EPILOGUE

Life After Trump and the Power of Healing

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

—MARIANNE WILLIAMSON

In the wake of Trump’s election and inauguration, I could feel collective trauma spread across the nation. I could see it in people’s faces; I felt it in my own body, too. The daily onslaughts continue today as the mainstream cultural channels repeat Trump’s words, even when they know he is lying. This is taking its toll and doing its job of creating feelings of powerlessness, confusion, despair, and instability, all of which help this administration relentlessly drive the destructive agenda of the 1 percent. As time marches on, some have tuned out as a way of coping, putting their heads in the proverbial sand. Some live quietly in fear. Some have been reactive, thrashing out in anger at the president’s hateful words and his inhumane, deadly actions. Some have risen up.

As attention shifts to the 2020 election and the hope of a post-Trump world, it’s important to remind ourselves that the pursuit of social justice is life’s work. When Trump leaves office, he will not take our oppressive culture and institutions with him. The divides that plague our country—the divides that made Trump electable—will not disappear.

I’m old enough now to see the patterns around election cycles. When an election approaches, money and people go into the campaigns, taking needed resources from movement initiatives. If a Republican gets in, we organize and protest. If a Democrat gets elected, our movements sit back with a sense of relief and caution. But the problem with our focus on elections is that politicians, be they Democrat or Republican, will not solve our problems. When the Democrats lead without accountability, we let them off the hook, like Clinton when he drove through welfare reform and NAFTA, or when Obama imprisoned immigrant children, refused to close the Guantanamo prison camp, and continued to bail out the banks.

Electoral organizing is just one part of the larger movement for change. I choose to take direct action outside and inside our legislative halls, knowing it is the power of the people-in-action that creates the mandate for change. Too many nonprofits, labor unions, political parties, and community-based groups utilize election campaigns, legislative fights, and public education as their primary strategies. History shows us this is not enough. Our lived experiences through our daily lives show us that we can’t expect elected officials to do the right thing. This is a simple fact, yet people continue to entrust themselves, their schools, and their communities to the work of elected officials alone.

Democracy is not just an ideal, nor is it an annual event. It is not tied to any legislative session. It is a daily practice of working in community, engaging in decision making about things that affect our lives. The roots of the word democracy are in the ancient Greek language. Demos means “the people,” and kratia means “power.” People power is at the heart of democracy, and it is also the heart and soul of direct action. When people are empowered, they don’t wait for permission. They do what needs to be done.

Democracy is not a political process separate from our personal lives. The personal is political. Every choice we make is an exercise of our power.

This is why healing ourselves is inseparable from healing the world around us. It has taken me a long time to understand that healing myself is the most important, and most difficult, part of my work. In order to heal, we must be willing to let go of what we think we know, and be willing to change into what we can be.

Looking Inward: Coming Home to Austin

When I returned to Austin from Standing Rock in December 2016, I was exhausted, traumatized, and cold to the bone. I welcomed the Austin sun and warm breezes, soaking it all in as I sat in my backyard. I lived in a lovely home in the Zilker Park area, a neighborhood undergoing rapid change as small homes were being torn down and replaced with new, larger, more modern ones. But ours was still there! The backyard was my sanctuary where I reconnected with my many friends—the birds, squirrels, and lizards. Gracie, my cat, was happy I was home, sitting next to me whenever she could, soaking in our connection and the warmth of the sun.

Aaliyah and Raven, my friends and next-door neighbors, came over to visit often. Raven, at age six, was still small enough to squeeze through the backyard fence. She is a tender soul, always caring for others. Her older sister Aaliyah is a born leader and fighter. From their births forward, we have been growing up together; Negar, their mom, was born in Iran and has a keen eye for oppression, and together we are raising the girls to see and take action against injustice. These girls, like all kids, are medicine for me, bringing joy and happiness. Together we would run, play, and explore our ponds and the plants in the garden. Getting my fingers in the soil tending a garden has always been one of my survival strategies.

I was glad to be home and taking some time to regroup after the intensity of Standing Rock and the outcome of the election. I started back with my tai chi class, making my way to the park off of Shoal Creek every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning. It was a beautiful spot, a big open grassy area surrounded by huge live oak trees and a nearby creek. I would go early or stay late, sometimes just to sit by the water as it rushed by.

