Radiating Feminism: Resilience Practices toTransform Our Inner and Outer Lives 9780367222529, 9780367231460

Table of contents :
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Table of contents
Practices
Acknowledgements
1 Introduction: Creating a More Just World
Introduction: Creating a More Just World
Turbulent Times
Why Mindful and Embodied Feminisms?
The Value and Complexity of Mindfulness
Embodying Our Values
The Messiness Is the Work
Yes, and …
A Note about the Use of “We”
How to Use this Book
Notes
References
2 Embodying Our Feminism
Embodying Our Feminism
Self-Reflection
What Kind of Transformation Do We Want?
Honoring the Process
When Our Default Practices Become Barriers to Transformation
The Discomfort of Change
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
3 Oppression, Trauma, and Embodied Healing
Oppression, Trauma, and Embodied Healing
Oppression as Trauma
What Happens When Trauma Is Unresolved?
Cultivating Individual and Collective Resilience
Cultivating Resilience
When We’re Still In It
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
4 Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice
Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice
The Imposter Syndrome
But Why These Messages?
Idealizing the Dominant Group
Healing from Internalized Oppression
When Individual Tools Are Not Enough
Recognizing Gaslighting
Connecting to Heal
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
5 Navigating the In-Between
Navigating the In-Between
Code Switching
Give Ourselves Some Credit
Critique vs. Protection
A Word about “Safe Spaces” and “Women-Only Spaces”
Reclaiming Wholeness
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
6 Recognizing and Dismantling Embodied Privilege
Recognizing and Dismantling Embodied Privilege
Shifting from Gut Reactions to Intentional Responses
The Dissonance of Disrupting Privilege
Working with Our Embodied Reactions
Resistance/Dissonance and the Complexity of Privilege and Marginalization
Intersectionality and the Complexity of Belonging
When We Cause Harm
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Note
References
7 What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?
What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?
Who Is an Ally?
Ally or Accomplice?
When Allies Disappoint
When Trust Is Shaken
How We Work Toward Social Transformation
When Mentors Disappoint
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
References
8 How to Have Difficult Conversations about Social Justice Issues
How to Have Difficult Conversations about Social Justice Issues
What Do I Mean by “Difficult Conversations”?
Where Are People Entering the Conversation?
It’s Not about Logic
When We Are Triggered
The Messiness Is the Work
Basic Tips for Engaging Difficult Conversations
A Word about Calling Out
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
9 On Anger and Love
On Anger and Love
Getting Familiar with Our Anger
Who Is Allowed Anger
When We Are Targets of Anger
What’s Love Got to Do with It?
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Notes
References
10 Feminist Burnout and Sustainability
Feminist Burnout and Sustainability
“Making Movement Work Healing Work”
Tips for Sustainably Living Your Feminism
Handling Burnout When We Are in Its Throes
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
Note
References
11 Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow
Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow
When Change Is Slow
1. Backlash Is Very Common after Social Gains
2. Celebrate All Victories, No Matter How Small
3. Think Local AND Have a Long Game
4. Find a Way to Do Work That Is Joyful and Healing
5. Learn about the Amazing Work Being Done in the World
6. Find Hope, Strength, and Solace in Those Who Have Come before Us
7. Support Those Who Will Come after Us
Be Gentle with Our Despair
Resilience Support Kit to Heal Despair
Speaking of Hope
Filling Your Well
A Word about the Spiritual
Practicing Rituals of Interconnection and Wisdom
Resilience Practices in Feminist Action
References
12 Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change
Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change
Living Contradictions, Living the Question
Many Paths to Justice
What Do We Mean by Justice?
Staying True to Our Vision … and Continuing to Adapt
Radiating Feminism Is Both a Practice and a Journey
Note
References
Index

Citation preview

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Radiating Feminism is timely, grounded, and invites readers to explore themselves: what motivates them, how they respond to adversity, and how to heal. You will want to delve into the practices alone or with a group, to store them away for difficult moments when you need them most. —​Wendy E. Shaia, Clinical Associate Professor and Executive Director of the Social Work Community Outreach Service at the University of Maryland School of Social Work Like feminism itself, this book is justice-​ oriented and applied, complex but accessible, critically conscious, and reflective. It simultaneously challenges dominant narratives while nurturing new visions of an embodied, mindful, and conscious feminist future.This book guides readers towards living their feminism: staying grounded in the realities of injustice while embodying the path into collective liberation. —​Tessa Hicks Peterson, Affiliated Faculty Member of Gender and Feminist Studies and Assistant Vice President, Community Engagement at Pitzer College This book brings alive rich connections between feminist thought and mindfulness. It’s personal and reflective, theoretically rich, and provides concrete practices for embodying and enacting our feminist values. Readers are invited to journey toward purposeful social action for individual and collective transformation. —​Beth S. Catlett, Associate Professor and Chair at the Department of Women’s and Gender Studies and Director, Faculty Scholarship Support Center, DePaul University

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Radiating Feminism

Radiating Feminism: Resilience Practices to Transform Our Inner and Outer Lives is a practical guide to embodying feminist principles not just in our politics, but also in our very ways of being. Bringing together intersectional feminism with mindful reflection and embodied practice this book offers practical wisdom for living by feminist principles in our daily lives. Each chapter includes practices, and interactive activities to help navigate common challenges along feminist journeys. The book also draws on wisdom from feminist leaders and contemporary conversations from social justice movements. Both inspiring and guiding, the book will provide readers with the skills to cultivate resilience to face the many barriers to feminist social transformation. Radiating Feminism will be of use to students of Gender Studies, Social Work, Psychology, Community Health, and the Social Sciences, as well as anyone with a longstanding or fresh commitment to feminism and social justice. Beth Berila is the Director of the Gender and Women’s Studies Program, Professor in the Ethnic, Gender, and Women’s Studies Department at St. Cloud State University, and author of Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-​Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education.

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Radiating Feminism Resilience Practices to Transform Our Inner and Outer Lives Beth Berila

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First published 2021 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Taylor & Francis The right of Beth Berila to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data A catalog record for this title has been requested ISBN: 978-​0-​367-​22252-​9  (hbk) ISBN: 978-​0-​367-​23146-​0  (pbk) ISBN: 978-​0-​429-​27844-​0  (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Newgen Publishing UK

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For all the feminist students with whom I have worked and from whom I have learned. So much gratitude.You inspire me and give me hope.

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Contents

List of Practices  Acknowledgements  1 Introduction: Creating a More Just World 

x xii 1

2 Embodying Our Feminism 

17

3 Oppression, Trauma, and Embodied Healing 

35

4 Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice 

52

5 Navigating the In-​Between 

70

6 Recognizing and Dismantling Embodied Privilege 

85

7 What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? 

102

8 How to Have Difficult Conversations about Social Justice Issues 

120

9 On Anger and Love 

137

10 Feminist Burnout and Sustainability 

153

11 Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow 

170

12 Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change 

185

Index 

199

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Practices

1.1 1.2 1.3 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 3.1 3.2 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 5.1 5.2 5.3 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 7.1 7.2 7.3 8.1 8.2 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 10.1 10.2

Imagining Liberation  Defining Your Feminism  Centering and Grounding  Self-​Reflection Check-​In  Crafting Your Feminist Commitment  Moving from Gut Reaction to Intentional Response  How Have You Been Shaped?  Cultivating Ongoing Self-​Awareness  Anchoring in the Present Moment: Orienting, Grounding, Centering, and Breath  Recognizing Your “Shoulds”  Exploring the Embodied Imprint of Our “Shoulds”  Playing a Different Tape  Web of Community  How Do We Show Up in Our Communities?  Cultivating Wholeness  Embodied Code Switching  Sitting with Discomfort  Reflecting on Our Embodied Reactions to Being Called Out  Aligning Our Responses with Our Commitments When Called Out  Practicing Attentive Listening  Expectations of Allies  Working with Expectations, Trust, and Betrayal with Allies  Our Trust of Others and Others’ Trust of Us  A Shield of Protection  Reflecting on a Difficult Conversation: Did Our Actions Align with Our Commitment?  Understanding Our Anger  Anger Check-​In  The Wisdom of Our Anger  Practicing Love  Recognizing How Oppositional Energy Manifests  Discerning Our Primary Social Justice Commitments 

1 4 9 21 23 27 28 37 44 52 58 60 66 73 79 80 87 90 94 98 103 109 113 123 127 137 140 141 147 156 157

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Practices  xi 10.3 Our Go-​To Healing Practices  10.4 Discerning Between Life-​Affirming and Energy-​Depleting Practices  10.5 Shifting What and How We Practice  11.1 Reminder of What Motivates You to Work for Justice  11.2 Filling Your Well  11.3 Creating a Daily Ritual  12.1 Reflecting on How You Might Be Changing  12.2 What Contradictions Do You Live?  12.3 Directing Your Energies to Your Passions  12.4 Visioning Time Travel 

159 161 164 178 179 183 187 189 193 196

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Acknowledgements

Special thanks to all the people who provided feedback and support on earlier drafts of this book: Hala Khouri, M.A., Dianne Bondy, ERYT-500, LeeRay Costa, Ph.D., Hisae Matsuda, and Michele Tracy Berger, Ph.D. Gratitude to Kakali Bhattacharya, Ph.D. for leading her writing retreat at Zion National Park (and to all the amazing participants who also attended), where the first words of this book were penned. Special thanks also to my wife, Amy Boland, for her love and support.

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1  Introduction Creating a More Just World Beth Berila

Introduction: Creating a More Just World What kind of world do you long for? What does freedom look and feel like to you? To your communities? Is there music? Dance? A smell or a taste? Take some time to imagine it. Write or draw out a few words/​images that invoke that possibility for you. Really focus on your longing for that world. Where does it live in your body? Is it in your heart center? Your throat center (the seat of your voice)? Do you open and lean toward it or armor and brace yourself? Does any part of you say that world is impossible? Where does that skepticism live (in your head, maybe?) Notice it but invite it to pause for a moment while you explore your longing for a better world. Now time travel. Go a hundred, a thousand years out.What does liberation feel like then? How do we relate to one another? Know that people around you who are working towards justice are also imagining better worlds. Their worlds may have some commonalities with yours and some differences; but, as the Zapatistas note,“The world we want is one where many worlds fit” (qtd. in Brown 2017, 155). Intersectional feminism demands it, as our different positionalities on the power axes of race, class, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, dis/​ability, national identity, immigrant status, religion, culture, and so on create different experiences, needs, and possibilities (Crenshaw 1991). A truly just world will weave together all those diverse visions, navigate tensions between them, and create space for those differences. As Adrienne Maree Brown so eloquently notes in her book, Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds, “it is the freedom we are longing for, which will never be given to us, which we have to create, the pulsating life force of the collective body we are birthing, the rhythm of a shared heart” (2017, 196).

PRACTICE 1.1  Imagining Liberation What does that better world look like to you? Write it, draw it, paint it, sing it, and/​or dance it. What are its principle values? How do people relate to each other across differences in that world? What do our daily lives look

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2  Introduction: Creating a More Just World like in that world? Set a timer for 15 minutes and create—​with no voices of “that’s not possible.” Let your imagination tap into that connection with the vibration of a better world. Dream. Hold that vision in your heart. Come back to it when things get hard. Compare your vision to that of other people in your community and create a collage of your combined visions. Have community dialogues about what needs to happen in order to create that world. Remind yourself of this vision every day when you get out of bed. Hold your actions accountable to that vision.

Together, this visioning creates a collective pulsation as we all work towards liberation, doing our work to “transform yourself to transform the world,” in the words of the great Grace Lee Boggs (qtd. in Brown 2017, 53). What if that pulsation does beat like a collective heart, adaptable and large enough to include all of our individual hearts in a web of interdependence and connection? How can that support us as we work to create the justice we want? This book offers practices and insights for the arc of feminist experience: those days when we can almost touch that better world and are inspired to create bridges to it, and those days when we can barely get out of bed because of the pain of oppression—​that directly affecting us and that targeting others in our community. If you are committed to social justice, chances are you have experienced—​or will experience—​both ends of that spectrum and everything in between. It’s part of the feminist journey. In my over 20  years of teaching first Women’s Studies and now Gender and Women’s Studies1 at two different universities, I  have worked with hundreds of students who have navigated this journey. I  have also worked with community organizers and colleagues who are on their own social justice journey, and I have reflected deeply on my own path.This book highlights several common themes that people face along that journey, offering insights from intersectional feminist social justice warriors and embodied reflection practices to help guide us along our way. We aren’t in this alone and we don’t have to recreate the wheel. People have forged the path before us and can offer us a hand. Some of the wisdom will resonate with you, some probably won’t—​there’s no book that is going to speak to everyone all the time. But getting clear on what doesn’t resonate with you and what you need instead can be just as important as leaning into what does. I see this book as a guide to help you build your resources, so that you can cultivate the capacity and resilience to intentionally navigate your feminist journey.

Turbulent Times There is such a profound certainty and hope when we can touch into a connection to a better world. Not a certainty as in we know how things will play out, but a certainty that justice will prevail—​eventually—​and that our actions towards it matter, however seemingly small. But that connection sometimes seems tenuous at times.

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  3 It takes intentionality and regular practice to nourish it, along with a clear feminist social justice vision to create the conditions to manifest that better world. Sometimes the connection is so faint it is almost elusive. I am writing this book during the first couple of years of Donald Trump’s administration. Since he took office, there has been daily public outrage at the actions of his administration: his (mis)handling of the Coronavirus pandemic, the internment of migrants, including children, in “detention centers” under deplorable conditions, the Islamophobia behind the “travel” ban, the dismantling of the Affordable Care Act, the anti-​labor court rulings, the assaults on women’s reproductive rights, the anti-​Semitic attack at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, and the repeals of much of the progress made under President Obama’s administration. Alongside all this has been a rise in hateful rhetoric and violent action toward some of the most marginalized communities, including Muslims, people of color, immigrants, Jewish communities, women, people who are living with disabilities, and LGBTQAI+ communities. In this context, fear, anger, and outrage are justifiably high. Simultaneously, volcanos are erupting in Hawaii, wiping out homes and livelihoods. Flint, Michigan still doesn’t have clean water, while Nestlé and other corporations are privatizing water around the world, making it unaffordable and unavailable to those who need it. Oil pipelines and telescopes are being built on Indigenous land despite the staunch protests of those communities. Wildfires are consuming the Amazon forest and parts of Australia at terrifying rates. The threat of nuclear weapons grows. The list goes on. While these injustices have taken on a new dimension, those of us grounded in social justice know that none of this is new. Today’s horrors are extensions of long-​standing patterns of oppression. Many people have been swimming in such despair that they feel immobilized. The urgency seems to come from all fronts. There is no time to rest and regroup. Where is that better world, some think? What can we possibly do that will make a difference? How can we even see our way to productive action when we are drowning in rage and despair? And yet. Every day I go to campus and work with some of the brightest, most visionary and inspired feminist students, people who WILL make a change against all odds. Simultaneously, the Black Lives Matter movement is founded in love and a celebration of Black life in the face of ongoing violence towards Black communities. The #NoDAPL movement at Standing Rock took on big business, environmental racism, colonization, and the government in order to reclaim Indigenous land and live out a relationship to the Earth as a living, breathing organism that we need to honor, not own. Hundreds of lawyers camped out in airports to help people resist the oppressive travel ban that targets Muslims and immigrants. Muslim communities came together with Jewish communities to support and heal after the attack at the Tree of Life synagogue in 2018. LGBTQAI+ communities refused to be used in an Islamophobic divide and conquer strategy after the massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. These actions are deeply inspiring and influential, reminding us that our voices matter and that transformation is possible. It happens on a smaller scale, too, this pulsation towards a better world. Community  gardens are cultivated in areas with food insecurity. Young

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4  Introduction: Creating a More Just World people gather  diverse books, like eleven-​ year-​ old Marley Dias and her #1000BlackGirlBooks, or they write their own books when their stories are not told. Transformative Justice and Healing Justice efforts thrive in communities. Daily acts of kindness towards fellow human beings that we refuse to hate despite the constant messages that tell us we should. These are all examples of what Grace Lee Boggs describes when she writes that to create this better world, [w]‌e can begin by doing small things at the local level, like planting community gardens or looking out for our neighbors.That is how change takes place in living systems, not from above but from within, from many local actions occurring simultaneously. (Boggs 2007) THIS is the world I want to inhabit: the one that we work daily to invite and create. For that to happen, we need to maintain our connection to that vision of the better world. This is a living, breathing feminism: both dynamic and organic, existing in our very beings and in our connections with one another. In order to help us fully radiate our feminism through all aspects of our lives, this book will integrate feminist principles with mindful, embodied practices. Intersectional feminism challenges us to examine how our complex identities make some of us disproportionately vulnerable to oppression or privilege and position us in complex power dynamics with one another. We have to account for these dynamics if we are to create that better world. Embodied resilience practices can help maintain a lifeline to our vision of hope by offering ways to deepen self-​awareness and compassion while helping us be more centered in the present moment. Radiating Feminism offers ways to embody our values in our speech, our behaviors, our ways of relating with one another, and our very breath. Together, they help us birth more empowering alternatives. This book will also explore some of the pitfalls and challenges along the way, offering insights from my own journey through feminism as well as my years of experience teaching Gender & Women’s Studies with numerous college students, along with words of wisdom from feminists who have gone before. Throughout our journey together, I offer practices that we can integrate into our daily lives to help us really radiate our feminism through all the cells of our being and all the facets of our lives, our actions, and our communities. The journey is rich and full of hope. It requires the unique gifts of each and every one of us.

PRACTICE 1.2  Defining Your Feminism This is a good place for you to define your feminism. What does it mean to you? Who are your inspirations for it? What do you see as the major sources of oppression and the best paths towards liberation? Are you interested in equality, equity, justice, liberation, or all of them? What issues are you most committed to and why? What ignited your feminism?

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  5 After getting clear on your own sense of feminism, connect it to those around you. Where does yours resonate with the visions in your community and where does it differ? Are those differences tensions to be navigated? Threads to be woven together?

