This book has been one of the greatest challenges of my life. Ever since I was young, my dyslexia, along with school papers filled with correction marks on grammar, spelling, and punctuation, deterred me from thinking that writing was possible for me. My work as an organizer taught me that I’m a good communicator, but that early lack of confidence left its mark. Over the years I tried to write accounts of some of my experiences, but I questioned myself, thinking, What could I possibly have to say? Who cares what I think! So my folder of half-written pieces continued to grow.
As the years passed, more people were saying, “You need to write a book.” Yeah, right! But the requests kept coming. I started to see that people were writing about historical moments that I myself had lived through. They were the experts, but they had not been there to see it all firsthand.
I’m not concerned about being an expert, but I realized I had a unique perspective, and it wasn’t fair to keep it to myself. Still, I resisted. I told myself that I didn’t need to write a book because I taught people through my trainings—and that was a lot of people! One day I was talking to my friend Laurie Arbeiter, and she said, “Lisa, only so many people can attend your trainings. Many more could access your book. People learn in different ways, and a book is just another vehicle to share what you have learned.” Laurie is a wise friend, and I listened to her advice.
In the summer of 2011, I wrote a fifty-six-page manual called Kicking Corporate Booty for the staff of the New Bottom Line campaign. I thought about turning these lessons into a book, so in 2012 I took a year’s sabbatical to expand Kicking Corporate Booty and to heal my body, mind, and spirit from years of injury and trauma. As I wrote, I saw that the manual needed to have stories and some theory to support my lessons. But it was hard for me to be away from movement life, and in 2013 I became involved with initiatives to fight for reproductive rights and against racism in Austin, Texas, where I have lived since 2002. I also participated in efforts to help the people of Austin after some catastrophic flooding in the area. Needless to say, my attention to the book was challenged. Flood Wall Street happened. Ferguson happened. Standing Rock happened. The year of my father happened, which ended with his passing in September 2015.
The year I thought it would take to write a book became years. The manuscript I finally completed was not great, but with the help of a skilled editor, Katherine Don, I set about significantly rewriting and restructuring the material. Katherine said, “Lisa, you have written yourself out of the book. You are the protagonist. People will want to know your story!” Right—but years of PTSD had stripped a lot of sensory perceptions from my memory, and there was an overwhelming amount of life experiences to choose from. My first manuscript came in at 180,000 words! Yikes. Much was cut out, and important tidbits ended up in the endnotes. The process of writing, rewriting, and deletions reminded me of something Abbie Hoffman once told me, “Not all great ideas need to be implemented.” Not all stories need to be told. But some do, and I hope this book contains the stories that will be of use and that needed to be told.
I have also been keenly aware that I’m a white woman who has had the privilege of supporting many POC struggles, some of which are written about in this book. I have worked hard to show up in a good way in those struggles and in how I write about them. My efforts are to honor the work and bring to life the wisdom and lessons that were offered. For those of you who lived these struggles, things may be left out, or not as you remember. If I got something wrong, please forgive me. I am so grateful to my dear friends Remy, Vega, and Laurie for their words of wisdom about all of this, accepting that this book will not be perfect.
I have been humbled by this work and excited that it has come to fruition. May it ignite your imagination. May it inspire you to organize and act against oppression and injustice. May it convince you to love and care for yourself and others. Most of all, may it offer you hope that the power of the people to create and to resist with love in our hearts really can change the world. To paraphrase Margaret Mead, it is the only thing that ever has.