Healing has been a constant theme in my life. I am so grateful for my good body, my good health, and all the great healers who have supported me over the years. Much of my healing has been from injuries like fractures and sprains. My mom tells me I broke my collarbone when I was two. In the fourth grade I broke my wrist playing dodgeball, and in fifth grade I fractured my foot jumping off the deck. In sixth grade I fractured my other wrist playing touch football, and in seventh grade I fractured my right foot sliding into second base. In the eighth grade I got hit in the face with a baseball playing in the street—whew, did my eye and face swell! The doctors began to suggest that I stop playing sports, but that was not to be. In 2008 I fractured my wrist in March and then sprained my foot in April!

Then came the healing I’ve done from participating in protests where the police choose to harm with weapons, chemicals, and noise, or where counterprotestors have turned physical. In the mid-’80s, a Nicaraguan Contra grabbed a flag out of my hand, dislocating the upper tip of my ring finger. That finger is crooked to this day. I have been shot with a rubber bullet, tear-gassed, and pepper-sprayed, once taking a full shot directly in my face. I injured my hamstring during the Express Scripts labor campaign in Bensalem, Pennsylvania, in 2009. For several years after, my whole body got crooked. It was so bad that by 2012, I had to take a sabbatical to heal, only to injure myself again in 2017 when a fall in my garden resulted in a hematoma in my calf and knee.

It’s pretty common knowledge by now that the body, mind, and spirit are all connected. As understanding of neurobiology has grown, we have learned that our bodies carry out a complex set of interactions through a neural network of dynamic connections, and when things are out of balance or stuck, sickness can occur. If care is not taken, injuries or sickness can linger, affecting other parts of your body, laying down patterns that can create future problems. Healing, like movement work, is life’s work. It is an ever-evolving process, and the mind cannot be ignored in this process.

In addition to the physical injuries listed above, I have spent a lifetime healing from the difficulty my parents had when I was young and the feelings of neglect and loss after my father left home when I was four, and again more recently when he left the planet in 2015 after a traumatic year of trying to end his life. I have also been healing from the pain of knowing the history of what our government has done and continues to do, and have dealt with emotional assaults like hate mail, death threats, and being labeled a terrorist by media and Homeland Security. As I get older I realize some of the deepest healing needed is from white superiority and how it has affected all of us.

Healing work means accepting that we can’t control all of our life’s circumstances—but also recognizing that we have the ability to become whole again when something has fragmented us.

In the fall of 2017, my relationship of sixteen years came apart. I did not want it to end, but I wasn’t in control of that. I plummeted into a period of pain, despair, and a sense of abandonment. I had to go through the pain, taking responsibility for saving my life as well as for my own patterns. I am learning and working to develop practices every day to keep myself regulated in a time of great dysregulation. It was during this time that my tai chi class kept me grounded.

One day as I walked to my spot on the creek, I felt called to two connected giant live oak trees nearby. I sat down to meditate with the sun on my face and my back to the tree. Waves of emotions came up as I found myself sobbing, releasing grief, old and new. I had lost my partner, my home, my cat, and my daily life with Aaliyah, Raven, the birds and the squirrels. I had a lot to grieve.

I found myself at home with these trees, a place of solace. I called them ONEE and ONEZ, based on the little metal tag placed on each, labeled 1988 and 1987. I sat there after class, and at times I hugged them close. They offered their strength, reminding me to ground myself deep in the earth, to stand tall, strong, and flexible, no matter what was happening around me. I’m not surprised that there’s more information coming out these days about the healing power of trees, with a big study in 2015 showing the many health benefits of living near them.

For me, living a healthy life means being grounded in a state of wholeness, where there is room for both joy and pain. Wholeness is when all of our parts are in alignment with one another, with the universe, and in a loving relationship with our self and others. It means rejecting the denial, guilt, shame, and secrecy we have been socialized with. A woman named Buck at Standing Rock shared what her teacher taught her: “We are human beings. The human is physical, the being is spiritual.” I liked that. Our bodies, brains, and minds are incredibly powerful, and they can be damaged in ways that are difficult to overcome. To my great relief, they can be healed. It’s quite amazing, really.

