The Struggle is Permanent: Keep Fighting
Or some notes on carrying on...
[words adapted from a talk given in March]
Speaking at a conference in 2002, radical economist Maria da Conceicao Tavares said:
“Maybe when you are 20 years old you can believe in revolution, socialism and even the resurrection of the flesh. But have no illusions; the struggle is permanent. I have fought for fifty years and I will continue fighting until I die. That is all I know how to do. And I hope you will join me.”
I’m in my 50s and I still believe in revolution, socialism and the resurrection of the body on the Day of Judgement. But like Tavares, I know that the struggle is permanent. I also know that we have a duty to fight and that is my ongoing commitment. I struggle for and with specific people in mind rather than for abstract ideas. And this is fuel that keeps me grounded and going despite the dull roar of fascism. Some of our best teachers who were movement long-distance runners learned the same lessons.
We’re living in the U.S. under a full blown authoritarian Federal government that has been and continues to fund genocides across the world and is now also bombing Iran. We’re ruled by oligarchs who are engaged in a smash and grab looting of the government’s coffers, we’re in an environmental collapse with few in the U.S. government taking this seriously, our trans siblings are having their rights stripped while under threat of elimination, our bodily autonomy continues to be under attack and the regime is calling up the military to quell dissent. Is it any wonder that many of us feel and are unwell?
It’s a lot to live through. I know. We live in a time that offers many reasons to despair. If you’ve been a part of social movements, you’re probably excellent at ‘reciting the terribles’ and some of us are perhaps also practiced at offering some analysis. But on the question of what to do, of what we must do to transform our current conditions, I’m noticing an intellectual and perhaps spiritual exhaustion. But the truth is quite simple: we don’t know what to do because there’s not just one thing to do.
I’ve seen that Diane di Prima’s poem Revolutionary Letter #8 is making the rounds again online. In particular this part:
NO ONE WAY WORKS, it will take all of us
shoving at the thing from all sides
to bring it down.
It’s resonating with people because these words happen to be true. Also, I think, because people are already in motion. They are organizing, protesting, living and will continue. And we know that collective action matters because of how hard the current regime is trying to repress it.
Perhaps you’re feeling as exhausted by words as I am lately. It’s not that I prefer silence but words are draining my energy and they leave me wrung out. Sometimes they sit like dead weight on my chest. It feels like everything has been said over and over again. I’ve been wondering if I can just end every sentence with a question mark to change things up. This feels more honest somehow, more appropriate for our times.
I’m craving concrete actions instead of words [though words are important]. I want to DO things with others. I want to try lots of different things. Maybe those are my question marks. I don’t know? Let’s try it? Can I help you do that? Are we ready? Is what we’re doing a waste of time? Is there light at the end of the tunnel? What’s the good news? Is what we’re doing increasing the possibility of freedom and liberation for everyone?
I was reminded recently of a Daoist parable retold by Alan Watts that I come back to from time to time. It goes like this:
Once upon a time there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all of his neighbors came around to commiserate. They said, “We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate.” The farmer said, “Maybe.” The next day the horse came back bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening everybody came back and said, “Oh, isn’t that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!” The farmer again said, “Maybe.”
The following day his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbors then said, “Oh dear, that’s too bad,” and the farmer responded, “Maybe.” The next day the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again all the neighbors came around and said, “Isn’t that great!” Again, the farmer said, “Maybe.”
The story of the Chinese farmer reminds us that life is less about the situation that we’re in and more about our responses to that situation. As human beings, we need to feel in control and we crave certainty. But more than ever, we have to get comfortable with uncertainty. I know what you are thinking: ‘But Mariame, human beings will cling to the familiar even when the familiar is failing us.’ You are right, this is true.
Uncertainty can provoke fear and fear is an ingrained survival mechanism that takes priority over our brain’s other functions. When humans feel as though we cannot control a scary or painful situation, we often just give up and want to hide. Being afraid can have you turn inwards seeking protection - this is normal but we have to push ourselves, especially now, to turn outwards in defiance of fear. This is not, I believe, a time for retreating and for staying in a defensive crouch. This is a time when I think we should be trying lots of different things to see what makes a difference.