Why Mindful and Embodied Feminisms? How can mindfulness and feminism work together? For me, it seems a natural fit. I had been teaching GWS for years and trying to live my feminism (which is always evolving) for longer. Each semester, I see amazing students find language in GWS courses for what they have been thinking and feeling. They learn to name their gut sense that things are just not right with the world.They cultivate a deeper analysis of what produces those conditions.They strengthen their voices and find a community of likeminded people.They laugh and cry.They become intellectually and politically empowered. And these same fierce feminists often struggle to fully embody the beliefs they hold in healthy, holistic ways. Even the sassiest students can be in abusive relationships, struggle with eating disorders or addictions, or demean themselves with negative self-​talk. Sometimes, this split happens from one sentence to the next. Add to that the exhaustion that comes from meeting every fight (and framing it as a battle), showing up so fully and so consistently without a break and without any nourishing and healing practices that can cultivate resilience and sustainability. Maybe some of this sounds familiar. I began to wonder … what is missing? What could allow for a more holistic empowerment? This, by the way, is very similar to my own trajectory to feminism all those years ago. I found feminism in college. My very first college class was with the resident Marxist feminist in the economics department at the state university I attended. I  walked into class a smart, overachieving, sheltered, white, middle-​class young woman; he walked into the class in skin-​tight leather pants, snakeskin cowboy boots, a ponytail, and a radical feminist philosophy.That man rocked my world. He is the reason I became a professor. From him, I took classes like the “Feminization of Poverty,” which is one of the first places I learned about systemic oppression. As a white, then-​heterosexual (I now identify as queer), cisgender woman growing up in the suburbs of Ohio, I believed in equality but until those classes had no real analysis of power or a sense of how justice differed from equality. My identities located me in the “dominant” group in many ways, but I  also grew up in a union family with a nascent class consciousness. My mother raised me as a single mom for the first several years of my life, and we struggled financially. We became much more economically secure when she met and married my stepfather (whom I consider my father). Both my parents were from blue-​collar, working-​class families. Overall, my childhood was economically middle class, but with strong working-​class and union underpinnings. That was the ground on which my college classes harvested a feminism grounded in structural analysis of oppression. My first official college Women’s Studies class was called “Decolonizing Feminism,” in which we read Chandra

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6  Introduction: Creating a More Just World Talpade Mohanty’s canonical essay, “Under Western Eyes,” while watching the televised Anita Hill/​ Clarence Thomas hearings.2 I  came to feminist studies through a transnational and intersectional feminist lens. By the time I graduated college, I was a full-​blown feminist. My doctorate program in Syracuse, New  York deepened my understanding of intersectionality while also challenging me to constantly examine my own positionality and exposing me to a great deal of community activism in the region. As I studied the writings by feminists of color, I examined my own position as a white woman in white supremacist society. I also came out as queer during that time, and launched right into activism around trans-​r ights. The vibrant community activism in the area taught me a great deal about social change in complex communities. I still examine these questions every day, and my answers continue to evolve. This book is framed through the work of many women of color feminists who have shaped not only my feminist journey but the work of feminism and social justice more broadly. As a white feminist, I  have a responsibility to engage in ongoing reflection and accountability of where I get privilege and how I engage this work. At the same time, to not infuse an intersectional analysis in all my feminism is, I believe, a failure to address how power dynamics shape us in different ways. The questions and issues that intersectional feminists of color have raised are central to feminism, so it is my responsibility to center their work while also examining my privilege in relation to it. These conversations, learnings, and reflections have been incredibly inspiring over the years. But they did not always resolve (and sometimes even exacerbated) some of the impacts of oppression and internalized oppression on me. I  lost relationships, connection, and belonging to homophobia when I  came out, for instance. Even while I  advocated justice, I  still struggled with deeply held internalized oppression—​negative self-​talk that regularly demoralized me and kept me from full empowerment. I landed in a psychologically abusive relationship and have suffered from incapacitating shame and anxiety attacks. I kept returning to that question: What could allow for a more holistic empowerment? By my thirties, I  was regularly doing yoga and meditation. I  began to find some of the answers there.Those practices helped me explore and hold insights in my body and my heart, not just my intellect. They offered tools to more deeply unearth the toxic messages I had internalized from the wider culture and instead provided glimpses of what a compassionate, kind, and strong community could look like.That was the beginning of my integration of both mindfulness and feminism, which has steadily deepened and expanded in subsequent years. I should say here that I do not think of mindfulness, including yoga and meditation, as a “silver bullet” or a quick fix. They are not the right fit for everyone. I  choose to use the word mindfulness here in order to cast a broader net that includes a variety of practices that can enhance embodied awareness of the present moment, including but not limited to Tai Chi, Qigong, journaling, yoga, time in nature, gardening, cooking, singing, dancing, walking in nature, and so on (Center for Contemplative Mind in Society n.d.). Just about any activity can be done mindfully if it is done with full attention and intentionality. Listening to

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  7 music and texting while walking to class is probably not a mindful activity. But paying full attention to your breath, your thoughts, your emotions and physicality, while observing the sounds, sights, and smells on your way to class—​that can be a mindful activity. Some mindfulness practices are embedded in ancient lineages (and depending on our cultural relationship to those practices, we can run the risk of cultural appropriation; more on this later in the chapter)—​but some aren’t. I invite you to find ones that speak to your heart, body, mind, and spirit.You can then explore them more deeply.

The Value and Complexity of Mindfulness Mindfulness practices help us be in the present moment, meet whatever arises with curiosity, become very familiar with our tendencies/​patterns, and cultivate compassion for self and others (Siegel 2007). Mindfulness can help us recognize and unearth harmful social conditioning about ourselves and others, heal from the violence of injustice, and tap into our fierce strength and authenticity. It can also help us choose to respond rather than react (Magee 2019; King 2018; williams, Owens, and Syedullah 2016; Berila 2016). When combined with feminism, it can help us more fully embody the path to liberation—​radiating that possibility throughout our bodies, our hearts, our spirits, our intellect, and our voice. I use the term mindfulness because it is well-​recognized and because it can include a vast variety of practices. However, the term is not without its problems. The centering of the term “mind” in mindful, for one thing, still can be seen as perpetuating the Cartesian mind/​body split, especially given the current emphasis on Western science to “validate” the effects of practices that ancient philosophies, such as Buddhism and yoga, have long known to work. In his beautiful book, From Mindfulness to Heartfulness: Transforming Self and Society with Compassion, Dr. Stephen Murphy-​Shigematsu has offered an alternative framing (2018). Heartfulness, he suggests, offers “an expansive sense of living with openness and clarity, being true to ourselves, acting in sympathy with all beings, resonating with and being part of the world around us” (15). Unlike a great deal of contemporary mainstream Western mindfulness movements, this approach does not stay at the individual level or remain primarily focused on lowering stress in our modern, fast-​paced, capitalistic world. Instead, Murphy-​Shigematsu writes, “Living in a state of heartfulness means listening to one’s heart, to one’s inner voice, affecting our relationship with ourselves as well as our relationships with our family, with our work, and with the larger world” (2018, 17). Heartfulness, for Murphy-​Shigematsu, includes beginner’s mind, vulnerability, authenticity, connectedness, listening, acceptance, gratitude, and service (2018). This notion of heartfulness is a beautiful and moving concept/​practice, and it puts words to some of the differences between how I practice mindfulness and how the mainstream popular mindfulness movement enacts it. I situate mindfulness in the context of the wider world and hold it accountable for addressing injustice. I understand it as both an individual and a collective practice that requires some of the principles Murphy-​Shigematsu outlines above. Though the term mindfulness is not ideal, I am going to stick with it throughout this book so as to keep it

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8  Introduction: Creating a More Just World open to a variety of traditions, practices, and cultures. As you read, you may find yourself connecting with practices from your own ancestors and communities, at which point you may prefer to adopt a different, more appropriate word for how you radiate your feminism. Go with it. There is also a tendency to secularize mindfulness. While this strategy has its place, as it can help mindfulness be available to people from a variety of religious traditions, it also runs the risk of removing practices from their cultural, philosophical, and spiritual contexts. This risk is particularly harmful because some of these practices come from peoples who have been colonized. When a people’s practices have been taken from them, when they have been barred from practicing them and even punished for doing so, when some of the roots of the traditions have been lost, and then those same practices are distorted, taken out of context, and sold back to them by people in the colonizer culture, the violence is compounded. This colonial legacy is rampant in the U.S. yoga world (Barkataki 2019; Berila, Klein, and Jackson Roberts 2016). As feminists, we need to be both critically conscious of our own positionality in relation to the practices we adopt and be responsible for when and how we engage them.While these questions and considerations are not as widespread in mindfulness circles as I would like them to be, they are central to social justice circles (and to groups that are integrating the two). I continually reflect on my own positionality as a white woman in the West in relation to the practices I engage and/​or teach, and quite honestly, my answers to the questions continue to evolve. As you explore mindfulness, yoga, or other practices, it is important to honor the lineages and traditions from which they emerge and critically examine your own positionality in relation to them. Are the practices coming from your own ancestral traditions? If not, what is the relationship between your people (whoever they are) and those who created and practice those traditions? Are there histories of colonization there? Who are the current teachers and leaders of those traditions? For instance, if we look at the mainstream U.S.  yoga world, we can see many more famous white teachers than we see South Asian teachers, and the same is true for the students in many yoga studios. What does that say about who profits from yoga? Is the way something is practiced honoring the depth and roots of a tradition, or is it cherry-​picked and misrepresented? These questions and others are important to examine if we are to really embody our feminism—​it is our responsibility to continually examine these questions as we engage different practices. There are also other concerns about integrating mindfulness and feminism. Many mindfulness practices focus on the breath, in part because it is the anchor of our life force and it is always available to us. We can work with its energy to calm and ground ourselves, or it can run away without us. (There’s a reason people tell us to take deep breaths when we are upset or anxious. Physiologically, deep breaths typically have a calming effect.) And yet, those of us concerned about social justice issues might feel like focusing on the breath is a luxury that many don’t have.That some mindfulness practices are too “woo-​woo” and not really working for the concrete changes that are required for people to survive, much less thrive. While that critique is absolutely true of some mindfulness movements, it is also true that

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  9 learning to ground and center ourselves can have a profound impact on the work we do and on how we show up in community. The Buddhist monk and peace activist, Thich Nhat Hanh, has said that one grounded person on a refugee boat had a profound impact on the desperation and fear of those fleeing persecution. We center not in place of the wider work, but so that we can come to the wider work with our best possible selves. We do this embodied work so that we can heal ourselves as we do the external work of healing our communities. We need all levels, and it is a mutually reinforcing process.

PRACTICE 1.3  Centering and Grounding Ground yourself firmly on the Earth. Maybe rock side to side and back and forth until your weight is evenly distributed in the center.You can have your shoes on or off, be standing, or sitting. Bring your knees over your ankles, keeping a small bend in your knees. Align your hips over your knees, extend up through your torso and heart, bringing your shoulders on your back and widening across your heart center. Extend up through the crown of your head.This can happen physically and/​ or energetically. Now soften into that centered posture. As you inhale, imagine drawing energy up from the Earth through your feet, your calves, your hips, and into your navel center, two inches below your belly button. That is your center, the seat of your fire. Social justice leaders need our fire to dismantle oppressive structures and move us forward. Exhale down through the lower half of your body into the Earth. Our fire needs to be grounded so we can direct it where it needs to go. Inhale from deeper in the Earth, up into your navel core. If it feels comfortable, pause your breath at the top of your inhalation. Let the contained breath feed your fire. Then exhale down, deeper into the Earth. As you continue your breathing, try to lengthen your in and out breaths, making them even. Maybe even slowly count to five on both your in breaths and your out breaths, so that you can be even more balanced and grounded in the rhythm of your breath. As you grow roots down into the Earth, imagine going all the way to the core of the Earth. I like to imagine holding hands with Earth energy, both giving and receiving in a mutual reciprocal relationship. Maintain this practice for two to five minutes. This practice can be done anywhere, anytime, to help ground us. When we take a few moments to ground ourselves before a challenging conversation, a public speaking engagement, a protest, or even when we are excited or hurt, we can engage what comes next from a more centered place. In order to tap into that full potential, mindfulness must be informed by feminism and social justice. As mindfulness has become trendy in the West, it has also become more superficial and more commodified (Purser 2019). It gets framed

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10  Introduction: Creating a More Just World as luxury spa retreats that are economically unavailable to many while failing to acknowledge that poor people of color around the world bear the brunt of environmental toxins and thus have greater need for that very healing.Too often, mindfulness practices stay at the level of the individual, inviting participants to change their attitudes toward outer or inner circumstances. While that can be valuable—​ after all, we may not control the external world but we may be able to shape how we respond to things—​it is also limited from a feminist perspective. Since injustice isn’t an individual thing, oppressed peoples are systematically robbed of opportunity, resources, and the ability to self-​define. They experience violence because of the injustice, both individually and as communities. Oppression is a pattern that is enacted not just by individuals, but also by social systems; it is in policies, in laws, in access to resources (or the lack thereof), in what we learn about who contributed to society, in whose stories we watch when we turn on the TV. These are social structures (large, organizing elements of society) that shape society. Social justice movements have long taught us that individual solutions do not solve structural problems. We each have a say in HOW we participate in those structures and we can create small ripples of change as we challenge injustice. But we also need to work toward larger-​scale change if we are really going to end oppression. We need to create change on BOTH the individual levels and the structural, systemic levels, if we are to truly create lasting transformation toward justice. As the Reverend angel Kyodo williams notes, “[l]‌ove and justice are not two. Without inner change, there can be no outer change; without collective change, no change matters” (williams, Owens, and Syedullah 2016, 89). Too often, trendy mindfulness programs do not acknowledge this larger structural context. In fact, they often don’t address injustice at all, which means they sometimes perpetuate it. By not acknowledging the lived realities of oppression for many people, these mindfulness practices lose a great deal of their effectiveness and potential. But when integrated, mindfulness and feminism can mutually enrich each other, deepen each other’s potential, and hold each other accountable.

Embodying Our Values Mindfulness can prove a useful addition to feminism because it can help us embody our feminist principles, radiating them through all aspects of our lives.Think about it: what does feminism mean to you? Is it just something you study, take a test on, and forget? Is it a philosophy you vote with but it has nothing to do with your relationships, your daily behaviors, your words? For most feminists, it is a way of being and an integral part of who we are. Given that, it is important to weave our feminism through all aspects of our lives. In order to do that, we need to go beyond thoughts and concepts. We need to embody it. Mindful feminism can offer us ways to do that. The body is, of course, central to feminism. Reproductive justice, sexual assault, domestic violence, sex trafficking, body image, incarceration, disparate policing of diverse bodies, gender construction, gender performance, and many other key feminist issues all center the body. But embodiment—​that isn’t always front and

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  11 center (especially in educational environments that tend to privilege the mind at the virtual erasure of the body). And yet, the trauma from oppression is held in our bodies. If we have been targeted by oppression, we will hold the wounds from those experiences in our bodies. In fact, science is now showing us that communities hold historical trauma in their cells, passing on the wounds to subsequent generations (see Chapter  3 for more on this discussion). In addition, many of us from marginalized communities have internalized oppression, so that our very sense of self is distorted. It takes more than just thoughts and concepts to unearth and heal these wounds. We have to do it at the level of embodiment through all layers of our being: our heart, our mind, our body, our spirit, and our relationships, both as individuals and communities. Think of it. How many times do you check yourself whenever you walk by a reflective surface? Is that an empowering, celebratory check, or are you making sure you “look OK”? How is your posture? Are your shoulders rounding in on each other? Are you making yourself small or taking up space? How is your voice? Does your inflection go up at the end of your sentences so that you turn declarations into questions so as to lessen their impact? How does your body respond when the police show up (this will be influenced by your racial identity)? When you enter a gendered public bathroom as a gender queer individual or transperson? There are many ways we hold oppression in our very bodies that are defense mechanisms to help protect us from the violence of oppression. Healing Justice movements have recognized that healing needs to be integral to social justice; it can’t be an add-​on after we reach liberation, or an afternoon vacation in the midst of organizing burnout. It needs to actually be embedded in our activism and leadership (Piepzna-​Samarasinha n.d.). In the West, many of us are trained to separate the mind from the body in the classic Cartesian split, leading to disembodiment. That often creates a disconnection between our embodied actions and our value system. However, we are always already embodied—​there is no way for us to not be acting through our embodiment, though usually that is an unconscious process. When we are not aware of something, we can easily be enacting behaviors that undermine our feminist values. To integrate this embodiment, I draw on mindfulness, but I also draw on some somatic work, informed by the Strozzi Institute, an embodied leadership program, and Generative Somatics, a nonprofit organization that grounds somatics, a body-​based healing practice, firmly within social justice. What’s important about somatics is that it works with our selves as holistic “living organism[s]‌,” relationally including our thoughts, emotions, spirit, physicality, and biology. Since we are always embodying something, it helps make conscious what has become habitual and then assess whether those embodied practices align with our values (sounds similar to what we do in feminism, right?) These embodied practices happen at the level of the individual and the collective body.The key with a politicized somatics, according to Generative Somatics, is that the body is a site of insight and possibility for change (2011, 2). Our bodies give us information, hold traumas we need to heal, and have intelligence with which we can work. In order to create change, we need to learn what is currently happening and what function that serves (like is it to protect us?),

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12  Introduction: Creating a More Just World then create the conditions for opening and transformation, so that we develop more capacity for a range of experience and greater choice about how we respond or react (Generative Somatics 2011; Coaches Rising 2019). We can then learn new practices that better align with our values. While not all somatics (or mindfulness, for that matter) is politicized, when it is, embodied healing and practices can help us shift both individually and collectively and thus be a powerful tool toward structural transformation. For somatics to be truly healing and transformative, it needs to be located within an analysis of power (which I think is also true of mindfulness practices). “A politicized somatics can act as a fundamental collective practice of building power, deepening presence and capacity, and developing the embodied skills we need to generate large-​scale change” (Generative Somatics 2011, 3). My work with mindful embodiment is informed by similar principles: that our bodies hold stories, that they often need to be healed, that we can transform who we are in the world and how we are with each other when we integrate liberation in our whole beings, which means infusing our feminism in all layers of who we are. Mindfulness and somatics are ways of accessing embodied self-​reflection, healing, and commitment.

The Messiness Is the Work A key principle of feminism is that how you get there matters. We have to create change using feminist and anti-​oppressive methods if we want to achieve more just results. In the words of the great Audre Lorde, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house” (2007). If we use the same systematic patterns to create change, we will get the same oppressive results. If we want inclusive, just, and compassionate results, we need to work towards that by using inclusive, just, and compassionate strategies. That means always reflecting on our process and holding ourselves and our social movements accountable for not only a more just vision but also a more just process. It will not be neat or pretty, but in feminism, like mindfulness, the messiness is the work. The tendency is often to avoid discomfort and want neat solutions, but nothing about justice work is easy or tidy. We have to unlearn deeply ingrained conditioning and remember/​imagine more creative, liberatory, and loving ways of being and doing. There is deep beauty and possibility there—​which is why it is worth doing the work (not to mention that doing the work is the only way to end injustice). But it requires digging deep and learning to sit with some discomfort. The grounding and centering practices I offer in this chapter, along with reinforcing our commitment to our vision of a better world, can help us stay in the uncomfortable process.