When I was involved with Rise Up Texas in 2013, we offered our people a trauma workshop run by the International Center for Mental Health and Human Rights, which has worked with victims of violence around the world, particularly in Tibet. I learned more about neurology and physiology, and that trauma is not the triggering event itself, but the state of our nervous system during and after. They talked about our optimal window of arousal, or the window of tolerance, an idea first put forth by Dr. Daniel Siegal, a professor of psychology at UCLA.

The optimal window describes the mind-space where we’re best able to notice our sensations, access our emotions, and choose how to respond instead of just reacting. In this space we are grounded, clear, and calm. This optimal window contrasts with times when we are hyper-regulated (anxious, agitated) or hypo-regulated (depressed, apathetic). I’ve found that these three states correspond very well with the types of power discussed in chapter 6—Power Over, Power With/Within, and Power Under. Inspired by a framework that the international center offered, I now use these descriptions in some of my trainings:

Hyper-Aroused

ASSOCIATED WITH: Anger—Power Over—Superiority

WORD ASSOCIATIONS: Anxious, stress, agitated, manic, inflated, angry, talking fast, interrupting, no focus, no listening, no logic, buzzed, tense, seeing red, vengeful

Optimal Window of Arousal

ASSOCIATED WITH: Centered—Power With—Power Within

WORD ASSOCIATIONS: Sacred, open, grounded, fully alive, flexible, flow, non-attachment, light on feet, in the moment, needs met, clarity, hopeful, open to possibilities, clear, calm, rested, relaxed, generous, confident, capable, powerful, patient, kind, delighted, welcoming, breathing

Hypo-Aroused

ASSOCIATED WITH: Fear—Power Under—Inferiority

WORD ASSOCIATIONS: Tired, numb, depressed, apathetic, deflated, dissociated, lethargic, dull, worried, withdrawn, depressed, sleeping, paranoid, non-motivated, defeated, defensive

Trauma starts within our limbic system, the oldest part of the brain that enables us to respond to threats and processes our base instincts and emotions. Our limbic system commands our social feelings—our deep need to belong to community, which can in fact be the difference between life and death. When we’re threatened, our limbic system is activated in a big way. When the threat passes, the system should return to baseline. But for many of us living with trauma, it does not.

Psychologist Peter Levine was one of the first to develop somatic healing methods by focusing on how the body manifests trauma at the physiological level. In the landmark book Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma, Levine describes how animals in the wild are able to shake out the residual energy from the limbic system’s reaction to threat, discharging it, returning their bodies to a state of equilibrium. The problem with humans is we’re not so good at that. The trauma gets embedded; our alert system gets stuck, leaving us constantly on alert, afraid, and unable to calm ourselves.

Post-traumatic stress disorder is what this triggered, reactive state is called. There are many techniques that are proving helpful for PTSD, like Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy, tapping, yoga, and shaking your body. The difficulty is, our modern environment too rarely offers the conditions we need to support our healing from trauma and to develop in healthy ways. Over the millennia, our survival was based on being part of a group—a herd, pack, clan, or tribe. The threats are not the same today, but our wiring is the same. From birth onward, we learn to be dependent, and then interdependent. The ability to develop what is known as secure attachment is at the core of all relationships and our navigation of the insider/outsider dynamic. We aren’t usually conscious of it, but at some level we’re always assessing/asking: Do I belong? Is it safe? Will I be accepted? Am I loved? Even in movement work, understanding this dynamic is key to how we organize our meetings and events. We want everyone to feel like they belong.

When people lack the social conditions or other resources to develop secure attachment or for moving themselves back to a state of equilibrium, they learn to feel better by reaching outside themselves for something to calm the pain. The common choices are alcohol, drugs (legal and illegal), nicotine, caffeine, but also shopping, overeating, television addiction, workaholism—any behavior that we overdo to escape the pain. Even behaviors like reading or exercise can become addictive and can keep us disconnected when we overdo them. These addictions become a vicious cycle. When we’re caught up in avoiding pain, we’re less able to act with clarity, maturity, and compassion, or from a place of security when dealing with other people, thus creating increased insecurity and pain.

