something that takes real effort. It also reinforces itself. The more I learn, the more compelled I feel to take action.
Growing up, I was taught to value diversity and humanity. My parents intentionally sent me to an intentionally diverse preschool and struggled with the decision to move into the Saline school district: better schools, less diversity. We still lived close enough to Ann Arbor to go there regularly, but my daily school life was not very diverse.
My alma mater, the University of Michigan, constantly touts the importance it places on diversity and publicly fought to maintain its "point system" for admission, which the institution claims supported admitting a more diverse student population. The undergraduate admissions system was deemed illegal, but the law school's admission process, which relied on essays rather than points assigned for categories, was deemed legal. I remember being proud of my school for being proactive in recruiting a diverse student body.
It wasn't until later that I realized 1) it's not as diverse as I thought it was, and 2) diversity for diversity's sake only benefits students with privileged identities... like me. If the purpose is to create inclusive admissions practices that dismantle systems of oppression that have historically kept some populations from higher education and to broaden perspectives in academia, great. If the purpose is for minoritized people to exist to educate people like me who have grown up in homogeneous communities, not great at all. I believe Michigan truly wants to be the former but likely does a lot of the latter.
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| "A woman's place is in the resistance" |
When I started at the University of San Diego, I was slightly concerned about being at a conservative university. I attended the first Safe Space Allies workshop available and learned that I could apply to be a facilitator with the Rainbow Educator program. I am so thankful I was accepted as the experience was invaluable for my own development. Training and meeting with the other students, faculty, staff, and alumni who volunteered with this group was generally a feel-good experience as well, but occasionally, we dived deep into our own experiences and perspectives to examine how we perpetuate social injustice even when we don't intend to. That was hard. While there were moments when I was paralyzed by guilt and shame, those moments were few and far between because while they are real, they aren't helpful. What is helpful is recognizing strategies for change. In addition, I was able to facilitate workshops that centered equity and inclusion in a variety of settings on campus. This experience taught me to "call in" individuals who were struggling with the concepts we were discussing.
Since that experience, I've come to feel strongly that while "calling in" is an important strategy for educational settings, such as formally facilitating a workshop on inclusion, it is not enough in the larger social justice context. With the very disturbing presidential election cycle in 2016, I vowed to call out injustice every single time I felt safe doing so. I defined "safe" in this context as direct physical and professional safety. As a single woman who spends a lot of time alone without anyone knowing where I am, I'm often not willing to jeopardize my own physical safety to call out language or behaviors I find oppressive. (I wonder if this will change if I ever encounter a situation where someone else's physical safety is at risk.) For example, in terms of physical safety, I would call out a friend for making a comment about my body, but I wouldn't call out a man on the street for making the same comment if I were walking alone. In terms of professional safety, during the election, I had just started working my first full-time job after completing my Ph.D. The lack of appropriate higher ed positions pushed me to take a job where I would need to live paycheck to paycheck.... again. There was an opportunity for advancement and my workplace did not attend to issues of social justice. I needed my financial situation to change, so I just didn't feel comfortable calling out my coworkers. (Hello, intersectionality.) (Retrospectively, I wish I would because I was not considered for the position and soon left that institution altogether.)
I'm so relieved now to be in a workplace I consider feminist. Coworkers at all levels are vocal about social justice issues. I no longer feel my social justice-lens is a professional liability. I'm so thankful. I don't forsee the need to call out any of my coworkers, so I hope to use the opportunities I'm granted to speak at conferences to "call in" colleagues in educational settings.
All of that brings me to a very powerful Saturday, January 21, 2017. I participated in the Women's March in Chicago. I had a few friends attending but chose to attend with a few of my coworkers, mostly because I am so thankful to work in an environment where those who are interested in being activists for feminism openly support each other. I'm so thrilled to work with you, John, Sarah, and Moe.
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| Moe, me, & Sarah |
Well, I intended to attend with them. I was moving too slow in the morning and did not anticipate the public transit delays. While I could have seen the delays as an inconvenience, they instead brought me to tears. The trains were so packed with marchers, there wasn't room to board many of the cars as I waited at Fullerton. When I did board, people were excited and kind.
John told me where my group was located for the rally. It was quite a bit of work to get there. When I hit the clog of bodies, I realized a few things. 1) This was beautiful. I couldn't get to my people because the downtown area was flooded with my people. The mood was determined and creative. The signs were beautiful and inspiring. 2) Part of the reason the area I was in was clogged was because marchers were asked not to stand on the grass... so they didn't. We were all standing, rallying, and trying to move only on the sidewalks out of respect to the beauty of our city. 3) I could move slowly towards where my people were and have a moving experience being in community with so many people who stood together to support a cause I truly believe in.
I eventually found Moe and Sarah. John and his wife had to leave before I finally found them. At that point we were told there were too many people, the march was cancelled, and we would rally in place. We listened to the inspiring local speakers: grassroots activists and politicians with messages diverse in perspective but consistent on the message of caring for all humanity. The signs were compelling and hilarious. I was struck by the skill of the speakers to call out and call in almost in the same breath. They challenged us to name a Native American who has been killed by police this year when they are the group most killed by police... and then told us we aren't "supposed" to know. We were educated on the grassroots movements that have been working so hard for so long without us... and have been waiting for us to finally show up. I appreciated the reminder that this work isn't new, there is history, but it needs all of us. Now is always the best time to fight injustice, even if we never have before. We need to move beyond guilt, beyond the savior complex, and join the those who have been immersed in the work for so long.After the rally, Sarah and I took "the scenic route" back to the train. Really, we ended up marching with thousands of other Chicagoans. The official march was cancelled, but the marchers filled the streets of Chicago uncontested. We chanted, appreciated each other, took photos, laughed, and walked through the streets. Cars stuck in traffic because of us honked in support (for real, they waved and took pictures). Police waited calmly and responded "you're welcome" to every "thank you."
While I'm so proud to be a part of the second-largest Women's March and part of the larger movement that saw marches all over the world with very consistent messages, I'm overwhelmed by the work that still needs to be done. I have made an effort to stay away from facebook and news outlets for periods of time only to return to see I've missed so much. I expected bad, but I cannot believe this first week of Trump's presidency has been so immensely heartbreaking. Women around the world have lost access to healthcare in the name of life. A wall is to be built, spending billions in taxpayer money on a problem that isn't actually a major problem. Millions may lose health care and we may all lose transportable benefits. Refugees have been banned from seven countries have been banned under false pretenses. 
Today I'm inspired by the ACLU who has contested the refugee ban and won an injunction to halt the ban. Personally, I have done a lot of reflecting on what is legal versus what is right. I remember learning about the holocaust (yesterday was Holocaust Remembrance Day) and thinking, of course I would break the law to do what's right. Well, now may be the time to learn from our history.