Yes, and … Part of the messiness means allowing for the complexity of contemporary issues, along with the far-​reaching historical events that made them possible. Too often in this world, things are presented as cut and dried, as though there are only two sides to a story. There’s a villain and hero, with nothing in between.

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  13 Unfortunately, social change agents can participate in that story with the very common, “yes, but” response. “Yes, but that is problematic” (something I have said many times). “Yes, but that won’t get us where we want to go” (guilty, again). Often those critiques need to be voiced, but I am inviting us to consider a “Yes, and” approach as we read this book and as we practice mindful feminism. The “Yes, and” approach allows for more complexity. It lets us recognize both the value and the limitations of a particular strategy or position. Rather than dismissing something out of hand because it is flawed, this approach acknowledges what might be useful while expanding to address what is left out of the picture. The “yes, and” approach lets us hold contradictions and move beyond a simple dichotomy. Unlike the “yes, but” approach, it does not put us in constant resistance to something (“yes, but I am dismissing that because it doesn’t consider xyz”). Instead, it lets us note limitations and broaden the conversation. “Yes, there is a useful insight there, and there’s this other component that also needs to be addressed.” In inviting us to practice a “yes, and” approach, I am not suggesting we don’t critique. Critique is both necessary and valuable. And there are many ways to work toward a more just world. While there are certainly missteps that it would be best to avoid, there are often strengths and weaknesses to different approaches. So what would happen if we cultivated more of a “Yes, and” ability to deepen and broaden our conversations with one another? The journalist Rebecca Solnit quotes the great poet June Jordan as saying, We must begin, now, to reject the white, either/​or system of dividing the world into unnecessary conflict. For example, it is tragic and ridiculous to choose between Malcolm X and Dr. King: each of them hurled themselves against quite a different aspect of our predicament, and both of them, literally, gave their lives to our ongoing struggle. We need everybody and all that we are. (qtd. in Solnit 2016, 83) We can begin to embody what AnaLouise Keating calls, “post-​oppositional consciousness,” which moves us away from binary “oppositional consciousness,” and toward interconnectivity, relationality, and a “complex commonality” (2013, 11). In noting the need for a post-​oppositional politics, Keating quotes M.  Jacqui Alexander as saying, [o]‌ur oppositional politics has been necessary, but it will never sustain us; while it may give us some temporary gains … it can never ultimately feed that place deep within us: that space of the erotic, that space of the soul, that space of the Divine. (2013, 4) My invitation is to keep critical analysis but move away from simple binaries to instead create more complex webs of understanding, connection, and creating that vision of a better world that can include all of us.

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14  Introduction: Creating a More Just World

A Note about the Use of “We” Whenever my students use the word “we” in a sentence, I always ask who the “we” is. Often there is an assumed group of people referenced by the pronoun “we” that isn’t always made explicit and that isn’t always inclusive. Alternatively, the use of the word can imply a generalized experience that not everyone actually has. Like when someone says, “We are all upset by …,” or “we all know that ….” Those statements might be true of some people but not all people, and it is often more accurate to specifically state who we are talking about so we don’t homogenize people’s experiences. So it is worth explaining why I use the word “we” at times throughout this book. I  do it because I, too, am on a mindful, embodied feminist journey. My journey will not be the same as yours, and I  will try to own those differences throughout the book. My insights in this book come from my own experiences, years of teaching numerous students from diverse identities and listening to their stories, my scholarly expertise in feminist studies, my training in yoga and meditation, and years of talking with others and working with communities advocating for change. So when I say “we,” I am assuming we are all on journeys but I am not assuming we are on the same journey or that we have similar experiences. In fact, when in doubt, value difference. Always. Connect through points of commonality but always honor difference and acknowledge the power dynamics between differences. Finally, I  say “we” because we are in this together. We may have differential access to power and resources, we may have different stakes in the situation, but ultimately, we are all in this messy, beautiful, challenging, amazing world together and we will all be affected by whether it rises or falls.

How to Use this Book This book touches on many of the complex conversations I have had with students and colleagues over the years. It is helpful to read it from beginning to end the first time around, as it does build the conversation sequentially. I assume that readers of this book will be entering the conversation at a variety of levels of experience and familiarity with both mindfulness and social justice work. I have tried to integrate both the necessary foundational concepts while also addressing the challenging questions we face after years of doing this work. After the first read, I hope that the various chapters will be useful to revisit whenever we are facing particular challenges in our lives. In this book, I explore the challenges and possibilities that many people experience as they deepen their feminist commitments. Chapter 2 delves deeper into embodied self-​reflection, while Chapter 3 discusses how oppression creates individual and collective trauma that needs to be healed. Chapter  4 helps readers reflect on the harmful storylines they may have internalized and offers practices to help interrupt and unlearn them. Because many of my students have talked about the challenges of living in-​between communities and the code switching that results, the next chapter offers some insights into navigating that process.

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Introduction: Creating a More Just World  15 Subsequent chapters explore how to account for whatever privileges we may hold and act in solidarity with communities across differences. In the following chapter, I offer strategies for having difficult conversations with compassion and commitment. The latter part of the book examines ways to sustain our feminism and build a better world: catalyzing both our anger and our love toward liberatory transformation while avoiding burnout, cultivating hope, and filling our well. Throughout each chapter, I offer both insights from feminist leaders and practices to help us deepen our awareness and capacities along our feminist journeys. I invite you to try the practices, and know that not all practices will work for everyone. Some may not sit well now, but you may find yourself called back to them in a month or a year. Or maybe the chapter clarifies for you what you need so that you know to look elsewhere for it. I invite you to try the practices that call to you with an open heart and mind. Bring a sense of curiosity and inquiry to the experience. Remember that whatever your experience of a practice is, whether you love it or hate it, you are gathering information that can be useful to you along your journey. The following chapters end with a “Resilience Practice in Feminist Action” scenario, in which I explore what some of these practices look like in lived experience. These stories emerge from my work with students and colleagues, but they are composites of many people so as to protect the privacy of individuals. As you read these passages, I invite you to listen for what resonates in your own life or how the practices might work differently in your own life. Please refer to my website for a list of additional resources to support you on your journeys.

Notes 1 I currently teach in a Gender & Women’s Studies Department; prior to that, I taught Women’s Studies for years. I will use the GWS acronym to refer to both. My teaching under both names is grounded in intersectional, inclusive feminisms. 2 In the early 1990s, Judge Clarence Thomas was being vetted for a seat as a U.S. Supreme Court Justice—​only the second Black man in history to hold that seat, replacing Justice Thurgood Marshall. The nomination was already contentious because then Judge Thomas was much more conservative than Justice Marshall. During his nomination hearings, a law professor and former co-​worker, Anita Hill, accused Judge Thomas of sexual harassment. Professor Hill was targeted with a great deal of racism and misogyny. This was a defining and highly racialized and gendered sociopolitical moment in U.S. history.

References Barkataki, Susanna. “Honor (Don’t Appropriate) Yoga: Online Summit.” Accessed Spring 2019. https://​honordontappropriateyoga.com/​. Berila, Beth. Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-​Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education. New York: Routledge, 2016. Berila, Beth, Melanie Klein, and Chelsea Jackson Roberts, eds. Yoga, the Body, and Embodied Social Change: An Intersectional Feminist Analysis. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016.

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16  Introduction: Creating a More Just World Boggs, Grace Lee. “Seeds of Change.” Bill Moyers Journal. June 15, 2007. Accessed August 30, 2019. www.pbs.org/​moyers/​journal/​blog/​2007/​06/​seeds_​of_​change.html. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Center for Contemplative Mind in Society. “Tree of Contemplative Practices.” Accessed July 2, 2018. www.contemplativemind.org/​practices/​tree. Coaches Rising. “Power of Embodied Transformation.” Online course. Summer–​Fall 2019. www.coachesrising.com/​. Crenshaw, Kimberlé.“Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, andViolence against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review 43, no. 6 (July 1991): 1241–​1299. Generative Somatics. “What Is a Politicized Somatics?” 2011, 2014. Accessed August 30, 2019. www.generativesomatics.org/​sites/​default/​files/​what%2Bis%2Ba%2Bpoliticized %2Bsomaticsdrft.pdf. Keating, AnaLouise. Transformation Now! Toward a Post-​ Oppositional Politics of Change. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2013. King, Ruth. Mindful of Race: Transforming Racism from the Inside Out. Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2018. Lorde, Audre. “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” In Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, 110–​113. Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press, 2007. Magee, Rhonda. The Inner Work of Racial Justice: Healing Ourselves and Transforming Our Communities through Mindfulness. New York: Tarcher Perigee, 2019. Murphy-​Shigematsu, Stephen. From Mindfulness to Heartfulness: Transforming Self and Society with Compassion. Oakland, CA: Berrett-​Koehler, 2018. Piepzna-​Samarasinha,Leah Lakshmi.“A Not-​So-​Brief Personal History of the Healing Justice Movement,2010–​2016.”MICE.AccessedAugust 30,2019.http://​micemagazine.ca/​issue-​ two/​not-​so-​brief-​personal-​history-​healing-​justice-​movement-​2010%E2%80%932016. Purser, Ronald. McMindfulness: How Mindfulness Became the New Capitalist Spirituality. New York: Repeater, 2019. Siegel, Daniel J. The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-​Being. New York: W.W. Norton, 2007. Solnit, Rebecca. Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities. 2nd ed. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books, 2016. williams, Reverend angel Kyodo, Lama Rod Owens, with Jasmine Syedullah. Radical Dharma:Talking Race, Love, and Liberation. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2016.

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2  Embodying Our Feminism

Embodying Our Feminism Feminists often say we have to “walk the talk” or “practice what we preach,” which means enacting our feminist principles in all we do: our behaviors, our commitments, how we relate to ourselves and others, and how we work for social change. In my experience, most GWS or other social justice courses cover what this means for organizing and leadership pretty well. In this chapter, then, I want to supplement those discussions by exploring a different layer: how do we actually embody our principles, and what are some barriers to doing so? What is embodiment? Somatic Experiencing expert Peter Levine writes that, Embodiment is about gaining, through the vehicle of awareness, the capacity to feel the ambient physical sensations of unfettered energy and aliveness as they pulse through our bodies. It is here that mind and body, thought and feeling, psyche and spirit, are held together, welded in an undifferentiated unity of experience. (2010, 279, emphasis in original) I use embodiment to refer to what is happening in all the layers of our self: our intellect and politics, yes, but also the very fibers of our being, which include the physical, the emotional, the spiritual, and even the cellular layers (Berila 2016). In the interest of both feminist justice and connecting to the wholeness that is our birthright (and which oppression denies us), part of the work is doing our best to integrate our values into all that we do, making sure that our actions align with our feminist values, and infusing those values into all layers of our being. We are always embodied. We are always practicing something, but it may not actually be aligned with our values (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014). We might not even be aware of what we are practicing. Oppression has imprinted our embodiment, albeit in different ways. In much contemporary society, many of us are disconnected from our “feeling self ” (Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). When we are no longer intimate with our own fully dimensional aliveness, we have a hard time recognizing that of others, which makes it harder to connect with people and easier to dehumanize them (Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). Part of the journey toward liberation is rediscovering and nurturing our inherent, fully embodied, life force, which will also help us remember our interdependence and interconnection.

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18  Embodying Our Feminism In much of my recent work, I have drawn on mindfulness as a daily practice that can help us access our embodied experience (Berila 2016). Mindfulness helps us become deeply aware of whatever is arising for us in the present moment. This awareness lets us befriend our experience with compassion and create a pause between an automatic reaction (which may not be aligned with our values) and a more intentional response (in which we have more choice). Mindfulness helps us notice patterns in our lives so that we can make more conscious choices about how we engage them. Many practices can build a state of mindfulness, including but not limited to meditation, time in nature, gardening, yoga, dance, drumming, and journaling. Mindfulness helps us cultivate both discernment and compassion. The former lets us see clearly how certain patterns show up in our lives, our communities, and our society. As the Buddhist leader Bhikkhu Bodhi writes, Mindfulness brings to light experience in its pure immediacy. It reveals the object as it is before it has been plastered over with conceptual paint, overlaid with interpretations.To practice mindfulness is a matter not so much of doing but of undoing: not thinking, not judging, not associating, not planning, not imagining, not wishing. (qtd. in Manuel 2015, xiii) A regular mindfulness practice helps us clearly discern what is actually happening, both inside us and around us. In order to reflect, one first needs to name what is happening in the moment.What is our emotional response? How is it manifesting physically? What thoughts are arising? This honesty needs to be clear and fierce, but it can still be compassionate. In fact, meeting the violence of injustice with compassion is an act of resistance. As Brené Brown wrote, “Loving ourselves through the process of owning our story is the bravest thing we’ll ever do” (2015, 40). In this book, I  will continue to draw on mindfulness as a key practice of embodiment, but I  will also draw on somatics. According to the tradition of somatics practiced through Generative Somatics and the Strozzi Institute, the soma refers to “the living organism in its wholeness,” while somatics is a “theory and methodology about how bodies change.” It refutes the Cartesian mind/​body split and recognizes that our soma means all of our being: our emotions, our physicality, our spirit, and our thoughts. Somatics involves “working through the body to transform the self ” and integrate us back into wholeness (Strozzi Institute 2019; Strozzi-​Heckler 2014; Generative Somatics 2018). Somatics and movement organizer Sumitra Rajkumar says that “Somatics is … a methodology of embodied transformation, individually and collectively … it’s about us embodying our wholeness and aliveness” (“Somatics and Politics” 2018). Richard Strozzi-​Heckler, the founder of the Strozzi Institute, writes, To work through the body is to contact the person at three levels: the present situation, or “what is” about them; the past, or the historical patterns that shaped them into the “what is” of their present reality; and the future, or what

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Embodying Our Feminism  19 now wants to come to life as expression and vitality (usually what has been repressed in the past). (1993, 17) Rather than trying to change from our thoughts down, this method radiates from our bodies out. According to this tradition of somatics, the soma instinctively moves towards dignity, belonging and safety (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014; Strozzi Institute 2019; Generative Somatics 2018). Whatever embodiment we enact, its focus is on keeping us safe, allowing us the dignity that is our birthright, and helping us belong (three things that systemic oppression denies marginalized peoples). The combination of our historical experiences and socialization has produced a shape that our bodies regularly inhabit (Johnson 2018). For instance, many years ago, I  was going through a very difficult break up from a relationship that was pivotal in my queer identity and I was extremely depressed. I met an old friend at an event, and without my saying anything, she sensed I was really depressed and closed off. As a massage therapist, she had noticed the shape of my body: my shoulders were rounded forward, my energy was collapsed, the light in my eyes was dull, and so on. Often, the shape we inhabit includes places where we armor to protect ourselves: we build walls (like we are wearing literal armor) (Generative Somatics 2018; Strozzi Institute 2019). Instead of opening and expanding, for instance, we might harden and constrict. We might begin to notice that certain areas of our bodies are regularly tense and constricted. We can then ask why that is. Somatics reminds us that we have a great deal of wisdom in our bodies (Johnson 2018). Think of the phrase: “I have a gut feeling,” which suggests that our gut (which is in the abdominal region just below our belly button) is telling us that something is right or something is off. That gut region, not coincidentally, is also the site of gravity for humans. Part of working with embodiment is learning to listen and learn from this wisdom (and healing from the traumas that might make it dangerous to be present and listen to our body-​wisdom. More on that in Chapter 3). We all come from ancestors who knew this and who probably had access to this wholeness, so part of our work is to re-​member and reclaim this wisdom (Generative Somatics 2018; Emergent Strategy Training 2019). While both mindfulness and somatics can be deeply powerful modalities to help us unlearn harmful patterns and relearn/​create liberatory ways of being with ourselves and one another, not all mindfulness traditions or somatics systems can be directly applied to social change work. At best, some fail to address systems of oppression and the power hierarchies in which we live, at worst, some reproduce and perpetuate them. I am not going to go too deeply into the critique of some of these more harmful practices here, as others have done a good job of that critique and I have addressed it in some of my other work (Berila 2016; Pursor 2019). But know that in this book, the mindfulness and somatics practices I refer to are situated within social justice work, or have been taken up by social change agents who have interwoven the practices with social justice. The Generative Somatics article, “What Is a Politicized Somatics?,” notes that,

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20  Embodying Our Feminism [a]‌politicized somatic theory understands the need for deep personal transformation, aligned with liberatory community/​collective practices, connected to transformative systemic change … [it] can act as a fundamental collective practice of building power, deepening presence and capacity, and developing the embodied skills we need to generate large-​scale change. Without a political analysis, this doesn’t get leveraged. (2014,  2–​3) This methodology recognizes that we are shaped by society; that power structures shape us both individually and collectively. But it also recognizes that “we can shape back … We get to cultivate agency in relationship to one another, together” (“Somatics and Politics” 2018).Whereas much of the mindfulness, yoga, and other practices that have become so popular these days focus on very crucial internal work, somatics is fundamentally relational (“Somatics and Politics” 2018).Together, then, they offer powerful tools and frameworks for working with and through our embodiment towards liberatory ways of being. My discussion, then, situates mindfulness and somatics embodiment work within feminist, intersectional analysis and social change work. If our bodies are instinctually moving us towards safety, dignity, and belonging, then we need to (1) honor the patterns in which our somas engage—​our somas do what they do to try to protect and take care of us; (2) examine whether those patterns continue to serve us. In other words, do we still need to react in a particular way in order to feel safe, or have we perhaps outgrown some of those patterns? Many embodied patterns of reaction are learned conditioning, and while they may have served us at certain points in time, the question now is: do they align with our feminist values? Are our embodied patterns bringing us in closer alignment with our feminist values and visions of a more just world? And if not, how do we transform them? How do we cultivate individual and collective resilience?