One of the first steps to healing is simply being conscious of what is. In our culture many of the symptoms of Hyper-Arousal are rewarded and even celebrated, like overwork, while the symptoms of Hypo-Arousal (depression, lethargy) are shamed and thus people try to hide it. We all experience trauma at some level; it is impossible to escape in a country founded in colonization, white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism. For generations, people have lived with state violence and environmental destruction, passing their trauma on to the next generation. The dominant culture can make us sick on any given day, whether from environmental toxins, pharmaceuticals, or pollutants in the water, air, and land. This is particularly true for people of color, whose very survival is challenged daily.

In a culture where violence is glorified and all around, we are consciously and unconsciously afraid of what we might lose or have taken from us. Strategies for getting back to center include:

Asking for help

Eating well

Sleeping well

Developing self-awareness with breathing exercises, identifying emotions and sensations, and taking the time to scan and notice your body and what it’s feeling

Learning to meditate

Taking long walks (this can reset your body)

Physical activity and exercise, especially yoga and dance

Connecting with someone safe and loving

Being easy on yourself and indulging in time-outs

Making eye contact with others, gazing into the other beings around you, recognizing their beauty and light

Doing things that make you happy—playing with babies, physical intimacy, and connecting with nature

With consent, we can offer others a hug, a gentle touch to the shoulder, or hold hands

Educating yourself about healing techniques

Being attentive to yourself and your personal hygiene

Connecting with friends, and community. Seek out teachers and healers—they are everywhere!

Another tool that I’ve found helpful for healing work is the practice of nonviolent communications (NVC) developed by Marshall Rosenberg. Oppression and trauma can lead to unhealthy communication, as it can cut us off from what we feel, need, or want. NVC offers us some literacy on emotions and needs. If you aren’t feeling good about a dynamic with someone, you can follow this conversation process: (1) Say, “I noticed that …” (2) Ask, “How did it make you feel?” (“I felt …”) (3) Ask, “What do you need?” (“What do I need …”) (4) Make a request. “Would you …” This simple, elegant process can remove judgment and anger, and it can get to the heart of what you feel and what you need to heal the disconnection.

I recognize that there are many other ways to achieve health and fight disease, and we cannot underestimate the power of staying active, eating healthy foods, drinking clean water, breathing fresh air, and cleaning up the soil. I’m not trying to oversimplify the many health challenges that people face, but rather to offer suggestions that can help make life healthier and more rewarding. There is no one way to heal but many, so finding what works for you is what matters.

During the process of writing this book, I have been learning what it means to truly love and accept myself, knowing that I am enough just the way I am. Sometimes this just means knowing what I am feeling, needing, and wanting and being gentle with myself. From all of my learnings, I am hopeful. Here again, complexity science informs my understanding—we are amazing, complex beings made up of many systems that are always interacting and changing. That change can lead us to destruction and death, or to an ever-evolving process of wholeness and health. We are never done, because we are in relationship with an environment that is always changing. We in fact emerge new each day.

Act Locally, Think Locally: Working Against Trump in Austin

Organizing work is part of my healing, provided I do it in an intentional and conscious way. More and more, I am seeing the connections among self-healing, self-love, and the power of direct action. Taking direct action requires conscious choices as we exercise our power. It deepens our appreciation of what we have and what we can create.

Working within a beloved community is a powerful way to heal, and after the 2016 elections, many found both power and solace by connecting with others. Since Trump’s election, there has been fear, but there has also been liberation. Millions of people have reclaimed their power, releasing tears of grief through action in a caring community. Many are taking risks they never imagined. While we have not won each battle, we are continuously gaining something greater—our belief in one another, that we can change things for the greater good.

After Standing Rock, I was hesitant to throw myself back in. But I knew I had to reconnect with my community and do what I could. I was planning to go to Washington, DC, for the J20 inauguration protests, but there was also a lot of work to be done in Austin.