We are living in times where much is beyond our personal control and we are swimming in a sea of uncertainty. Rather than allowing ourselves to be swallowed by fear because the present and future are uncertain, what if we tried to inhabit and embrace possibility? What if we live in the “Maybe” during what are undoubtedly difficult times?
To do that, I think we must embrace the concept and word possibility. Doodle the word while you are writing, embroider it on a pillow, speak it out loud as a mantra, post it as an affirmation on your bathroom mirror, so you see it every morning. Let St. Francis of Assisi’s words guide you; I believe they offer each of us a road map through uncertainty: “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”
People are the foundation of all possibilities. Father Dave Kelly of Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation in Chicago is one of the most committed and effective practitioners of restorative justice, I know. It was from him that I learned about the practice of accompaniment. Some of you have probably heard of this term/practice before. But years ago, I hadn’t.
Accompaniment is a Jesuit idea, meaning to “live and walk” alongside those you serve. It is the willingness to encounter another, to make someone feel valued and seen, bettered for knowing you, never small. It’s a resolve to show up repeatedly, to listen without judgment, to offer resources and skills without condescension. It’s that open and steady presence of being both a follower willing to be led and also when warranted to guide. It’s something that I’ve seen the best organizers I know do repeatedly.
Accompaniment is especially important when partnering with those who are marginalized, who are excluded and vulnerable. To show up, to connect with someone else’s humanity has so much power. Accompaniment is a form of action in the service of lessening suffering. It offers some fruitful possibilities for making things with others.
Our exhausted words and theories are not, I believe, as important as how we relate to each other and the relationships we build. We need so much accompaniment right now. Who will you accompany and who do you need to accompany you?
The good news is that many people are already engaged in accompaniment and also continue to engage in mutual aid. I take a lot of inspiration from both.
Many people have correctly assessed that we are up against massive forces of oppression. They know they won’t individually be able to make a meaningful dent in those forces. People know that collective action is the only way forward, but we’re in a time when some people feel/are alone and also lack trust in others. Yet as humans, we crave connection. All of this is a recipe for resignation and also sometimes for impotent rage.
I don’t think that we are *doomed or cooked*. I think more than ever that we must put our energies and our attention towards protecting the most vulnerable people right now, and to make things a little bit better in the corner of the world we live in. Barbara Marx Hubbard says that our task is “to hospice what’s dying and midwife what’s being born.” There’s a lot to do and a lot to grieve and a lot to organize against and there’s also living to do and beauty to behold.
I’ve been leaning on Li Young’s words:
“We counted up all the deaths; we counted up all the dying; we counted up all the terrible things in life, and guess what? There’s still Van Gogh painting sunflowers, there’s still morning glories. There’s an excess in the universe, a much-ness, a too-much-ness.”
Focusing on some beauty means that we will have far more strength and stamina to show up to the world’s pain. At this time, we desperately need more people showing up to that pain. Practicing collective care, which is a form of reciprocal community provision, is essential right now as it always has been. As Krystle Okafor has written, “It is how we make each other possible.” Kelly and I write in Let This Radicalize You that prioritizing collective care in this historical moment is necessary, rebellious and revolutionary. Don’t be cynical about this reality.
Right now it might feel like we’re being overwhelmed by the Right’s promised “shock and awe” strategy and it is in fact overwhelming. However, it is our work to stay focused, plan our responses, and importantly to prepare for the next ruptures because there will be more big ruptures. As writer Sarah Leonard has said the question for all of us is: “will we be ready” the next time? How we respond, and what we do next, is in our hands. The parable of the Chinese farmer illustrates that the consequences of most actions are unknowable and uncertain. Let’s stay rooted in the Maybe. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.
Writer Victoria Safford shared a quote from someone in an essay that I appreciate very much & have shared elsewhere: “You know we cannot do this all at once. But every day offers every one of us little invitations for resistance, and you make your own responses.” I love the idea of “little invitations for resistance.” The question before all of us, I think, is ‘what will we make of this moment in history?’ One thing I know for sure is that we need to build our *action* muscles. We need to get outside of ourselves and act (both individually and collectively). We all need to accept the little invitations for resistance.