Self-​Reflection The first critical skill in this process is self-​reflection.To reflect means to look carefully and deeply at something, to study it regularly for all its nuances, causes, and effects/​implications.We look underneath the taken-​for-​granted to instead wonder why things are the way they are and who benefits. Feminism turns this microscope on events, issues, behaviors, and systems in our world. We look for patterns, revealing the deep roots of systems and their effects on different groups of people. If you have delved into feminism at all, this process will be familiar to you. It’s one we practice constantly (in fact, we might have a hard time turning it off even when we are watching TV to relax or listening to music. Once we learn to see the workings of power, we see them everywhere). Take any social issue and a feminist’s work is to unpack the systems of oppression and the consequences for different groups of people, both those in the dominant groups and those who are marginalized.We learn to reveal patterns and ask, “Who benefits?”Then we work to transform inequalities. Radiating Feminism invites us to apply this process to all aspects of our lives—​ not just outer societal workings, but also to our inner lives. Our feminist analysis

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Embodying Our Feminism  21 has taught us that many of us internalize the workings of oppression. Because wider culture is saturated with messages about the marginalized groups’ supposed “inferiority” and the supposed “superiority” of dominant groups, it is virtually impossible not to breathe in those messages. I will talk more about healing from the toxicity of internalized oppression in Chapter 4. Here, I want to explore what it means to engage the process of self-​reflection on our inner selves.

PRACTICE 2.1  Self-​Reflection Check-​In Find a relatively quiet space where you can be uninterrupted. You can sit, stand, or lie down for this practice. If it feels right and safe to do so, close your eyes. If not, simply soften your gaze. Take a few deep breaths to bring your attention to the present moment. Imagine sending breath down through your lower body into the Earth, and extend that breath up through your heart and the crown of your head towards the sky. Now turn your attention inward and begin to notice what is true for you at this moment. Try to meet whatever is happening with curiosity, not judgment. What thoughts are going through your mind? Try to observe them without getting caught up in any of the storylines. Just let them pass like a leaf in a river current. What is your emotional state? And how do you know that? What tells you that you are excited, anxious, depressed, or content? Notice your physical body: Are any parts of your body tense or tight? Does any part of your body ache? Do you feel openness or expansion anywhere? Things to Start Paying Attention To* Temperature: Do you feel hot or cold? If so where? Sensation: Do you feel tingling, numbness, pulsing energy? Where? Movement: Is your body involuntarily moving? (Or does it want to? If so, let it and pay attention to what happens). Shape: What overall shape is your body taking? Are your shoulders rounded forward or spread wide? Do you notice yourself leaning forward or more backward? Where is your breath in your body? After several moments, take some deep breaths and widen your awareness back out into the room. Open your eyes if they were closed. Take several moments daily—​perhaps even a full ten minutes (setting a timer on your phone makes this easier)—​to quietly observe your current state, bringing curiosity, not judgment, to your experience. I invite you to do this longer reflection at least once a day, but you can also do short internal check-​ins periodically throughout the day. The more we do so, the more familiar we become with ourselves. *The bolded areas of focus are from Strozzi Institute (2019) and Treleaven 2019.

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22  Embodying Our Feminism Self-​reflection practices such as this one are crucial to cultivating awareness of ourselves, which, in turn, is crucial for learning to more consciously show up in the world. Oppression has saturated our culture(s) for generations, which means it has socialized most of us in ways we are not yet conscious of. Becoming more aware of our internal landscape helps us have more choices in the world. There are many meditation or other mindfulness practices that can support us in this journey. See the resources list on my website for some suggestions. I invite you to explore different ones until you find the ones that resonate best with you. As you cultivate our awareness, try to befriend your experience, whatever it is. If we fight or judge it, the experience will likely get stronger, plus we then get into an adversarial relationship with ourselves, which I would argue reproduces harm. It also is difficult to transform an internal experience while harshly judging or fighting it. Our soma (in all its layers) is generally more willing to transform when met with understanding and compassion. As Sonya Renee Taylor so profoundly writes, “There are times when our unflinching honesty, vulnerability, and empathy will create a transformative portal to a completely new way of living” (2018, xi). Mindfulness helps us learn to be the Witness of what is happening without judgment. (Berila 2016). We can learn to become curious. Ask questions. Bring a sense of wonder to what is going on for us beneath the surface. Being the Witness means observing what is happening in real time. It’s different than disassociating—​ which involves leaving our present experience and watching it from afar. While disassociating is a survival technique for people who are experiencing trauma, it is not being the Witness. The latter lets us still embody our responses but also be bigger than them. We are both the embodied reaction and the higher self that encompasses and discerns that reaction. Instead of getting swept up in the stories of past or future, we stay with whatever is happening in the present moment. Once we cultivate the Witness, we are less likely to drown in our everyday reactions (which results in being reactionary). Instead, we can have our reactions and simultaneously reflect upon them. As we cultivate deeper awareness, often more choices become available to us (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014). Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön writes that when we deepen our self-​ reflection through meditation, “[w]‌e can become intimate with just how we hide out, doze off, freeze up. And that intimacy, coming to know these barriers so well, is what begins to dismantle them” (2007, 70.) This process, then, will reveal our patterns. What do we enact over and over again in our lives? What are our experiences of particular events and why? How do we tend to respond to particular stimuli? Do those responses serve us and our communities? Do they align with our values? Most of us have been conditioned in ways that have become calcified as automatic reactions, and the trick to changing them is (1) to notice them by cultivating mindful and somatic awareness; (2) to create the conditions that allow transformation, where needed. We can realign with our values so that our embodiment is both more efficient and more empowering. (3) This allows us to create some space around our automatic reactions so that we can make a different choice about how we engage a situation.

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Embodying Our Feminism  23 This process can be unsettling, because we are moving out of the habitual (which, even if it is no longer serving us, is deeply familiar and therefore somewhat comfortable). This is why somatics can be “disorganizing work” (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014). My Generative Somatics teachers remind us that “We don’t practice to feel good.We practice to feel more” (Brown 2017, 205).Though this process is critical, it is not always comfortable. If it becomes too unsettling, stop and consult a counselor or health care professional.

What Kind of Transformation Do We Want? In feminism, we often say,“we can’t get there from here,” or that “process=product,” which means that how we work toward justice will affect whether we can get there. On an embodied level, that is profoundly true. In order to really create a more just world, we need to do our best to actually embody liberation, which means enacting our feminist values in everything we do (to the best of our abilities), dismantling—​with integrity—​oppressive systems, and accessing as much liberation as possible as we build the world we want instead. Liberation is not just a destination; it is a practice, a process, and an experience. Somatics and mindfulness help us learn to take different action under pressure (Generative Somatics 2018; Strozzi Institute 2019). We will continue to face difficult circumstances in life (though hopefully we can change oppressive conditions) but we can pause our gut reactions and have more choices when we work with learned socialization that limits our choices (both individually and collectively). When we can all learn ways of being with ourselves and with one another in ways that fully embody our aliveness, enable safety, dignity, and belonging, and align with our feminist values, then we will all be both living and creating liberation. This is a good time to get clear about what we value and how we want to be in the world. Let’s take a moment to get clearer about what we value.1

PRACTICE 2.2  Crafting Your Feminist Commitment Journal your responses to the following questions. It can also be helpful to discuss these questions in a small group of trusted feminists, so that everyone learns from and inspires each other. Feel free to respond to these questions with more questions if they help you refine what is really at stake for you in feminist visions of justice. 1. Define your feminism. What are its ultimate goals? E.g. equality, equity, liberation, justice? 2. What do you mean by whichever one(s) you chose? How, for instance, is liberation different from equity or justice? 3. Apply this goal to a key feminist issue you care about, such as ending rape culture, prison abolition, reproductive justice, and so on.What does that goal mean in the context of that issue? What needs to change? What do you want to see instead?

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24  Embodying Our Feminism 4. What does a more just world—​or a fully liberated world—​look and feel like? Getting as specific as you can, consider the following questions: • • • •

How do our communities relate to one another? How does liberation shape how we are in the world moment to moment? If we never had to experience oppression, what would be different? How do our social institutions operate? (Do we even have the same social institutions?) When we have that world, what is made possible?

Keeping this vision of a fully liberated society alive, how can you begin to live that now? How can you, to the best of your ability, access liberation in: • • • • •

your relationship with yourself? What is one tendency you might want to shift (such as negative self talk, people-​pleasing, etc.)? your relationships with your loved ones? your relationships with people who oppress (which may include people in the previous categories)? your engagement with social justice issues? your day-​to-​day  life?

See if you can name a couple of ways you can access liberation in these various places in your life. Then look at all your responses. Are there consistent themes running through your responses? Are there a couple of values/​commitments that rise to the surface, such as kindness, being more grounded, connection with others, showing up for social issues, honoring your anger, challenging injustice where you see it, etc.? See if you can hone your responses down to one or two prominent ones—​not because the others are not valuable—​keeping the full picture alive in your heart and mind is helpful. But it can be overwhelming to try to work with too much at a time. If you can hone it down to a short statement, you have a “north star” by which to guide your actions. Here are some examples: “As a feminist, I value showing up to social justice work with groundedness and compassion.” “I show up with my full, messy, and awesome self and want others to be able to do the same.” “I cultivate connection with people in my communities that honors everyone’s intersectional and complex lived experiences.” Or whatever feels right to you.You can revise these at any time.The point is (1) to get clear on what feminism (specifically) means to you; (2) to consider

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Embodying Our Feminism  25 what that feminism looks like in your social justice work and your daily life; (3) to let that vision guide the choices you make and the actions you take on a daily, moment-​to-​moment basis. I recommend revisiting this practice every year, writing it out again and comparing your responses over time, which can be an interesting way to track your feminist journey throughout your life.

Whatever you have settled on, let that be a living, breathing process. Your vision of justice will likely continue to evolve. How your values inform your life choices will also evolve. The invitation is to be in a constant conversation with them, so that you both grow together. If we are clear on what we value, we have something by which to measure the degree to which each of our actions are in alignment with that “north star” (Treleaven 2019). The point of this practice is to help us get clear on what we care about and how we want to orient our lives.When we know the answers to these questions (which will change /​gain nuance over time), we can use them to guide our choices and bring us into greater alignment with them. They can help you determine what you buy and where, where you devote your time and energies, how you interrupt moments of privilege, how you heal from oppression, what you read and learn about, how you parent, how you interact with loved ones, and how you interact with people who disagree with you. Feminism reminds us that not just any change will do; it has to be transformation towards justice and liberation. In order to get there, we need to have at least the beginnings of a vision of what that means, and be open to it continually evolving.

Honoring the Process It is not uncommon for feminist circles to distinguish between “theory” and “practice.” In fact, they are often pitted against each other within a hierarchy that often places more value on one or the other. On college campuses, Gender & Women’s Studies courses are often considered “theory” while the work of the Women’s Center is the “practice.” The reality is that theory and practice are (or should be) deeply intertwined and reinforce each other.Theory is how we analyze systems of oppression and determine what forms of transformation are necessary and effective; practice means enacting that transformation and reflecting on what does or does not work, then returning to the theory and revising it. It’s an iterative cycle in which all parts are equally necessary. (The term “praxis” gets at this interdependent relationship.) There are also other ways of thinking of the notion of practice. In her book, Transforming Feminist Practice: Non-​Violence, Social Justice, and the Possibilities of a Spiritualized Feminism, Leela Fernandes argues that instead of pitting the two against each other, we need to “develop a form of practice that integrates feminism’s existing focus on social and economic inequalities in the material world with a deeper sense of ethical and spiritual practice” (2003, 53). While my discussion of embodied feminism differs from what Fernandes lays out in her book,

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26  Embodying Our Feminism I nevertheless find her distinctions a helpful foundation here. She suggests that we understand practice as something that “moves beyond distinctions between the dailiness of practice and organized social activism” (2003, 53). Feminism, mindfulness, and somatics are practices. They are as much about the transformation required to “get there” as they are about the final destination. Though achieving justice for all may not happen in our lifetime, feminism teaches us that it can only happen if our very process of getting there is also liberatory. They are all, truly, about “being the change you want to see in the world.” Practice, in this sense, is less about the idea of “rehearsing” before the “real performance” and more about the kinds of practice we do when we are stepping on our yoga mat or trying to cultivate empathy. “A practice is a conscious choice we make so our behavior and actions become part of who we are” (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014, 77). It refers to consistently engaging in an ongoing activity to build our capacity and muscle-​memory. They help us “develop a ‘new shape’ that allows us to be more present, open, and connected” (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014, 76). Somatics teaches that learning something new requires a lot of practice: 300 repetitions to have muscle memory and 3000 for something to become an automatic, embodied reaction (Shara 2019; Generative Somatics 2018; Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). We are always engaged in practice, whether we are aware of it or not, whether we chose the form it takes or not. In their article, “The Transformative Power of Practice,” Ng’ethe Maina and Staci K. Haines, both Generative Somatics teachers, distinguish between “default practices” and “intentional practices” (2008). This book will help us discern between them and move from the first to the second. Default practices are learned behaviors that have developed through our life experiences. They are our “gut” reactions in any given situation, which are usually learned survival mechanisms that are so deeply ingrained they remain below our awareness. They are our conditioned reactions that have “been shaped out of difficult experiences when we had limited means of dealing with and processing them” (Maina and Haines 2008, 2). They served their purpose at the time and protected us; they might even still be useful in certain contexts, but overall, they may not align with our current values and goals (Maina and Haines 2008). Part of an embodied feminist journey involves revealing our default patterns. We are ALL doing them, but they will look different for each of us. This discernment takes some work, because they are often so deeply ingrained that they are unconscious. They are so familiar that they will feel comfortable (at least on some level) to us and to those around us who participate in the script of those behaviors. (In other words, the people around us have learned their own default reactions that dance with ours.) Many of the mindfulness practices throughout this book are designed to help you explore those aspects of your self, your behaviors, and your world that are so habituated that they are unconscious.2 We first need to reveal them before we can transform them. The practices will invite you to stay with your sensations, emotions, and automatic thoughts. Explore questions like the ones Maina and Haines pose: Do you move toward or away from conflict? Can you feel and tolerate your own emotions (sadness, anger, guilt, joy, fear) or do you need to rid yourself

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Embodying Our Feminism  27 of them by denying them or putting them out on someone else? When you don’t understand or know what to do, do you cover it up, blame someone else or take more responsibility than is yours? (2008, 2) As you engage in that exploration, I invite you to bring a quality of generous curiosity to the reflection, rather than harsh judgment. Even if those default practices do not align with your current values, remember that they were a survival mechanism for you—​they protected you (Generative Somatics 2018). So try not to be too harsh on them or yourself. The embodied shape we inhabit is “hard earned”; it has taken care of us (Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). But it may be time to learn new practices if we want to live into our feminist visions of who and how we want to be as we work toward liberation for all. So the process involves creating awareness and space so that we can make different choices about how we engage.

PRACTICE 2.3  Moving from Gut Reaction to Intentional Response Call to mind a recent situation in which you felt your gut response made the situation worse. Maybe you felt uncomfortable after the fact about how you handled it. Maybe you were hoping for a different outcome, but the same old dynamic between you and the other person played out.You might think about a situation with your best friend or a close family member, but don’t go to a deeply painful moment. Practice a little self-​care here, and on a scale of 1–​10 of intensity, choose maybe a 4 or a 5. Now explore the following prompts. 1. How did you respond? Is this a common pattern of behavior for you in these types of situations? 2. How did the other person respond? What dance was created between the two of you? (Often, one person’s default pattern plays into another person’s default patterns.) 3. What are your values? (See your response to the questions above.) 4. What are some alternative responses you might have had that would better align with how you want to show up in the world? 5. How might the situation have gone differently had you engaged in those new responses?* 6. What is one thing you could do next time to try to redirect your response along that new path?* * Some important caveats in this work: we can and should work on our own patterns of behaviors so as to show up in the world in more holistic ways that align with our feminist values. But we cannot control how others respond to us. So, in question 5, I asked you to consider how the situation might have gone differently if you practiced more intentional responses. However, since we can only really shape how we respond, we don’t actually

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28  Embodying Our Feminism know how the situation would go. The other person might not be willing or ready to address their own default reactions. They might even resist our effort to change (because it disrupts the status quo). Be prepared for that, and remember that your transformational work matters, even if it doesn’t always have the effect you want. Also, know that because the default patterns are so deeply ingrained in many of us, they will take a while to uproot. They probably feel comfortable because we are so used to enacting them, while new behaviors will likely feel uncomfortable. We may find ourselves able to redirect into the new practices some moments, but fall back into the default ones in others. That is normal, so be kind to yourself.The transformation will happen more smoothly if we practice being intentional in less loaded situations.You can’t play a symphony until you have practiced scales. Similarly, our new, intentional practices will be more available to us in intense moments when we have built that muscle in less intense moments.

When Our Default Practices Become Barriers to Transformation Our visions of liberation are aspirational—​we are not there yet. The world—​ and most of us in it—​is still enacting policies, practices, behaviors, and ways of being that prevent it. Justice work means changing those things and engaging in more liberatory alternatives. Most of us want to live in certain ways or have certain conditions in our lives, but there are often many factors preventing that: the ways we are marginalized by society, the inequitable distribution of resources, the onslaught of micro/​cumulative and macro aggressions and so on. These all fall into what in somatics are called “sites of shaping,” which means the spheres in our lives that imprint on us and make us who and how we are. These sites include, from the center out: the individual, family and loved ones, our communities, social institutions (like the media, the government, the health care system, and so on), social norms and historical forces, and spirit landscape. The Strozzi Institute, drawing on work from Generation FIVE, draws these in circles like nesting dolls, with the individual being in the center and each subsequent circle encompassing the former (Strozzi-​Heckler 2014; Generative Somatics 2018; Shara 2019).We are all shaped by these different layers, albeit in different ways. “We embody our social contexts, just as we are shaped by and embody our family contexts, communities and the land/​environments that influence us” (Generative Somatics 2014).

PRACTICE 2.4  How Have You Been Shaped? Journal or draw some of the elements from each sphere that have impacted you. I have offered a few examples to get you started, but please do not be limited to these. Reflect on your experiences. Notice how the different layers impact one another.