In January I got a call from a friend who asked if I could do a de-escalation training for a group called Muslim Solidarity ATX, who were partnering with the Austin Sanctuary Network to support a big Texas Muslim Capitol Day rally at the capitol building. CAIR, the Council on American-Islamic Relations, was a main organizer. They were asking the community for support because white supremacists had disrupted their rally two years ago, and now with the rise in attacks against their community, they were especially concerned. Trump had just announced the Muslim ban, which targeted the predominantly Muslim countries of Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, and Yemen. The Muslim community in Austin has been active in resisting this and subsequent actions from the Trump administration.

I biked to the capitol early on Tuesday morning, January 30, feeling unsure about turnout since it was a workday. As the sun rose higher in the sky, I gathered people up in small groups for a quick briefing about our plan, role, and tactics. As more folks arrived, I headed up to the stage. From the capitol steps, I had a good view and was amazed at the sea of people showing up for their Muslim brothers and sisters.1 Similar to many protective actions before, our intent was to make a giant circle of protection around the Muslim rally participants, who would fill the middle of the circle. We would stand together, shoulder to shoulder, arms linked, calm in our power to say, “No, you shall not pass” to the white supremacists.

Before the action began, I offered love and gratitude for the people’s willingness to put their bodies on the line.

Over two thousand people showed up that Tuesday morning, standing in solidarity with hundreds of Muslims who had traveled, some from across the state, to be at the capitol. There was one crazy white supremacist heckler with signs near the back of the circle, but he had no real impact on the joyful rally. Our lines held, and our roving troubleshooting teams were able to keep that man at a distance from the line. Afterward, many folks stayed on as escorts, making sure that no one felt unsafe or had to walk home alone. We were there in community and in solidarity.

Most of this book has looked at the bigger campaigns I have been a part of internationally and across the US, but this doesn’t imply that folks need to leave home to be a part of the movement. As I explored in chapter 1, our movements are most powerful when they comprise local networks linked together with other networks in a moderately dense, flexible, powerful web. Most of my work has been grounded in the communities where I have lived. This began with my work in high school and college in upstate New York, then in Boston, DC, Los Angeles, and most recently Austin, Texas.

Much of this work in Austin has come about organically as I follow the principles of direct action in my daily life. For example, in October 2013, Onion Creek in Austin rose at exponential rates, causing a deadly flash flood as the gauges failed. A raging river flowed across a dozen neighborhoods, killing six people, damaging over a thousand homes, and killing horses and thousands of chickens. I knew that a new friend, Ruth, from my tai chi class lived in one of those neighborhoods, so I entered the flood zone and got to her house.

Before long, Ruth’s house and the cul-de-sac in front became an organizing center for Austin Common Ground Relief, which formed when activists started working together to support the flooded neighborhoods. We mobilized volunteers to gut homes, remove trash, provide hot meals, and distribute supplies to residents. We held holiday parties like a Thanksgiving Day dinner and Christmas party, giving away free bikes to all the kids. I also supported the residents in forming a neighborhood council and then a nonprofit, the Travis Austin Recovery Group, that was a legal structure allowing residents to raise desperately needed funds. Our work ensured that the residents were treated fairly in the city’s buy-out of their homes.

Another Austin campaign that I’m proud of is Undoing Racism Austin. In 2013 my friend Bay Love showed me a slideshow that blew my mind. He was doing an internship with the Center for Elimination of Disproportionality and Disparities, and under the leadership of Joyce James the center had hired the People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond to offer Undoing Racism trainings to caseworkers in Child Protective Services. Their pilot project in five counties showed that just attending an Undoing Racism training changed how the caseworkers saw their work, and the outcomes for Black kids—for all kids, in fact—improved in areas like kinship placement.2

Joy and Healing in Our Movements

I have greatly appreciated the book Joyful Militancy by Carla Bergman and Nick Montgomery, in which the writers analyze the types of toxicity in our movements and explore how we might embody joy and connection in our work. They explore the idea that the word freedom has the same Indo-European root as the word friendship: “I am free because I have ties!” We all have free will, and our connections help us feel our freedom. Perhaps this is why I love creative direct action. It requires action in the context of community, while it also requires conscious choice and self-responsibility. It provides us the support we need to willingly face what we fear most, with courage. If we are working in a good way, direct action will fill us with appreciation—appreciation we need to share, abundantly, as we enact a new world.