There are many ways to contribute to our collective liberation, and we all have talents, skills, and gifts to share. As the wonderful writer, my comrade Sarah McCarry has written: “Our work now is to attend to the suffering of other beings, and to attend to the suffering within ourselves, so that we do not inflict it on those around us.”
Choose a lane and do what you can. That’s all any of us can do and still live our lives. We’re all navigating the horror, the banality and also the beauty of the world. Give yourself some grace and remind yourself that you can be part of building up what’s been undone, more radically and boldly. What is torn down sometimes needs to go. Don’t hold on tightly to things that have never served us. And when something can’t be fixed, we should ask: what can be built instead?
If you’re not numb and disconnected as your enemies hope, applaud yourself for holding on to your emotions and your humanity. It means that they haven’t succeeded in stealing your heart. You are victorious because all of their propaganda hasn’t worked on you. You still care about others at home and abroad. You still hold righteous rage at injustice. You still believe in everything for everyone.
Don’t forget that dreams are fuel and that it’s important to have a vision of what we want to guide us. Our visions keep us in the fight because they are what we are fighting for. Keep making things and creating even though it might feel as though *the* world is ending. Share what you make with others. I have faith in our creativity. Another world is possible in part because each of us carries seeds of new worlds within us. Our opponents may try to bury us, but they don’t know that those seeds are inside us ready to create new possibilities of life.
As Ella Baker said: “The struggle is eternal. The tribe increases. Somebody carries on.” I hope you’ll join me in being someone who carries on.
Potpourri
If you want to join me in a small thing that is worth doing, please help me to support one of my favorite places, Bluestockings Cooperative Bookstore to keep its doors open. I am organizing a summer book drive with a goal of collecting 2500 books for their shelves. Drop off or mail your gently used or new books to Bluestockings. All details are in these fliers. We desperately need community spaces like Bluestockings in NYC and we must do what we can to preserve them. Thanks to Julie for making the flier and graphics for me. Please feel free to print the flier and share in your communities. Thanks in advance for donating books and spreading the word about the drive. If you can’t donate books, please consider becoming a member or donating money.
Also, please stop by Bluestockings for “Abolitionist Toyery” on Sunday, August 10 from 1:00 to 6:00 pm. I am organizing a special pop up event at Bluestockings on August 10. I need some help to pull it off. Please send me some examples of abolitionist toys. In other words, what existing or imagined toys do you think are potentially abolitionist in function, design, or use? When you share the toy, please let me know in what ways you think it is potentially abolitionist. I am open to any and all ideas from people of all ages.
You can email your thoughts and ideas to me at niapoetry@gmail.com. If I use your idea, you will be properly credited and I will also mail you a 12 by 12 print of the Micah Bazant art that I shared earlier in this newsletter. I have 20 prints that I can send. Also, if you’ve actually made an abolitionist toy, please send me a photograph! Play is anti-fascist.
If you are in NYC, stop by Black Reading Room through July 14. Installed in celebration of Juneteenth, the Black Reading Room pays homage to the Black freedom struggle rooted in southern traditions, abolitionist philosophies, and the ongoing fight for liberation.
Don’t forget to send in your contributions to my Ransom Notes from the GOP zine. The deadline is June 30 but I will accept submissions through July 15. Thanks to those who have already sent me your contributions!
My comrades Jovida and Weyam are offering two free/by donation "Conflict Clinics." I cannot recommend both of them more highly. They are excellent facilitators who support all of us to address and transform conflict in our lives, organizations and communities. The first session is on June 27.
Registration for the anti-criminalization Communiversity that I have been co-organizing with a small planning team is officially open. You have to be based in NYC to join us. It’s an experiment and we are interested to see where it goes.
Finally if you are in NYC, tomorrow is the Democratic primary. Remember DO NOT RANK CUOMO. I will be ranking Zohran and Brad #1 and #2.
Just what I needed today. Thank you!
Thank you for your work, your heart, and for this generous gift, which reads like a settling, a clarity, and a relief to my weary spirit today.