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Embodying Our Feminism  29 Individual: Being queer, being an immigrant, being Dakota. Family and loved ones: Growing up with a single mom, being the oldest child of lots of siblings, living in a multiracial family, growing up in foster care. Communities: Being active in temple and Jewish communities, being isolated from an LGBTQ+ community, coming from a working-​ class background and going to a wealthy university on scholarship. Social institutions: Having your father deported, consistently being searched at airports, having to navigate inaccessible spaces that are not accessible for the disability with which you live. Social norms and historical forces: “Girls do not get angry,” racial profiling, Islamophobia, binary-​gendered bathrooms. Spirit and landscape: The impact of the ocean on your being, your Indigenous spiritual traditions, Islam, growing up on a farm. Now go back through those layers and see if you can notice any of the ways these forces have shaped you on the following somatic layers, (I draw the bolded categories below from the Strozzi Institute (Treleaven 2019; Strozzi Institute 2019): Physical: Feeling centered and grounded, rounding your shoulders forward; physically leaning back (away from the world); arms and torso wide (as if ready to fight the world); your weight and breath regularly higher, away from the ground, approaching people with openness. Emotional: Content, joyful, depressed, angry, anxious, distrustful, open and trusting. Narrative (the stories we tell ourselves): “I don’t have the right to be angry”; “The threat can and will come from any direction”; “People won’t understand me”; “all beings are interconnected.” Relational (how we relate to others): a tendency to appease and placate others; a tendency to avoid or push people away; a tendency to fight in conflict; a belief we are all related and interconnected. You may notice that some of these layers are easy to name, while others are elusive. That’s OK. This work involves learning about our lived patterns that are likely so second nature that we do not even realize we are doing them. We will also likely find that the more we get curious about our experiences, the more nuance we will notice. We have all been shaped by sociopolitical forces and our own experiences in ways that deeply affect how we show up in the world. Sometimes, the somatic shape they have created run counter to our aspirational goals. That is, we long for certain things in our lives but our somatic shape is actually preventing that in ways we do not realize. The Strozzi Institute and Generative Somatics call this

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30  Embodying Our Feminism Conditioned Tendencies, by which they mean “our automatic reactions under pressure” (Strozzi-​Heckler 1993; Shara 2019). By pressure, they mean stressors such as workplace demands, situations with our boss or our partner, dynamics with our mother or father, and so on.They do not necessarily mean manifestations of oppression here (though obviously many interpersonal dynamics are shaped by oppression). I will talk more about contexts of oppression in the rest of the book. Here I want us to develop the skill/​build the muscle of recognizing and interacting with our own embodied patterns in more interpersonal situations. Conditioned Tendencies (CTs), then, are gut reactions (our default practices) that we have developed over time to bring us closer to dignity, safety, and belonging (Strozzi-​Heckler 1993; Generative Somatics 2018). They may have served their purpose for a time, but it may be that they no longer take us where we want to go. For instance, I was raised by a single mom and my extended maternal family for the first seven years of my life. I grew up taking care of others. I learned to pay close attention to other people’s emotional states and needs, and I did my best to fulfill them or help manage the situation so that they would be fulfilled. Those were valuable skills: they developed a strong sense of empathy, a very attuned emotional literacy, and they helped me feel safe and like I belonged. And, they do not always get me where I  want to be now. Sometimes, I  can empathize and understand other people’s experiences and needs so much that I easily override my own. Despite having a very loving family, the way I learned them in childhood meant I didn’t know how to set boundaries. One might even say that I took care of other people’s dignity at the expense of my own. So part of living into liberation, in this particular personal dimension of it (not in the larger structural sense), is to learn when that behavior is useful and when it no longer serves me. Once I can become aware that I am engaging in it and that it is not what is best in a given moment, I have more choices in how I respond. Your experiences are likely very different from mine. But see if you can select one reaction you typically automatically exhibit under pressure. (Remember that pressure is not the same as oppression—​I’ll unpack the layer of oppression throughout future chapters). Then explore the following questions: ( 1) When do your automatic reactions arise (in what kinds of situations)? (2) How do they show up in the various layers? 1. Physical: Do you lift and jut out your chin? Does your breathing get shallow? Do you get physically smaller? 2. Emotional: Do you get frightened? Anxious? Angry? Frustrated? 3. Narrative: What’s the story going on in your head? 4. Relational: Does this CT make you move toward others, move away, or fight? As you explore this reflection, try to be curious, not judgmental. One of the aspects I love the most about this teaching from Strozzi and Generative Somatics is that they remind us that our CT’s are well earned. We learned them as survival skills and they have protected us. We do not have to demonize them (Strozzi-​ Heckler 2014). In fact, they likely will not change if we become embattled with

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Embodying Our Feminism  31 them. We can be grateful for how they have taken care of us and recognize that we have other options. In order to do the latter, we need to ask our selves the following question: What is that CT taking care of? (Strozzi Institute 2019; Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). For example, in the example from my childhood I  gave earlier, my emotional literacy and tendency to take care of people and smooth things over protected my safety and belonging: as long as I took care of things, there would be less conflict (since I learned that conflict wasn’t good—​another lesson I have had to unlearn). I would also be seen as valuable so I would have some degree of connection. This behavior, then, served and protected me for many years and it helped me develop some very valuable skills. I do not need to demonize it—​and you do not need to demonize your CTs either. But I do want other choices, since I want to have my own emotional needs met too and be able to set boundaries. I want to be able to engage in healthy conflict when necessary. And I want to do all those things while still having access to dignity, safety, and belonging. That means I need to learn new automatic reactions.You may want a wider range of choices in your reactions as well. CTs often show up as a contraction, or a tightening. They will automatically arise when we are under pressure unless we practice something else (Strozzi-​ Heckler 1993). Our CTs exist for a reason, and that reason is connected to our instinctual human desire and birthright of dignity, safety, and belonging. So, if we learned over time to react to pressure in a particular way, it’s because it was trying to take care of us. We can honor that. But we can also recognize it may not always get us where we want to go. They may no longer serve us or they may not align with our values, but they won’t transform by fighting them and they won’t transform by simply thinking new behaviors. It’s learned at an embodied level and it has to be transformed at an embodied level. Once we begin working with our patterns, we become increasingly able to notice them when we are caught up in them, bring ourselves back to center faster, and make different choices in how we respond (rather than react). If we can learn that we have other choices, we can decide whether to use our CTs intentionally or whether to enact a different practice. We also become better able to recognize the CTs of others and have more compassion for them. Once we become familiar with our CTs, what triggers them, and why, once we realize that we are dissatisfied with the outcomes of those reactions, we can “learn other ways to take care of what they were taking care of ” (Maina and Haines 2008, 2). While society has shaped us, we can shape back (“Somatics and Politics” 2018). We can cultivate more purposeful ways of addressing those needs. We can learn to show up in ways that more fully align with our feminist values.

The Discomfort of Change It’s important to remain grounded in your values (which is why I  suggested you read them at least once, preferably three times a day), because learning new practices will be uncomfortable. Our default practices are known qualities, and their familiarity makes them somewhat comfortable, even if they no longer serve

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32  Embodying Our Feminism us. Moreover, there is a common trajectory that happens when people shift to intentional practices, and knowing this pattern can help us avoid some of the pitfalls. Often, we do well in the beginning because our commitment is fresh and new. But once that honeymoon phase wears off, all of our resistance to change will likely emerge (Maina and Haines 2008). So pay attention to the resistances that arise when you try new practices, because those are important parts of the process—​they kick in to preserve the deep conditioning.They tell you a great deal about yourself and your learned conditioning, which you need to know in order to transform how you show up. Transformation will involve some discomfort. It’s inevitable. Mainstream U.S. culture tells us that discomfort is bad and so we avoid it with everything from binge watching Netflix to emotional eating to shop therapy. But mindfulness teaches us that in the discomfort lies the critical work and on the other side of it lies possibility. As Strozzi-​Heckler writes, “These points of discomfort are doorways that we can use to begin living in our body … [which means] experiencing life through our feelings, sensations, and interactions and not simply from our projections and memories” (1993, 8).We can’t transform ourselves or the world around us without working through discomfort. Mindfulness offers the tools to do so. Eventually, our capacity to sit with it grows. The feminist values you outlined earlier in the chapter are critical to this process because they provide the motivation for staying with the discomfort. Otherwise, why do the hard work of transformation? Something is motivating us to change, and our commitment fuels the strength to stay with the process. Let me clarify that there is a big difference between discomfort and the trauma of oppression. The latter is deeply painful and it is unhealthy to dwell in that trauma, at least without professional support (more on that in the next chapter). I  am not saying we should sit with trauma. But the discomfort of having our worldview and our learned conditioning interrupted—​that kind of discomfort is necessary. Both mindfulness and somatics offer us the skills to sit with the discomfort, reflect upon it, and work through it. The reward for this work is nothing short of a better world. We learn to “embody new ways of being” with ourselves and each other. As we move through the rest of the book, let’s continue this pulsating reflection, simultaneously moving inward/​ out and outward/​ in. Let our feminist principles infuse our very being, radiating through our responses, our actions, our relationships, and our politics. Keep unsettling default practices that no longer serve us and nourishing practices that better align with our feminist vision. In that process lies the possibility of transformation.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Liz was struggling with high anxiety and stress a few years ago and some friends suggested she try meditation.Though it was difficult at first (sometimes, she found she felt more stressed after meditation because she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about everything she had to do), she eventually found some guided meditations that gave her something else on which to focus (like a reflection, or

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Embodying Our Feminism  33 her breath, or a sound) that helped her calm her mind. She felt calmer and more centered after meditating. She also started practicing yoga, which helped her learn to remain grounded as she moved. She found herself drawing on these practices a great deal in her life off her mat. As she deepened her self-​exploration in both of these practices, she also started exploring why she reacts the way she does in different moments. She began to notice certain patterns: like how she immediately tries to avoid deep discomfort, or how she gets physically smaller when someone else expresses anger. At first she judged these patterns when she noticed them, but her yoga teacher always invites her to meet her experience with curiosity and compassion. So she’s been trying that. She’s found that practicing self-​reflection with nonjudgment is easier in meditation or in her yoga practice than it is in life. But she has started a daily journal practice, where she can reflect on experiences in her life. So even if she can’t yet do so in the moment, she can reflect back on the situation and explore more deeply in her journal. She is also noticing this deep reflection is sometimes unsettling, so she has started seeing a therapist to support her on her journey. She has found someone who offers sliding scale rates. This practice is slowly helping her be more present in her life. She is beginning to notice when she reacts in ways she wishes she hadn’t, and is trying to learn to take a breath in those moments before speaking or acting. She can’t always manage it, but when she can, she notices that she is happier with how she responds.

Notes 1 The tradition of somatics that I have been studying (with Generative Somatics and the Strozzi Institute) focuses on developing a commitment, which is a statement of purpose that is aspirational: something we want to embody. This is a clear statement that highlights who and how we want to be in the world. This type of commitment usually emphasizes something you want to live into in the next 6–​12 months. However, I am adapting this exercise to talk more broadly about feminist values. Once we have that larger visioning and purpose as a framework, we can narrow it down to more shorter-​term  goals. 2 Remember that some of these explorations, especially the intense ones, are best done with the support of professional therapists.

References Berila, Beth. Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-​Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education. New York: Routledge, 2016. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Brown, Brené. Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution. New York: Spegel & Grau, 2015. Chödrön, Pema. Practicing Peace in Times of War. Boston, MA: Shambhala Publications, 2007. Emergent Strategy Training. Minneapolis, MN. May 2019. Fernandes, Leela. Transforming Feminist Practice: Non-​Violence, Social Justice, and the Possibilities of a Spiritualized Feminism. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books, 2003.

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34  Embodying Our Feminism Generative Somatics. “What Is Politicized Somatics?” Somatics and Trauma Course, 2014. Accessed November 11, 2019. https://​generativesomatics.org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​ 2019/​10/​Copy-​of-​What-​is-​a-​politicized-​somatics.pdf. Generative Somatics. “T1 and T2 Training.” Los Angeles, CA, June/​July 2018. Johnson, Rae. Embodied Social Justice. New York: Routledge, 2018. Levine, Peter. In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2010. Maina, Ng’ethe and Staci K. Haines. “The Transformative Power of Practice.” 2008. Accessed November 11, 2019. https://​generativesomatics.org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​ 2019/​10/​Transformative-​Power-​of-​Practice.pdf. Manuel, Zenju Earthlyn. The Way of Tenderness: Awakening through Race, Sexuality, and Gender. Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications, 2015. Pursor, Ronald. McMindfulness: How Mindfulness Became the New Capitalist Spirituality. London: Repeater Books, 2019. Shara, Nathan. “The Power of Embodied Transformation.” Coaches Rising Online Training. Summer 2019. www.coachesrising.com/​powerofembodiedtransformation/​. “Somatics and Politics,” with Sumitra Rajkumar. Healing Justice Podcast, January 16, 2018. Accessed November 26, 2019. https://​podtail.com/​en/​podcast/​healing-​justice-​ podcast/​12-​somatics-​politics-​sumitra-​rajkumar/​. Strozzi-​Heckler, Richard. The Anatomy of Change: A Way to Move through Life’s Transitions. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 1993. Strozzi-​Heckler, Richard. The Art of Somatic Coaching: Embodying Skillful Action,Wisdom, and Compassion. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2014. Strozzi-​Heckler, Richard. “The Power of Embodied Transformation.” Coaches Rising Online Training. Summer 2019. www.coachesrising.com/​powerofembodiedtrans formation/​. Strozzi Institute. “Somatic Bodywork Seminar, Level One.” Petaluma, CA. June 2019. Taylor, Sonya Renee. The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-​Love. Oakland, CA: Berrett-​Koehler, 2018. Treleaven, David A. “The Power of Embodied Transformation.” Coaches Rising Online Training. Summer 2019. www.coachesrising.com/​powerofembodiedtransformation/​.

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3  Oppression, Trauma, and Embodied Healing

Oppression, Trauma, and Embodied Healing1 Content warning:2 Be mindful about your wellbeing while reading this chapter. Stop reading and seek professional support if you find yourself triggered. Those of us who are marginalized carry with us layers of oppression: the wounds of the cumulative/​microaggressions we experience daily and the traumas of the larger, macroaggressions that target not just us, but also our communities—​ not just now, but also for generations. We hold those wounds in our hearts, our psyches, and in our bodies, both as individuals and as collective bodies. Systems of oppression create, perpetuate, and deepen those wounds. Here are just a few examples:3 • Sam (Dakota) spent the past couple of weeks at the Oceti Sakowin camp protesting the Dakota Pipeline. He is both empowered by the power of the community and resistance of Native people and deeply hurt by the violent acts of security forces against the protesters (including dogs, tear gas, and cages). He came back just in time to start university classes (at the college that is actually located on Native land, not that they acknowledge that). His professor asks the students to talk to the person next to them to get to know each other, so he turns to his classmate, Jim, and sees that Jim is wearing a Redskins T-​shirt. Sam feels his hurt and anger, so near the surface, erupt. He tells Jim the T-​shirt is offensive, but Jim just trots out all the usual deflections: “it’s just a mascot,” Sam is being too “sensitive,” and so on. Sam gets angrier by the minute, but also increasingly numb. • Mai spent many years of her childhood in a refugee camp. Her parents fled Laos when she was just a baby, and they lived in a refugee camp until she was nine. She has a loving family and many community members loved and cared for her in the camp, but the trauma of fleeing, the violence they were fleeing, the pain of dislocation, and the uncertainty took their toll. She is now very quiet, not because of the stereotype of “passive Asian women,” as some people think, but because it was her coping mechanism for all those years. Underneath it all simmers pain and anger. • Susan is a trans woman working in a local nonprofit. Life is more secure and welcoming now than it was in her hometown growing up, where she came

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36  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing out as queer and transitioned. Those years back home were full of discrimination and violence, including a sexual assault. She tries to forget and just go on with her life. Her co-​workers are super friendly and she feels like she finally fits in, but some of them are huggers, and she doesn’t like to be touched without permission. The other day, someone came up behind her and put a hand on her back; she jumped right out of her chair. She knows the person was just being friendly, but the unexpected touch triggered her. It took her a few minutes to calm her breathing and heart rate. These types of experiences are all too common: a larger trauma of oppression is compounded by its everyday manifestations. Usually they are both produced by systems of oppression, as can be seen in the examples above. Moreover, many marginalized groups do not get to heal from all that violence, both because it is still happening and also because marginalized groups tend to be under-​resourced (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018). We bring wounds from unresolved trauma with us into all aspects of our lives, at least until they are healed. Even when we are not directly affected, there are secondary effects of this violence. There are the wounds that come from being the one directly targeted, and then there are secondary wounds that come from watching our communities (or those to which we are connected) targeted over and over again, knowing it could happen to us and/​or those we love at any moment (called secondary or vicarious trauma). One moment when this experience became visceral for me occurred a couple of years ago on an early June morning. I woke up to soft light from the sunrise, birds singing. I sat down on my sofa, cup of coffee in my hand, settling in to my place on the sofa and waiting for my kitten to snuggle me—​all my daily morning rituals to start my day in a grounded and loving way. I  opened my laptop and started scrolling through my Facebook feed. And there it was. Post after post of the mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub. Forty-​nine people killed, 58 wounded. Face after beautiful face of LGBTQAI+ folk who were murdered or injured.The shooting at the Pulse nightclub on Latinx night on June 12, 2016 in Orlando, Florida had happened the night before. My stomach dropped. My eyes widened then collapsed. I felt waves of horror, anger, and sadness—​ intense emotions battling with the need to collapse in numbness. I stopped feeling my kitten, didn’t notice if I drank my coffee. I hungrily consumed news story after news story, trying to learn what had happened. Amidst my devastation, I  also thought immediately of my GWS students, who would need support through this tragedy. As soon as I saw that the shooter was a man of color—​Omar Mateen—​I also knew that the media and conservative groups would use this event to try to pit LGBTQAI+ communities against Muslim communities (as though there aren’t Queer Muslims. As though we aren’t all harmed and marginalized by systems of oppression). My political resolve to refuse to be used in that way battled with my deep grief, until I was awash in raw emotion. In this case, the place really matters: the killer attacked a queer nightclub. In the LGBTQAI+ community, nightclubs have historically been a space of solace, community, and safety for many of us. When the wider world has been overflowing

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  37 with homophobic and transphobic oppression, nightclubs have been a place where we can let our guard down, be who we are without hiding, and connect with one another. They are also spaces of resistance: the Stonewall riots, after all, were sparked by drag queens fighting back after years of police raids and violence in our clubs. This particular night at Pulse was a Latinx night, which compounds the violence. So this attack was devastating not just because of the lives lost, but also because it targeted a space that was supposed to be a sanctuary—​a space that was a site of community building and resistance. (This is similar to the devastation experienced when Dylann Roof attacked a Black church in Charleston or when mosques are attacked. There are layers of devastation when the sanctuaries of marginalized groups are invaded and attacked). I share this story because those of us who are part of marginalized communities experience the violence of oppression on multiple levels, and we do not leave those experiences as we move through our lives. Though I was not directly affected by the violence at Pulse (I didn’t know anyone who was there that night) and though I  am relatively privileged as a queer, white, cisgender, middle-​class woman, I nevertheless felt some of the pain of that tragedy ripple throughout my community. The violence of oppression occurs in many layers.