Today’s movements are becoming more aware of healing work; making us less willing to accept toxicity. We must create places and spaces that value empathy. We can build authentic relations that allow us to trust one another. We can develop mindful awareness in our groups, embracing moments of silence or meditation to connect with ourselves and with one another. We can practice somatic healing techniques in our groups. We can act with compassionate curiosity toward what is painful, exploring why things are the way they are, and how we would like it to be different. With greater trust, we can be more honest, knowing that it fuels our integrity—and when we act with integrity, we feel good about ourselves and one another. When we do harm, which we will inevitably do, we can make amends and learn to change the behaviors that do not serve us or others.

Soon after, a group of us came together forming Undoing Racism Austin, with a vision of training the community and then the city leadership and staff in the PISAB Undoing Racism trainings.3 We imagined the city of Austin as a leader in racial equity. We knew there was a lot of white liberal money, and we thought we could raise what we needed through house parties. At our first house party, one woman wrote a check for $8,000. Holy shit, we were on our way! In 2014 we rolled out five trainings, including one with two city council members and the mayor. We did a training with the Austin Independent School District. We did a training with Seton Family Health. We did a training with criminal justice groups.

Talking about racism had historically been taboo, but now it was becoming a regular feature of conversations, making its way into everyone’s analysis of the city’s problems. In one of our 2016 trainings, the police chief, the fire chief, two assistant police and fire chiefs, and two assistant city managers were in attendance. One of the assistant police chiefs later said, “Since the training, I’m seeing racism everywhere. I can’t put it back in the box.” Yes! We were chipping the armor, opening room for future work.

Parallel to Undoing Racism Austin, there were many new Black-led groups that formed, doing the heavy lifting of making the many problems caused by institutional racism a priority for the city. These groups include the Austin Justice Coalition, Black Lives Matter Austin, Black Sovereign Nation, Counter Balance, and a women-of-color-led coalition called Communities of Color United (CCU), which drove a landmark campaign that won an Equity Office and budget equity tool for the city. Over time, the White Caucus of Undoing Racism Austin renamed ourselves Undoing White Supremacy Austin and developed directly accountable relationships with several POC groups. In 2016 the Austin Justice Coalition, a Black-led group, began to organize more Undoing Racism trainings.

When Trump was inaugurated and communities in Austin were faced with an increase in hate crimes, raids, and deportations, we didn’t need to create an anti-racist movement. It was already there. Austin was once part of Mexico, so there are many Latinx people in the city, along with many more recent immigrant communities. There is a strong history of organizing that has only gathered strength in the Trump era. In 2017 and 2018, for example, a Latinx-led coalition—the Eastern Crescent Right to Stay—fought back and defeated a major land redevelopment initiative called CodeNEXT that would have allowed a whole new wave of gentrification, displacing even more Black and Brown people in Austin.

When white supremacists started showing up at protests carrying guns and swords, we faced them with courage and in solidarity. There have been actions by the KKK, the Proud Boys, the March Against Sharia, the Patriot Front, and Identity Evropa. They marched in Austin the same weekend as they did in Charlottesville.

Meanwhile, in 2017 a coalition of POC groups in Austin worked together to establish demands for the new police contract that was being negotiated by the city that included a demand for true police oversight and accountability. In December 2017 over three hundred attended a nine-hour special hearing, and we won: The city council rejected that contract.4 During the following year, Black leadership from the Austin Justice Coalition, among others, kept the pressure on, and in November 2018 a new police contract was approved, with all of the priority community demands included.

This was a major victory. Millions in funds were now available to support non-police services for public safety, and we won an independent Office of Police Oversight with some real teeth.5 Under the leadership of Kellee Coleman and Brion Oaks in the Equity Office, the city started organizing Undoing Racism workshops, with hundreds of city staff going through. Even the Austin Police Department has starting paying for these trainings! In February 2019 the city council approved funds for eleven Undoing Racism trainings per year for the next five years. The visions we had, the demands we made, are now coming true. And we know we must stay vigilant and keep pushing!