PRACTICE 3.1  Cultivating Ongoing Self-​Awareness Practice Note: As is always the case throughout this book, please skip any practices that feel unhealthy for you. As you are reading this chapter (and any of the others) try to remain aware of your responses on all these levels: Your thoughts Your emotions Your physical and bodily sensations If you start to feel too overwhelmed to reflect on your reactions, practice grounding. Feel your feet on the floor or your legs on the chair, consciously connecting to the Earth through whatever part of your body is closest to it. You might even run your hands up and down your arms, like you are giving yourself a hug. Feel the boundaries of your skin—​where your body touches air around you. Notice your breath moving in and out of your lungs.

Oppression as Trauma4 There has been a great deal of discussion about trauma in contemporary public consciousness.When people think of traumatic events, car crashes, natural disasters, assaults, and war often come to mind.Trauma can indeed be a one-​time event, like a major accident (called a shock trauma); it can also be violence or neglect during

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38  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing childhood at the hands of caregivers (called developmental trauma) (van der Kolk, 2014).5 While these two categories describe many forms of traumatic events, there are other forms of trauma as well—​and systems of oppression produce many of them. According to yoga teacher, counselor, and somatic practitioner, Hala Khouri, “Trauma is anything that overwhelms our capacity to cope and respond, and leaves us feeling helpless, hopeless, and out of control” (Khouri 2016; Levine 2010). Staci K. Haines, author of The Politics of Trauma: Somatics, Healing, and Social Justice, draws on somatics to define trauma as: “an experience, series of experiences, and/​or impacts from social conditions that break or betray our inherent need for safety, belonging, and dignity” (2019, 74). Trauma happens at an individual level but it also happens systemically. Trauma is arguably behind much of the violence in the world—​both that is directed at others and the kind that implodes, liked addiction or depression (Levine 2010). Acts of racism, genocide, misogyny, domestic abuse, transphobia, homophobia, anti-​ Semitism, and utter poverty, among many other forms of oppression, most certainly create conditions of violence that are out of people’s control (Johnson 2018; Leighton 2018). When someone is from a marginalized group that is tracked into the prison industrial complex, or has had members of their family deported, or their sacred lands are defiled by oil pipeline spills, the pain and violence of those macroaggressions can be overwhelming and leave one hopeless. The type of trauma that results from oppression is different from a shock trauma, in that while it may result from a particular macroaggression (a hate crime, for instance), just as often it can accumulate from daily, ongoing aggressions from which one cannot escape: being followed in stores, verbally attacked for using a bathroom, seeing one’s culture paraded and caricatured in trite souvenirs, being pulled over for “driving while Black,” or being sexually harassed on the street. These cumulative/​microaggressions are onslaughts of never-​ending dehumanization, particularly when they are compounded by the consistent denial of resources and opportunities.They, too, can produce trauma. In the context of racism, Dr. Joy DeGruy calls this race-​based stress and trauma (Williams 2015; DeGruy 2005). They can create symptoms very similar to post-​traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), though Dr.  Resmaa Menakem, author of My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies, suggests that a more apt description would be “pervasive traumatic stress disorder” (2017, 15). We become traumatized when “anything from one’s life experience … remains trapped and unresolved, causing disturbances at the biological, physiological, emotional, mental, or behavioral levels” (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 9). Not all traumatic events result in being traumatized—​that happens when we are not allowed to complete and release the impulses that arise during the event. If there are unresolved, uncompleted energies stored in the body from a traumatic event, we will often shut away those energies, but they will continue to guide our responses in ways we may not recognize (Haines 2019). When a trauma occurs, our bodies respond in a Fight/​Flight/​Freeze response in order to survive the trauma. Our reptilian brain takes over so that we can have an immediate response to a threatening event. When a threat arises, the reptilian

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  39 and limbic parts of the brain can respond much faster than can the neo-​cortex (which is responsible for rational thought). When threats are not present, ideally the three portions of the brain work together and are governed by the neo-​cortex, or the “higher” thinking portion of the brain (Levine 2010; Khouri and Haglund 2016). However, “in the traumatized brain (and even a nontraumatized brain on a bad day), these parts operate separately and often battle with each other. The traumatized brain will tend to react as if there is immediate danger when there isn’t” (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 15; Levine 2010). In other words, we cannot trust our body to be an accurate “GPS system” when we are traumatized because it may tell us that situations are dangerous when they aren’t. The opposite can also be true: they can fail to tell us that dangerous situations are unsafe. I  remember a story Dr.  Chris Emdin, Professor of Science Education at Columbia University told in a HuffPost Live interview on racism: he said that when he was growing up, he was home when a car drove by shooting into his house. He hit the floor to avoid being shot. The next day, when he was in school, he heard a locker door slam and he hit the ground again. His body was reacting to the similar sound, reiterating the impulse of protection, even though the situation did not exactly warrant it. Though his reaction makes total sense when we see it in context, in school, he was labeled as “disruptive” for that behavior (“What Is the Psychological Impact of Racism” 2013). This story reveals several important components that we need to understand about trauma in the context of oppression. First, trauma is stored in our bodies and those tendrils will react when triggered. That means that in order to heal the effects of oppression, we need to heal the full soma. We cannot change the effects of oppression through reason and arguments alone. Menakem writes that, our bodies have a form of knowledge that is different from our cognitive brains. This knowledge is typically experienced as a felt sense of constriction or expansion, pain or ease, energy or numbness. Often this knowledge is stored in our bodies as wordless stories about what is safe and what is dangerous. (2017, 5) In making important links between embodied trauma and systemic and intergenerational oppression, Menakem writes that “white-​ body supremacy doesn’t live in our thinking brains. It lives and breathes in our bodies” (2017, 5).6 This realization seems obvious when we are talking about certain kinds of trauma, but it isn’t always addressed in social justice work around oppression. Fortunately, more and more social justice initiatives—​from Generative Somatics to the Movement Strategy Center to Healing Justice movements—​have been integrating this awareness into their movement work. Menakem goes on to write that, White-​body supremacy is always functioning in our bodies. It operates in our thinking brains, in our assumptions, expectations, and mental shortcuts. It operates in our muscles and nervous systems, where it routinely creates

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40  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing constriction. But it operates most powerfully in our lizard brains. Our lizard brain cannot think. It is reflexively protective and it is strong. (2017, 6) This point gives us critical insight about working toward social justice. It reveals that we cannot get to a more just world through rationality alone (and it explains why true, authentic discussions and oppression are so fraught.). If our neocortex cannot get a word in edgewise when the reptilian brain is overriding it to determine whether a situation is “safe” or not, then we are going to need to bring that system into regulation before we can even begin to have dialogues about oppression. That means healing our somas—​and our somas hold trauma differently, experience trauma differently, and all too often, participate in each other’s trauma. We need to heal our own trauma both for our own well-​being but also for that of those around us, since sometimes we act out the wounds of our traumas on the people around us (including other people working toward social justice). Second, as the example Emdin shares reveals, since the effects of traumatic events linger in our bodies, if they are not healed, they will often manifest in reactive ways, ways we may not recognize as trauma. His reaction was a coping mechanism that he didn’t even think about—​his body took over to protect him from a perceived threat. While in this case, the locker slamming was not actually a danger to him, in many cases, people from marginalized groups do not know when an everyday situation will turn violent; it can often go either way, so the hypervigilance is a protective mechanism from the ever-​present violence of oppression (Johnson 2018). This point works in tangent with the third one: that while Emdin’s bodily response to the sound of the locker makes total sense when we know he experienced a recent drive-​by shooting, instead of being seen as the victim in this situation, he was labeled the disruptor—​the one who’s behavior was “threatening the order” of the educational day. Notice the blaming of the victim going on here—​and recognize that similar reactions occur all the time when members of marginalized groups are responding to the daily, ongoing manifestations of oppression that compound the historical legacies of oppression.

What Happens When Trauma Is Unresolved? As I mentioned earlier, not all traumatic events result in us being traumatized.That happens when our reactions to a traumatic event are not allowed to be completed, in which case they get stored in our bodies. This can make us respond to neutral situations as though they are dangerous and/​or to miss the cues that something in our environment is unsafe.The ability of our body to be an effective “GPS system” around safety and danger has been distorted. When traumatic events are unresolved, they can lower our “capacity to self-​regulate” and cause us to react “impulsively and reflexively,” with “intense emotions driving our reactions” (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 15). We have less access to thoughtful decision-​making capabilities or the ability to process and analyze information. We may have difficulty with self-​control and have an overall sense of unease. Since the “nervous system

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  41 doesn’t know if something is real or not,” we might respond with Fight/​Flight/​ Freeze when there is nothing directly threatening us in the moment (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 15). The symptoms, though, can manifest in different ways for different people. Sometimes, they show up as being hypervigilant, constantly on-​ guard and activated. Others respond by becoming numb, depressed, or “stuck off.” Neither of these allows us to restore to a healthy nervous system (Levine 2010). Practices such as somatics help us complete our response in safer environments so that we can release excess energy, integrate the experience, and bring ourselves back into regulation (Levine 2010; Khouri and Haglund 2016, 20; Generative Somatics 2018). Regulation is “our ability to feel grounded, centered, and in present time” (Khouri 2016). I will talk more on that later in the chapter. I said earlier that when unresolved trauma is held in our bodies, something similar might occur in our environment that reminds us of the traumatic event, and our nervous system might respond in the Fight/​Flight/​Freeze mode even when the current moment is not unsafe. I  want to both talk more about this point and trouble it a bit. This point makes sense if we are talking about shock trauma—​those one-​time events, like a car accident, that happen, are over, and then we need to recover from their aftermaths. This process gets much more complicated when the trauma we are talking about is an ongoing system of oppression, because it is not a one-​time event, but rather a historical and daily occurrence. Racial profiling, poverty, and transphobia are results of systemic oppression that is deeply embedded throughout society and historically rooted. They have affected our communities for generations before us, and we live today with those legacies. Marginalized groups are still in the midst of active trauma. Talk of healing this type of trauma needs to recognize these particular elements about how oppression works. When we experience trauma but have the access to resources to deal with it, we are less likely to become traumatized. However, not accidently, the same communities that are traumatized in this way also systemically tend to lack the structural resources structurally to address it. (It is also critical to note that these same communities are often incredibly resilient—​more about that later in this chapter). Another key characteristic of the trauma of oppression is that it is not always clear which situations will turn dangerous. When we are from a marginalized group, everyday exchanges can turn dangerous in a second and often we do not know which way it will go. With oppression, there are reasons for hypervigilance (Johnson 2018). Exchanges with police can turn deadly in a split second when we are people of color. Strangers in a store dressing room can quickly turn hostile if they are uncomfortable with our gender performance. A space that is supposed to be “safe,” like a yoga studio, can turn appropriative and exclusionary when one sees one’s culture misrepresented or commodified. A passing exchange can easily turn sexually harassing, and one never knows when a request for one’s phone number can turn violent if the person is rejected. These examples illustrate that not only can certain daily interactions be triggering, they can also be potentially dangerous. When we endure these cumulative aggressions every day, hypervigilance makes sense. In these situations, maybe it is not so much that our body’s GPS system is

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42  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing distorted—​maybe it is spot on but the situations are unpredictable. (Or maybe it is a both/​and.) The field of epigenetics is increasingly showing us that traumas can be passed down through generations not just through cultural patterns and behaviors, but also through our very DNA. “Trauma can change the expression of the DNA in our cells” and this adaptation can be passed on from parent to child (Menakem 2017, 40). Eduardo Duran calls it the “soul wound,” drawing on his work in Native communities (Duran et al., 1998). Not only is trauma passed on, genetically, from generation to generation, but science is also discovering that memories can be, too, and these tend to be held in the body, not just the “thinking brain” (Menakem 2017, 40). Some suggest that these genetic adaptations are ways of one generation helping future generations cope with and survive conditions of oppression (Menakem 2017, 41). Much work on epigenetics comes in the context of the Holocaust for Jewish communities, the colonization and genocide of Native American communities, and the enslavement of African Americans (Duran 2006; DeGruy 2005; Yahuda 2017; Duran et al. 1998). Dr. Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart (Hunkpapa and Oglala-​Lakota) uses the term historical trauma to refer to the “cumulative emotional and psychological wounding over the lifespan and across generations, emanating from massive group trauma” (2017). This is often accompanied by deep, unresolved grief over generations, which is compounded by ongoing, contemporary oppression. This kind of trauma and grief can result in ongoing violence, directed both externally and internally. High rates of depression, PTSD, addiction, diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer, and other health issues pervade communities who are dealing with historical trauma. Yellow Horse Brave Heart outlines four stages to healing from this trauma for Native communities: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Confronting historical trauma and embracing our history; Understanding the trauma; Releasing our pain; Transcending the trauma. (Yellow Horse Brave Heart 2017)

Though it is beyond the scope of this chapter to go in depth into discussions of historical trauma and epigenetics, suffice it to say here that they deeply affect our contemporary communities and need to be healed on both individual and collective levels. When we don’t heal this individual and communal pain, it insinuates itself in our somas and our communities. Trauma is not just an individual thing because it is not just an event. It is our body’s response to unresolved pain and undischarged energy and it often “spreads between bodies, like a contagious disease” (Menakem 2017, 37). Menakem notes that when one “settled body” encounters another, both bodies settle more deeply. But when an unsettled body encounters another, they compound one another (2017, 39). In a recent Generative Somatics training in which I  participated, we were asked to work with a partner. One person was supposed to move in a centered way, the other in a deliberately uncentered way. When we began the practice, I noticed that it was difficult to remain uncentered

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  43 in the face of my partner’s very centered self; their grounded centeredness helped ground me, so that I actually had to work to remain uncentered.This process, then, can be a highly useful practice in social justice work. Though it can manifest in different ways, Cara Page, a founding member of Kindred Healing Justice collective, notes a few key ways that trauma shows up: One of the long term impacts of collective trauma is collective disassociation … How can we understand it is not just as a physical experience but an emotional one that on a cellular level goes way back? … There is also a disconnect from memory, a disconnect from traditions that we know ourselves that we have built there in our bodies … but we have been so far removed from the land or from the practices or our practices have been criminalized that we no longer even have a memory of what we know. (2013) Part of healing, then, is to remember this deep internal and communal wisdom. Menakem notes that there are many practices, often ones embedded in cultural traditions, that help resource and heal this kind of trauma, including drumming, dancing, singing, wailing, and so on (2017). Some of these practices were outlawed for particular communities as part of the slavery, colonization, or other forms of oppression. As Dr. Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart writes, We are survivors of intergenerational trauma, not just traumas within our lifespan. Our culture and history also influence the way we show our symptoms and the way in which we manifest our symptoms … We have a lot of wisdom in our culture and we have a lot of traditional healing practices … But a lot of that was outlawed by the federal government policies around 1883. We were not able to practice that in an open, communal way without having to worry about somebody coming in and arresting us or stopping us from doing that. (2005) In this context, reclaiming and reconnecting to one’s own cultural healing wisdom is a critical part of the healing process. Menakem also makes a distinction between “clean” and “dirty” pain. The former, while hard, helps us “metabolize pain,” repair our trauma and develop new ways of being, at the individual and collective levels. Processing this clean pain enables dominant groups to “confront their longtime collective disassociation and silence” and marginalized groups to heal the deep “internalization of defectiveness and self-​hate” (2017, 20).7 “Dirty pain” involves blame and denial, which results in people acting out their own wounds onto others, thereby continuing the cycle of pain and violence. This kind of pain can show up even in social justice movements. Because many people, especially from marginalized groups, turn to organizing as a way of handling their trauma, as an outlet for doing something about it, those movements can be deeply healing. But in order for them to

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44  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing embody that possibility, movements need to build in ways to heal from the trauma of oppression (which is what Healing Justice organizing does) (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018). If we don’t acknowledge that unresolved trauma is present in our organizing, then the shame and pain ends up being turned on each other. Many of the tensions that emerge in social justice movements are very possibly manifestations of unresolved trauma that then get acted out on each other. That can be remedied when we find ways to integrate healing into the fabric of our social justice organizing.

Cultivating Individual and Collective Resilience In order to heal from trauma as individuals, we need to bring ourselves back into regulation. To self-​regulate means to find ways “to feel safe, grounded and present” (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 5). The ability to have some control over our reactions can itself be empowering because in the moment of trauma, we were denied agency and choice—​things were done to us. So to have some options, some ways to settle ourselves and move ourselves from a gut reaction to the ability to more intentionally respond can itself be part of the healing process, because we are reclaiming some degree of agency. Resourcing often helps with that because it helps settle our nervous systems and our minds. As Khouri and Haglund note, The key to helping shift a traumatized person into a state of self-​regulation and peace is to help them to safely discharge this energy … The nervous system does not follow the rules of time, so no matter how long ago the situation occurred, if something in the current environment triggers the memory (consciously or unconsciously), it feels like the person is back in that experience (on a body level). The good news is that these patterns, no matter how old, can be interrupted and changed.The key is creating resource where there hasn’t been one. (2016, 23) So having some practices we can draw on in moments of dysregulation can help settle us. We also often need more sustained and even professional support to help heal from trauma, as it can be a long process.

PRACTICE 3.2 Anchoring in the Present Moment: Orienting, Grounding, Centering, and Breath These four practices are useful resourcing tools. They are not substitutes for medical or psychological help. They also will not work for everyone in every moment. But they are strategies to help anchor us in present space and time and to calm our reactions. Many trauma experts have outlined these practices; I learned them from Hala Khouri and Kyra Haglund, so that is whom I will cite here (2016).

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  45 Orienting Orienting helps us locate ourselves in present time and space. It can also help us realize we are not in present danger, which can help calm anxiety.We can look around at our present surroundings to help bring ourselves back into regulation. Physically, actively moving our head back and forth can help relax our neck muscles (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 24). Try it: Breathe as deeply as possible and look around the room. Notice the smells, colors, and textures. Try to notice four blue items in the room. (Or pick what feels pleasurable to you—​color, texture—​and look for things that have that). (Note: this action can be done energetically if not physically.) Grounding Grounding can help calm anxiety and disassociation (which tends to move energy up and away from our legs and feet). We can feel much safer and more secure when we feel grounded, so this practice is a resource that can allow us to be more responsive and feel more empowered (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 25). Try it: Feel your feet on the floor and energize your legs, drawing your muscles to the bones. You might even lift your toes and notice how that action energizes your lower legs. Lower your toes and image that your roots go all the way down to the center of the Earth. Soften your knees.With each inhalation, imagine drawing energy up from the center of the Earth through your feet and legs. As you exhale, imagine sending that energy back down through the Earth. Each breath is a pulsating connection that stabilizes and grounds you. (Note: this action can be done energetically if not physically.) Centering Being centered means being anchored in a source of personal power, knowing who you are. Often, we may lack a strong sense of self or tie our sense of self to others (which can then be easily destabilized). We may not know what it feels like to be centered, but we may know precisely what it feels like to be uncentered.We can center ourselves by getting in touch with our navel or abdominal region (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 25). Try it: Draw your breath up into your navel center, exhaling from that same region.Try to draw your breath all the way down into your diaphragm (making it deeper, not shallow). Draw your navel center up, lifting your pelvic floor. Breath The breath is a resourcing lifeline. Deep breaths can create a calming response. Since disassociation and anxiety usually keeps us in the past or future, breathing can help anchor us in the present time and place. However, accessing deep breaths may be difficult if we are anxious, which is why

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46  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing the previous practices are useful—​they may automatically allow for deeper breaths. If trying to breathe deeply makes one feel more anxious, let that go and try the other practices (Khouri and Haglund 2016, 26). Try it: Take several deep breaths, trying to fill up your diaphragm, the middle of your torso, and your upper torso. Exhale in the reverse order. Slow the breaths down and try to make your in breaths and out breaths even; perhaps even count: Inhale: 1-​2-​3-​4-​5 /​ Exhale: 1-​2-​3-​4-​5.