As I write these words, important battles are being fought—ones that must continue until justice is achieved. In 2018 the fight against Trump’s policy of family separation began on many fronts—in the courts, in the media, and in the streets. In June, with the leadership of the Women’s March, over a thousand women marched to the Department of Justice and then filled the atrium of the Hart Senate Office Building with our bodies and our hearts. We rang bells to signal the banner drops from the floors above us and then raised our hands. On our right hands we had written WE, and on our left, CARE. We opened a huge black banner on the floor that said FAMILIES BELONG TOGETHER IN FREEDOM. As the police approached, we sat down and covered our bodies with space blankets similar to what the children in detention had been given. We became a shimmering sea of resistance. A sea of women connected through a powerful sisterhood, singing, “Women gonna rise like the water, gonna shut detentions down, I hear the voice of my great-granddaughter, saying free all families now!”6

Over 630 women were arrested that day in the largest act of civil disobedience in the history of the Hart Building.7 This event fueled an even larger march the following Saturday, with over six hundred solidarity protests around the country.

Lisa training people in direct action at the US Capitol on the day of the Kavanaugh vote, November 2018. Courtesy of Kisha Bari.

OUT OF THE TOOLBOX

Manifestations of White Superiority

The manifestations of white superiority can be so subtle, but hugely impactful. Once seen, they can be changed. The ideas below originated with and are inspired by the lessons of the activist teachers Tema Okun and Kenneth Jones (a link to their workbook can be found in the resources). All of these are a result of our socialization into what I call our dominant culture of death, and thinking about these traits can offer insight into how white superiority has made us sick and harmed people who are not white. We live out these behaviors daily, believing that are natural.

OBJECTIVITY is praised over emotion, despite the fact that we are emotional beings, not linear machines. Our culture’s chronic devaluing of our subjective, lived experiences invalidates ourselves and others.

PERFECTIONISM can lead to apathy and paralysis. It can prevent us from acting because of the fear that we’re not good enough. It causes a lack of appreciation for others and low self-esteem as we believe that if we make a mistake, we are forever condemned.

SENSE OF URGENCY. This pervasive feeling makes us act without care as we override democracy and sacrifice the collective for individual actions. We take on more than we can do. We focus on quantity, not quality, valuing what we can measure or count as outcomes, rather than the process of creation and collaboration.

DEFENSIVENESS prevents us from being open to the perspective of others, leaving little room for growth and new ideas. We move toward either/or thinking and the dichotomies this creates—good/bad, right/wrong, us/them—centered on judgment instead of recognizing the and/both. We can be afraid to speak honestly. When we hide or lie, our shame and lack of integrity prevent our growth and the growth of others.

PATERNALISM fuels our entitlement to make decisions for other people, believing that we have the power, knowledge, and right to do so. We tend to think we know better, leading us to arrogance.

WORSHIP OF THE WRITTEN WORD leads us to believe there is only one right way as we value data and documentation over lived experience. We privilege those who can write or use the dominant language, limiting acknowledgment of the variety of perspectives that actually exist.

POWER HOARDING is based on a scarcity mentality and greed. It is a powerfully destructive trait of our culture that fuels competition, entitlement, criticism, and fear of open conflict. We constrict instead of expand, leading to disconnection and distancing.

RIGHT TO COMFORT. I believe it is our right to comfort that leads white people to call the police when a person of color (seen as a threat) is in their neighborhood. It also leads to a sense of fragility and helplessness and causes people to get angry if another person is rocking the boat. We don’t like when people raise up issues or problems; after all, we hold the belief that we can, and must, do everything ourselves. This destroys our ability to work cooperatively and propels competition to prove we are better.

INDIVIDUALISM makes it difficult to work with others, instead desiring attention, recognition, and credit. We can become unaccountable and isolated from the very people who can help us and keep us honest. We are social beings and we need one another to fulfill our potential. Individualism keeps us stuck and disconnected from the sense of belonging, a basic human need.

PROGRESS IS BIGGER, MORE, AND BETTER. This mentality leads to the destruction of our planet through greed—our misguided desire to have more and more. It is what underlies consumerism and materialism and has created an insatiable desire for things we actually do not need, as we march forever forward unto death. The desire for more explains why storage space is the most valuable real estate today. Growth and evolution are part of life, but change does not mean “more.” I like to remind myself that we already have everything we need!