Cultivating Resilience Resourcing to bring us back into regulation is one tool for cultivating resilience, which is the ability to adapt and bounce back from adversity or trauma. In the context of social justice, it’s important to note that resilience happens both individually and collectively. Marginalized communities already have deep wells of resilience; it’s how they have survived decades of oppression. Resilience is both learned and can be passed down and transmitted from one person to another. Generative Somatics notes that resilience includes “[t]‌he ability to live through, deepen, heal and act after the often devastating experiences of systemic oppression and personal trauma” (2011, 3). The organization Generation 5 notes, Resilience is the ability to holistically (mind, body, spirit and relationship) respond to and renew ourselves during and after trauma. It is the ability to shift ourselves from automatic survival responses—​some of which may be useful, some of which may have undesired consequences—​to a more calm, connected and cohesive place. (2007, 22) As communities, we don’t just share negative components (through trauma), we can also share resilience. As Menakem notes, “Resilience manifests in a form that is more about being than doing … [it] helps us stay grounded and settled, no matter what happens to us … It’s a way for our bodies to access possibility and coherence, no matter what the circumstances” (2017, 51). It can be developed, strengthened, and shared. In fact, Menakem refers to it as a flow: “it moves through the body and between multiple bodies when they are harmonized” (2017, 51). I love this idea of resilience as a flow within us and between us, because it suggests a dynamic pulsation: as we heal individuals, we heal communities, and as we heal communities, we heal individuals. Cara Page, founder of the Kindred Collective, defines collective resilience as: “Being able to transform inside of perhaps the worst conditions, but still on a cellular level being able to respond to, intervene or transform what has been done to us or on us” (Page 2013). As the idea of resilience has gained more traction in social justice conversations, there have also been some concerns about who is tasked with cultivating resilience. Some have noted that those communities who are continuously targeted with violent oppression are also told to endure it and develop resilience. Some are

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  47 concerned that (1) this call to resilience is problematic if it isn’t also accompanied with direct efforts to change the oppressive conditions that require that resilience; and (2) that the call for resilience is code for passivity (“Conversations in Healing Justice” 2017). As we integrate healing into our movements, we need to be sure not to reproduce these conditions.

When We’re Still In It If we are feminists committed to both social justice and being mindful, then chances are we are bearing witness to a great deal of pain. Depending on the particular social justice work we do, we likely have heard countless stories of domestic abuse and sexual assault and just as many stories of racial profiling and daily acts of racial oppression. We may have seen the struggles of LGBTQAI+ folk as they come out, deal with their families, or experience the community responses to their gender transition. We may witness the trauma of refugees. All of these issues may also directly affect us and our communities. Whether it is direct trauma or secondary trauma, social justice change-​makers are often at the center of it. This trauma needs to be healed if we are going to truly create a more just world. We need to heal it not just to help those marginalized by oppression (including our own communities), but also in the very work we do to interrupt systems of oppression. Our very change work has to be healing work, otherwise we will simply recreate the structures under another name. The latter is a danger in part because when we are dealing with unresolved trauma, at both individual and collective levels, we are more likely to act out in ways that perpetuate violence, towards ourselves and others. In order to stop this cycle, we need to heal it. That healing needs to come not after we achieve justice but on the very path of justice. That’s why I have been so inspired by Healing Justice (HJ) movements. I don’t suggest that HJ efforts are the only path, but they do raise some important insights into how and why healing and social justice need to work hand in hand. These efforts build “healing justice into the very fabric of social change itself.” (“Welcome to Our Virtual Practice Space” 2017). Queer and trans people of color, particularly Black, Brown, and Indigenous queer, working class, and those living with dis/​ability founded the term and the movement.8 It is positioned at the nexus of racial, economic, queer, and dis/​ability justice. Many of its founders/​ key leaders are based in the U.S. South and come from Indigenous and Black Southern healing traditions (Piepzna-​Samarasinha n.d.). Healing Justice movements recognize that it is no accident that (1) marginalized communities endure toxic oppression every day and over generations; (2) unresolved trauma and the stress of enduring this toxicity results in higher rates of certain illnesses in marginalized communities; and (3) these same communities are typically under-​resourced for wellness and health care. As the website for Kindred Healing Justice notes, At the same time, [that oppression is rampant], our communities are under resourced to respond to systemic conditions of trauma, violence and abuse. Western-​ based health models in the U.S.  are based on profit-​ making

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48  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing privatization that isolates the individual from their community in the process of their healing or treatment. Often this model only relies on modifying the individual’s behavior without addressing their social conditions. Simultaneously, many of our communities have been forcibly removed from land and resources that traditionally enabled us to communally respond to the emotional and physical needs of our communities. This loss of connection from our traditions has severed our cultural memory of how to build wellness into our daily practices. (Kindred Healing Justice 2018) The connections made in this quote are really important, because they not only illustrate how deeply enmeshed oppression and disease/​dis-​ease are, they also point out that part of how oppression works is to sever marginalized communities from their own cultural healing wisdom. Part of recovering wellness is to reclaim that connection, to restore cultural memory, and to re-​establish daily rituals of cultural and community interconnection. Healing Justice, then, also centers the deep resilience that marginalized communities have long cultivated. It is located in the long tradition of social change agents of color, including Womanism and Indigenous decolonization movements, to bring liberation into our hearts and bodies, unearthing the toxic effects of oppression on both the individual and collective levels. HJ integrates the work of healing with the work of justice. Cara Page notes that “Our movements themselves have to be healing, or there’s no point to them” (Kindred Healing Justice 2018). HJ recognizes that as we work to change systems of oppression, if we are going to avoid reproducing the same oppressive conditions under a different guise, we need to fundamentally transform how we are in the world, with ourselves, and with each other. It recognizes that the broad “we” here will include many different identities, with different lived experiences, and often with power dynamics between us that we need to resolve to truly build community. It recognizes that those who have been marginalized for generations need to heal and that in the constant onslaught of violence and oppression, to celebrate life, love, and joy is a radical act. HJ also challenges our social justice movements to move beyond the extractive, burnout, “give everything for the cause” models to instead center sustainable and compassionate activism. And it works to reclaim the deep cultural wisdom and practices that offer ways of building a new, healing, transformative, and sustainable future, in part by honoring the past. In the words of Prentis Hemphill, movement facilitator and former Director of Healing Justice at Black Lives Matter Global Network, “we heal so that we can act and organize” (2017).

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Carlos has to drag himself out of bed every morning, and it is getting harder and harder to do so. Once he does, he has several cups of coffee to try to get himself going. He checks his texts as soon as he can face it, and is not surprised at the flood of messages he finds.

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  49 There’s been another ICE raid nearby. His adrenaline starts going as he rides the subway to his job at a nonprofit organization that works with immigrant families. They’ve been working at high speed for the past several years (contrary to popular belief, the assault on immigrant communities did not start under Trump, though it has escalated). At work, he runs from one crisis to another, managing and maybe containing, but not solving before the next one hits. He has to tamp down the pain he feels at families being separated and the anger he feels at the ways employers take advantage of cheap immigrant labor but do nothing to protect the workers from ICE.The misguided public anti-​immigrant sentiment piles on, until he has to either explode or numb out. His doctor has told him to watch his blood pressure, since his father suffered a heart attack two years ago. In the midst of the latest crisis, Carlos finds himself about to lash out at his coworker. But then he remembers the practices that he has recently learned through somatics training. He asks for a moment, steps into an empty office, and grounds himself. He takes a couple of deep breaths and intentionally centers himself, remembering what he believes in and that his coworker is not the source of his anger. When he approaches her, he is much more grounded and they are able to have a productive dialogue about the issue. After that conversation, Carlos goes for a short walk in a nearby park. As he eats his lunch, he watches the kids play and smiles at their joy. Being in the sun, watching loving families connect, and listening to the birds helps him center even more. He spends ten minutes reading the writing of César Chávez, one of his role models and inspirations. When he goes back to the office, he finds himself able to do the same tasks in a much more compassionate way. He notices that people relate to him differently when he meets them with more openness. He also notices his shoulders relax and his heart open a bit more. Though he still faces all the challenges, he is able to meet them in a different way. This example is not to suggest that we can heal deep trauma by going for a walk. It often takes much deeper, more extended professional help or community practices such as ceremony, drumming, prayer, healing circles, and so on. And, having practices we can turn to in the moment and throughout our daily lives to center and ground ourselves can also be important to integrate into our lives and our social movement work.

Notes 1 The content of this chapter is not a substitute for professional therapeutic or medical help. Any discussion of trauma and violence has the potential to trigger; please reach out for professional/​medical help if needed. 2 I recognize that there is controversy over trigger warnings and what kind of material is labeled with them. There are many discussions throughout this book that might trigger people. I chose to explicitly put a warning on this chapter because it will directly discuss trauma. But if, at any time throughout the book, you feel deeply unsettled, please put down the book and connect with support systems and/​or professionals for help. 3 All stories in this book, except my own, are composites of people with whom I have worked or stories I have read over the years in order to protect the privacy of individuals.

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50  Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing 4 Since I am not a counselor or a psychotherapist, I will rely more heavily in this chapter on the words of those who are as I talk about trauma. 5 I am aware that Dr. Bessel van der Kolk was fired after allegations of “mistreatment of female employees” (Massprofit News 2018). I do not condone those actions. There is still some value in some of his work, however. This is one of the many situations in which feminists have to struggle with contradictions and complexity—​see more on this in the conclusion of the book. 6 Menakem writes about racial justice and uses the term “white body supremacy” instead of just white supremacy to note that all whites automatically benefit from systemic racism even if they don’t actively support it or believe in it. While his writing is in the context of racism, his insights also shed light on how trauma works in other systems of oppression. 7 Menakem is talking here specifically about whites and African Americans, though I think similar points can be made about other dominant and marginalized groups. 8 These roots in queer communities of color are important. I am aware of my positionality and power as a white woman as I write about it. I am attempting to connect readers to it while honoring and respecting the roots and insights of these movements.

References “Conversations in Healing Justice,” with Shawna Wakefield and Teresa Pasquale Mateus. Healing Justice Podcast. November 8, 2017. Accessed November 25, 2019. https://​podbay. fm/​podcast/​1308078502/​e/​1510158199. DeGruy, Joy. Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing. Portland, OR: Joy DeGruy Publications, 2005. Duran, Eduardo. Healing the Soul Wound: Counseling with American Indians and Other Native People. New York: Teachers College Press, 2006. Duran, Eduardo, Bonnie Duran, Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart, and Susan Yellow Horse-​Davis. “Healing the American Indian Soul Wound.” In International Handbook of Multigenerational Legacies of Trauma, edited by Yael Danieli, 341–​354. New York: Plenum Press, 1998. Generation 5. Toward Transformative Justice: A Liberatory Approach to Child Sexual Abuse and Other Forms of Intimate and Community Violence. A Call to Action for the Left and the Sexual and Domestic Violence Sectors. 2007. Accessed August 10, 2018. www.generationfive.org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2013/​07/​G5_​Toward_​Transformative_​ Justice-​Document.pdf. Generative Somatics. “Why Somatics for Social Justice and a Transformative Movement.” 2011. Accessed August 10, 2018. www.generativesomatics.org/​sites/​default/​files/​ Why%2BSomatics%2Bfor%2BSJ.pdf. Generative Somatics. “T1 and T2 Training.” Los Angeles, CA, June/​July 2018. Haines, Staci K. The Politics of Trauma: Somatics, Healing, and Social Justice. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2019. Hemphill, Prentis. “Healing Justice Is How We Can Sustain Black Lives.” Huffington Post. February 7, 2017. Accessed November 23, 2017. www.huffingtonpost.com/​entry/​ healing-​justice_​us_​5899e8ade4b0c1284f282ffe. Johnson, Rae. Embodied Social Justice. New York: Routledge, 2018. Khouri, Hala. “Yoga for Self-​Regulation and Trauma.” Online course. Off the Mat, Into the World. Summer 2016. Khouri, Hala and Kyra Haglund. Trauma-​ Informed Yoga: Concepts, Tools, and Skills. E-​Manual.  2016.

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Oppression,Trauma, and Embodied Healing  51 Kindred Healing Justice. “Needs and Strategies: The Need.” 2018. Accessed July 10, 2018. www.kindredhealingjustice.org/​needs-​strategies.html. Leighton, Lucia Bennett.“The Trauma of Oppression: A Somatic Perspective.” In Oppression and the Body: Roots, Resistance, and Resolutions, edited by Christine Caldwell and Lucia Bennett Leighton, 17–​30. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2018. Levine, Peter. In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2010. Massprofit News. “Trauma Center Reportedly Fires Medical Director for Alleged Bullying.” March 9, 2018. Accessed August 10, 2018. www.massnonprofit.org/​news. php?artid=5246&catid=11. Menakem, Resmaa. My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies. Las Vegas, NV: Central Recovery Press, 2017. Page, Cara. “Kindred Collective: Cara Page.” February 2013. Accessed November 20, 2017. www.healingcollectivetrauma.com/​cara-​page.html. Piepzna-​Samarasinha, Leah Lakshmi. “A Not-​So-​Brief Personal History of the Healing Justice Movement, 2010–​ 2016.” MICE. Accessed November 22, 2017. http://​ micemagazine.ca/​issue-​two/​not-​so-​brief-​personal-​history-​healing-​justice-​movement-​ 2010%E2%80%932016. “Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power with Generative Somatics,” with Spenta Kandawalla, Adrienne Maree Brown, Prentis Hemphill, and Staci K.  Haines. Healing Justice Podcast. July 5, 2018. Accessed September 2, 2019. https://​open.spotify.com/​ show/​4OkTmAz1S40cPUpu1IViNP. van der Kolk, Bessel. When the Body Keeps Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York:Viking, 2014. “Welcome to Our Virtual Practice Space,” with Kate Warning. Healing Justice Podcast. November 5, 2017. Accessed November 25, 2019. https://​healingjustice.podbean.com/​ e/​intro-​episode-​1509890535/​. “What Is the Psychological Impact of Racism?” HuffPost Live. May 21, 2013. Accessed May 7, 2015,. http://​live.huffingtonpost.com/​r/​segment/​can-​racism-​cause-​ptsd/​ 519d084c2b8c2a4ebc00010d. Williams, Monnica T. “The Link between Racism and PTSD.” Psychology Today. September 6, 2015. Accessed November 21, 2017. www.psychologytoday.com/​blog/​culturally-​ speaking/​201509/​the-​link-​between-​racism-​and-​ptsd. Yahuda, Rachel. “How Trauma and Resilience Cross Generations.” On Being with Krista Tippett. November 9, 2017. Accessed November 15, 2017. https://​onbeing.org/​ programs/​rachel-​yehuda-​how-​trauma-​and-​resilience-​cross-​generations-​nov2017/​. Yellow Horse Brave Heart, Maria. “From Intergenerational Trauma to Intergenerational Healing.” Wellbriety: White Bison’s Online Magazine 6, no. 6. May 23, 2005. Accessed November 22, 2017. www.sjsu.edu/​people/​marcos.pizarro/​maestros/​BraveHeart.pdf. Yellow Horse Brave Heart, Maria. “The Return to the Sacred Path: Reflections on the Development of Historical Trauma Healing.” 2017. Online Resource. Accessed September 1, 2019. www.ihs.gov/​sites/​telebehavioral/​themes/​responsive2017/​display_​ objects/​documents/​slides/​historicaltrauma/​htreturnsacredpath0513.pdf.

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4  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice

Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice “You should do this. Be that. You shouldn’t do this. Be that. You should be … thinner. Whiter. Quieter. Wealthier. Heterosexual. More independent. More dependent. More like them. Less like you,” says the shaming voice. The one that makes you feel less than.The one that preoccupies you, more often than you’d like. Do you recognize these voices? We are surrounded by the “shoulds.”The media tells us how to look and what to buy. The legal and criminal justice systems tell us whose lives are more worthy (look at which communities are disproportionately in prisons with longer sentences for similar crimes).We are told how to be healthy and “acceptable” in ways that often erase people who are living with disabilities and demean people with curvy bodies.We are told who to love.The “shoulds” tell us who to be and who not to be. They come from everywhere and they are constant. They are both unattainable and contradictory. But they are powerful. We often hold ourselves to the standards set by the “shoulds.” We try to align with them, devote a great deal of our energies trying to appease them. But they are insatiable and impossible to please.