Months later, in September, many of the same women hit the streets again to oppose the nomination and then the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. We filled the halls of the Senate for weeks. We marched in the hallways, occupied legislators’ offices, blocked streets, and disrupted hearings. On the day of his confirmation, we outran the police to take the Capitol steps. Outside and inside the capitol building, we disrupted the vote from the Senate Galleries, yelling at the top of our lungs for justice. I was proud to be one of the women arrested in the gallery that day.

At the end of 2018, I participated in a strategic mobilization that focused on exposing something the government wanted hidden. In Tornillo, Texas, over twenty-five hundred children were still being imprisoned. A weeklong encampment called Christmas in Tornillo—The Occupation was planned to make sure the children being detained knew they were not alone, forgotten, or abandoned. The idea for an occupation grew out of a visit by Latinx women, including my friend Elizabeth Vega from Ferguson, who watched as white folks with a group called Witness Tornillo became buddies with the Homeland Security people, at times even thanking them. The women were outraged by this and knew that witnessing Tornillo was not enough.

Christmas in Tornillo became a camp dedicated to artistic resistance and focused on assisting the asylum seekers who were being dumped by Homeland Security at the bus station in El Paso on Christmas Eve.8 Many of our siblings from the South had no coats, shoes, food, water, or money. Emergency shelters were set up, food was prepared, medical people donated their time, and thousands of dollars in community money were raised to house and transport people to sponsor families.

Back at the detention center, the resistance continued, with stilt walkers, giant puppets, and soccer balls with messages in Spanish being thrown over the wall to the children. On New Year’s Eve a Christmas tree was made from slashed water jugs and mock tear gas canisters. The angel on top was a photo of Jakelin Maquin, the young Guatemalan girl who died from dehydration and septic shock in Homeland Security custody. The same water jugs were later used to shut down the entrance to the detention center, blocking five buses of workers from entering on New Year’s Eve. These actions in Tornillo were built with Indigenous, Latinx, Black, Muslim, and white organizers, including elders, children, and a sweet, beautiful baby.9

Soon after the Christmas action, the Trump administration announced that the Tornillo child camp was closing. This was a small victory, but the road ahead is long. Many children were sent to sponsor homes, but many more are being moved to a child detention camp in Florida. The reports from this new prison are not good, and the adult camp in Tornillo is still open. In January 2019 the administration revealed that thousands more immigrant children had been separated from their families than previously reported.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that we must continue to fight this. Even as I write, people are using social media in an act of love to raise money to buy ladders to help our Latinx siblings get over. All the money raised will go to RAICES, the Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services, which provides free or low-cost legal services to immigrant families and children. Over Valentine’s Day 2019 the Occupation group returned to Tornillo, while Indigenous leaders have established new camps along the Texas border to oppose Trump’s monument to white supremacy—the wall.

Injustice existed long before Trump. He, like all of us, is a product of our sick culture. His sad life and toxicity remind us of the importance of building an alternative culture, one that rests upon the pillars of community and love. If you take one lesson from this book, I hope it is the understanding that resistance is not just about fighting against injustice, but for justice. It is a process of dismantling what no longer serves us, but also of building something better, which requires everyday intention.

No matter who is in power, or how difficult life may seem, we can choose to focus on the everyday beauty of the natural and human worlds. We can be open to learn. Nature is our greatest teacher, if we pay attention. Birds flocking, lion prides, herds of horses, and the schooling of fish teach us the power of moving together as a group. They teach us there is not one leader, but many. We might see a flower blooming and be reminded of how a simple seed takes root, or see a weed cracking through the concrete and be reminded that seemingly strong barriers can be broken through. The roots of trees go down, weaving together, reminding us we are all interconnected, just like the running mycelia send information across the land. The laughter of children can fill us with joy, reminding us of the importance of playing in times of ease, and in challenging times as well.

We are so lucky to be alive. We are on this planet to evolve, to fulfill our potential, to love ourselves and one another, and to be of service to the greater good. What could possibly be better than that? I appreciate you taking the time to read this book. I am grateful to all who helped me birth it, and I hope you have found something here that will be useful as you create the life and the world you want for yourself and others. So mote it be!