PRACTICE 4.1  Recognizing Your “Shoulds” Before you begin, have a journal ready. You could also get a mirror and use a sharpie to write some of the toxic self-​talk on one side, then more empowering reframes on the other. The reflection of the mirror can deepen the activity—​and then you can display it somewhere you will see it to assist your unlearning/​relearning process. What are the “shoulds” that you hear? What do they tell you to be or not be? List them out. When do you hear them? When are they loudest? When do you feel most vulnerable to them? Journal about that. Who are those voices? Where do they come from? The media? Your family? Your friends? YOUR  voice? Now take one of those examples that you just named. Not the most vicious one, not the one that hurts you the most (do a little self-​care here), but one that you maybe have a little perspective on. Hold that voice and

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  53 message in your heart for a moment. Now reflect. How do you feel when you hear it? What happens in your body? Your mind? Your emotions? Your spirit? Do you feel invincible, beautiful, and empowered when that voice speaks that message? Or do you feel demoralized, shamed, wounded? Consider these questions: Does your body contract (if so where)? Do you flush and feel hot or get cold? What is the mental storyline that arises when you hear those messages? What do you tell yourself? Do they feel like truth, at least in the moment when they arise? Where might it be possible to get some distance from them, so that you can begin to recognize them as learned messages and turn down their volume? Take several deep breaths and maybe go for a short walk or put on your favorite, most empowering song. Think of a moment when you felt unconditionally loved or supported. Let that love run fully through you. Now try the practice above with a more empowering message. Tell yourself that you are worthy just as you are. Notice how the two messages make you feel differently.That is one way to discern which messages come from internalized oppression: our empowering, wise voice feels differently in our bodies and hearts (more on that soon). Once we can discern the difference, we can learn to turn down the volume on the toxic messages and amplify the empowering ones. Get clear on how those voices show up for you, what they say to you, and where they come from. Get even clearer on your embodied experience of those messages, because that is the signal that these messages are perpetuating wounds that need to heal. The “shoulds” are not some absolute standard of achievement or perfection (though they claim otherwise). The ones I  am talking about here are learned behavior. The way we know they are not voicing our best self is because of how demoralized we feel when they speak to us. Your embodied experience will tell you that those voices do not have your best interest at heart. No one who does will shame or berate or dehumanize you. But the “shoulds” will. As Sonya Renee Taylor notes in her book, The Body Is Not an Apology:The Power of Radical Self-​Love, The voice of doubt, shame, and guilt blaring in our heads is not our voice. It is a voice we have been given by a society steeped in shame. It is the “outside” voice. Our authentic voice, our “inside” voice, is the voice of radical self-​love! (2018, 15) The first step to unlearning them is to learn how and when they show up in your life. Then get very clear on how you feel when they speak to you, whether they

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54  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice come from your inner voice or from members of your community. That somatic thermometer will help raise the alarm so that we begin unearthing them.

The Imposter Syndrome The “shoulds” typically depend on and deepen our feelings of inadequacy, so they are compounded by another manifestation of these internal toxic messages: the Imposter Syndrome.The term was coined by two US psychologists, Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Imes, who defined it as a feeling of “phoniness” from people who believe they are inadequate even when they are intelligent and accomplished (1978).Their study focused on high-​achieving women who still felt like they didn’t deserve their success, but subsequent research has found that Imposter Syndrome strikes many people, not just women (Abrams 2018; Brown 2012; Langford and Clance 1993). The Imposter Syndrome sounds something like this: “Who do you think you are to do that? You are nowhere near good enough, talented enough, qualified enough, (insert whatever) enough. You are a FRAUD and people will figure it out soon enough.” Ouch. Ever heard that internal voice? It’s a pretty common form of internalized oppression, and it strikes even (or especially) high achievers. The great Maya Angelou wrote, “I have written eleven books, but each time I think ‘uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out” (qtd. in Richards 2015). Maya Angelou had these thoughts, even after great success. That’s how powerful it is. Many people suffer from the Imposter Syndrome, but we often don’t know that because it’s so shaming that we don’t let on. If people are going to find out soon enough that we are a fraud (as the Imposter Syndrome insists), why would we expedite that process by talking about our fears? Unfortunately, this silence breeds it and keeps us isolated from a support system that could lessen its power. I experience the Imposter Syndrome often, particularly before giving a talk or publishing a book (including this one). When it strikes, I both want to hide in shame and anxiety and ramp up my perfectionism, thinking if I just do everything perfectly, I won’t be an imposter. Of course, these two reactions compete with one another, as it is hard to “do better” when I am incapacitated with shame.When I have some perspective, though, the wiser part of me offers some guidance around the Imposter Syndrome. She both gently and fiercely reminds me that I do not have to be perfect to be worthy, that I  have something valuable worth offering, even if it isn’t perfect. In fact, scratch that: I have something valuable worth offering. PERIOD. (And so do you, by the way.) She reminds me that critique comes with the territory, but it doesn’t invalidate my offering. She reminds me that knowledge and wisdom is collectively created, after all. And if critique isn’t valid and constructive, I don’t have to take it in. This wise voice also reminds me that many of the people I deeply admire also struggle with the Imposter Syndrome. It is a learned voice of judgment designed to keep us small. As we direct our energies to managing, silencing, or falling prey to the Imposter Syndrome, we are siphoning off the power of our abilities to achieve our

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  55 full potential.That redirection of energies could produce a self-​fulfilling prophecy, which will only confirm our sense that we are not worthy.

But Why These Messages? We will never fully heal and reframe these storylines until we understand where they come from. They do not happen in a vacuum. Most of them emerge from systems of oppression. They are not the same for everyone, though there are some similarities. Think about it: if we are from a marginalized group, then we are bombarded with constant messages that devalue us. There may be a few token role models from our group, but mostly we are told the dominant group made our society what it is. Marginalized groups are saturated with messages that our group is not good enough.There are media stereotypes that criminalize, hypersexualize, pity, or otherwise dehumanize members of our group. In that context, how could we not begin to believe some of those toxic messages? Beverly Tatum describes the process like smog: the toxicity is so pervasive that we breathe it in (2008). Particularly when there is an absence of positive counter messages out there that celebrate the worth of our group, we begin to believe those harmful messages. This dynamic creates internalized oppression, which occurs when members of the marginalized group begin to take on and believe the harmful messages about their group (David 2014). It is one of the most insidious tools of oppression because the toxicity insinuates itself into our very being. Think about how our breath works. It is the vital life force that keeps us alive and that fuels all of our organs. If that breath is tainted by smog pollution, it will affect our entire being. That is how internalized oppression works. It is far deeper than self-​esteem, though it affects self-​esteem. Internalized oppression informs our very sense of self. Because of the trauma of oppression, we may develop what Kenneth Hardy calls “an assaulted sense of self,” which occurs when one’s very self-​definition gets formed in the midst of this oppressive barrage (Hardy 2013). That’s why I consider it one of the most insidious tools of oppression. When systemic oppression comes from outside of us, we have something apart from ourselves to fight against. We can sense it isn’t right. We can direct our anger and energies outwards to change it. But when the toxicity comes from within us, it is much harder to do that without fighting against ourselves, which compounds the violence. There is no identifiable source, so there is nowhere to direct our pain and anger. As a result, we often direct it internally, at ourselves and people who look like us (Sue 2010; David and Derthick 2014). Moreover, part of both oppression and internalized oppression is a sense of powerlessness and voicelessness, a sense that there are no good solutions. Hardy, in his article, “Healing the Hidden Wounds of Racial Trauma,” tells the story of a young Latino man who was racially profiled on a subway. This man knew he was being targeted, knew it was a form of violence, but also knew that if he interrupted it, it would likely both inflame the situation and confirm the stereotype. Harding writes, “[h]‌is options are severely limited … he either speaks up and risks appearing threatening or remains silent and has his sense of self further assaulted (Hardy 2013, 26).

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56  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice This is a no-​win situation for many members of marginalized groups. Think of the stereotype of the “angry Black woman” that exists in white supremacy culture. When Black women are subject to oppressive acts, if they interrupt those acts, they risk confirming the stereotype. It doesn’t actually matter how “polite” how “articulate,” how anything they are; anything they say, any way they say it risks confirming the stereotype, and most Black women know this. That no-​win situation is a side effect of oppression, and the feelings of rage and powerlessness can amplify the harm of both it and internalized oppression. In fact, internalized oppression is so good that we often don’t notice its toxicity. It seems like truth and it speaks in our voice (or the voice of our community), so without careful mindful discernment and a clear feminist understanding about how internalized oppression operates, it often goes unnoticed, which lets it work its harm much more easily. Internalized oppression takes many forms, but one of them is the harmful messages we tell ourselves about what we “should be” or how we are not adequate.Those are very often learned messages, and, if we begin to examine them really closely, we will likely see some clear resemblances to the harmful messages media the wider culture tells us about our particular group.Table 4.1 outlines just a few examples—​see if you can do the same practice around some of the “shoulds” you tell yourself. Insert your own “shoulds” here and trace them back to the dominant cultural messages about your group. There is almost always a relationship between those Table 4.1  Many of the messages we internalize about how we “should be” stem from oppressive stereotypes about the marginalized group to which we belong. Internal “Should”

Cultural Message/​Stereotype about a Marginalized Group

“I am not pretty enough.”

Women’s worth lies in their external beauty. Beauty = xyz. Women’s role is to attract a man. (Note the heterosexism of this message.) Women of color or working-​class people aren’t smart enough or don’t have a place in higher education/​professional fields.

“I should do x so men find me desirable.” “I am not smart enough to go to grad school” (if said by a woman of color or a working-​class person). “I should be extremely polite and restrained as I interrupt this racist behavior” (if said by a Black woman). “I shouldn’t be angry” (if said by an Asian American woman). “I should desire men, not women.” “I should do xyz to be a ‘proper’ man or woman.”

Black women are angry.

Asian American women don’t get angry. They are passive. (Model minority myth combined with sexism.) Queer sexuality is “abnormal.” There are only two genders and one must conform neatly to these codes of gender. This dominant message boxes in trans, genderqueer gender nonbinary and agender folk.

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  57 two things, which is what I mean when I say the “shoulds” do not come out of a vacuum. Internalized oppression messages align and reinforce dominant cultural stereotypes about our group and so are usually linked to identity categories. I mentioned earlier that the “shoulds” are not the same for everyone. All marginalized groups have a form of internalized oppression, but they take different forms and not everyone from a particular group struggles with it in the same way or to the same degree. Different racial, ethnic, class, gender, and sexual identities tend to be haunted by different sets of stereotypes which then inform different “should” messages. Even when there are similar ones, like the messages to conform to particular gender norms that I mentioned above, they land on different groups in different ways because of how they are compounded by other vectors of oppression. In other words, cisgender, heterosexual men are often boxed into particular constructions of masculinity, and that is absolutely harmful. Those codes of masculinity are compounded by racism for men of color. They are compounded by transphobia and homophobia for queer folk. We need to acknowledge those different complexities (without falling into an Oppression Olympics—​the counterproductive tendency to rank oppressions). We can, though, use the points of commonality (these “shoulds” hurt everyone, albeit in different ways) to forge both empathy and coalitions to work against them. These messages, then, do not just affect us as individuals. They also affect entire communities and are often passed down through generations (Duran and Duran 1995; Yellow Horse Brave Heart 1998). Like the wounds from the trauma of oppression which are held in the very cells of our bodies and the fabric of our communities, so too are the internalized oppression messages. In their chapter, “What Is Internalized Oppression and So What?,” E.J.R. David and Annie O. Derthick write that the harmful messages of internalized oppression may take the form of “a set of self-​defeating cognitions, attitudes and behaviors that were developed as one consistently experiences an oppressive environment” (2014, 14). These messages can become embedded in both an individual’s and a community’s very “cultural knowledge systems” to such an extent that “stimuli related to one’s own group may automatically be associated with inferiority” (David and Derthick, 2014, 14). This is another insidious component of this tool of oppression: it does not just come from the dominant group, it also comes from our families and community members. We may learn it from our parents because they, too, are struggling with unhealed internalized oppression. We may be “policed” by other members of our marginalized community who are trying to get us to conform to the “shoulds” of the dominant group because they haven’t been able to heal from the pain of those messages (and may not even know they are doing it). Or, they pressure us to conform in hopes that we will be safer, more successful, more accepted, if we do so. This process, then, fractures our community. It deepens the wounds and it isolates us. It is often so much more painful when these internalized oppression messages come from people like us—​where we may not expect it—​than it is from dominant society—​where we do expect it. The effect of this fracturing is to cut us off from one of the most powerful antidotes of internalized oppression: the strength and celebration of the richness of our community (David and Derthick 2014). Internalized oppression works by denigrating our community. We learn to

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58  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice dislike and devalue our community and often want to distance ourselves from it (Milan and Alvarez 2014). For example, when a Chicana woman refuses to learn or speak Spanish because she doesn’t want to participate in stereotypes; or when a Hmong person is ashamed of their elders and doesn’t want to attend any Hmong cultural celebrations; or when an LGBTQ+ person tells other members to “stop being so ‘flaming’ ” and does their best to conform to more heteronormative and cisnormative gender codes—​these are all manifestations of internalized oppression. When people have internalized the notion that their community is less than, they often feel ashamed of their community and who they are, so they try to distance themselves from any of the markings of their community. That drastically undermines a powerful antidote to this process: the celebration and honoring of our communities and all they have contributed to society (David and Derthick 2014). One effect of the “shoulds” is that they get us to conform to the behaviors that the dominant group wants. We begin to participate in our own oppression. This is NOT a form of blaming the victim—​it is the purpose of internalized oppression. Think about it: if we do not see graduate school as someplace where we belong, we probably won’t apply, which then creates a self-​fulfilling prophecy.We can trace the same kind of result in all the messages I just listed. If we believe and enact the “shoulds,” we align ourselves with the dominant cultural message about our group and we prove it right.That is not our fault—​it is HOW internalized oppression works. It becomes a form of self-​sabotage that marginalized groups are coerced into participating in, which is then compounded by systems of oppression that keep us down (David and Derthick 2014; Thomas, Speight, and Witherspoon 2005). Without a feminist or social justice analysis, these power dynamics often remain invisible, so then we blame ourselves. As the great Audre Lorde so poetically wrote, “The true focus of revolutionary change is never merely the oppressive situations that we seek to escape, but that piece of the oppressor which is planted deep within each of us” (2007, 123).To heal and really step into authentic wholeness, as individuals and communities, we need to weed out that internal oppressor.

PRACTICE 4.2  Exploring the Embodied Imprint of Our “Shoulds” Note: This practice can be done individually or in a group, but there needs to be some trust developed in the group before doing this practice. Always make sure it is physically accessible and that people have the option of opting out. It can also be done while seated, or be done as a visualization experience, though it is important to make sure it is embodied and not merely intellectual. Allow some time between the visualizations, as it can take some time to move out of the pain of an internalized oppression narrative. Make sure to have support resources available for people. Notice the tone of the “shoulds.” What voice do they speak in? If you were to give the voice a person, a character, a body language, what would it look like? Is it welcoming and loving? Is it harsh and shaming? How do you feel when the “shoulds” speak?

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  59 Think of a moment when internalized oppression struck. (Again, practice some self-​care and don’t go to the most raw and painful moment. Instead, choose one on which you have more perspective, maybe a 4 on a scale of 1–​10.). Move the way you do when caught in that moment. (Sway in your chair, walk around the room, or visualize and feel.) Then stop. Take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Imagine a moment when you felt really empowered—​strong and confident in who you are. Hold that sense in your heart. Now move with that sense infusing your being. Pause. Take a few deep breaths. Return to the internalized oppression felt sense. Move like you do in that moment. Pause. Take a few deep breaths. Connect to your ancestors, the people who came before you and support you. Tap into all the people who love you. Remember that you are worthy—​or, if you don’t believe it yet, do your best to breathe in all the vibrational messages of the people who do believe you are worthy—​and from THAT place, move. Now reflect: How did the two states feel differently? How did you move in each state? How did you relate to others? Do you notice yourself moving through your daily life in either of these states? Typically, the internalized oppressor shouts, demeans, and shames. We feel inadequate, berated, and unhappy when we hear it. We get smaller and cave in on ourselves, or we lash out and fight back. Either way, we disconnect from ourselves and others. THAT is a pretty good sign that it is the internalized oppression voice. It feels different in our body and our heart that does a loving, authentic voice. If we can listen to our body wisdom, it will often help us cultivate the discernment. Reflect on the observations in your own practice and add to the list in Table 4.2. Part of unlearning internalized oppression requires getting very clear on how it

Table 4.2 How we can distinguish between the voice of internalized oppression and the voice of our empowered, wise self. The “Shoulds”Voice of Internalized Oppression Our Authentic,Whole Self Shaming and demeaning. Tells us we are fundamentally flawed and that we can never do any better.

Disconnects and isolates us. We shut down and get smaller. We lash out. Pessimistic and fatalistic.

Loving and compassionate. Wise. It may point out areas where we need growth or places where we need to make amends. But it speaks in a voice of loving clarity and offers us ways to improve rather than berating us with the message that we are fundamentally flawed. Helps build interconnection. Our heart opens, even if it hurts. Always possibility.

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60  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice shows up for you.This mindful discernment will help you begin to turn down the volume of the “should” voice and turn up the volume of your empowering voice. It can help you feed the first one less and ground more fully in the second one.

PRACTICE 4.3  Playing a Different Tape* Take the “should” message you worked with earlier in this chapter. Note the tape it plays and how you feel when you hear it. Imagine your best friend was saying that about themselves. What would you say to them to remind them (1) that that message is neither accurate nor true, and (2) that they are inherently worthy? Now take that tape as your own.When you hear that voice of internalized oppression, notice it. Take a breath and center to create some distance from that voice. Practice turning down its volume and playing the new tape you just created. Chances are you won’t believe that new tape at first, and there will be time when it feels impossible to switch tapes. That is a natural part of the unlearning/​remembering process.That toxic tape has likely had years to sink its roots into you, and it won’t be unearthed easily. But like any seed, you can nurture and water the new messages in a variety of ways. The more you practice it, the stronger it will become. *Sonya Renee Taylor also talks about these messages in terms of turning up/​down the volume knobs. Her book, The Body Is Not an Apology, offers many great tools for this process—​go read it right now!

I want to underscore a few points I made above. The authentic, whole voice will be honest with us. It is not a greetings-​card-​type voice that does nothing but sing our praises, as that would not be authentic. It will tell us when we make a mistake or when we need to grow. But it will speak with kindness and offer steps or solutions we could take to remedy the situation. It is our partner, with us for the long haul, and it wants us to succeed. For instance, maybe you got a new job/​promotion. Maybe you are the only person of color or only woman in that place. Maybe others are looking at you with skepticism (“they must be an affirmative action hire”). Your “should voice” might tell you that you don’t belong there, that you aren’t qualified. You might wonder if you can do the job, and that underlying fear might haunt you as you try to do it.Your authentic voice might notice the skills you need to develop in order to effectively do this new job, but it will offer you ways of obtaining those skills and will fundamentally support you. Part of unearthing internalized oppression in our lives is learning to discern the difference. One major caveat here: mindful, embodied feminism can deeply help with this process, but I  am NOT suggesting that we can end internalized oppression by meditating or reciting affirmations. Individual solutions do not fix structural problems.

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  61 When we are judged by others through an oppressive framework, no amount of preparation or skill building will prove that oppression wrong—​because oppression is not rational. I will say more about that in a moment. We need collective change efforts to disrupt the roots of oppression and its tentacles of internalized smog. Yes and, we can also practice the discernment of mindful, embodied feminism to notice it at work in our own lives and in our communities and develop a repertoire of responses in our daily life, as we simultaneously work to change the larger systems.

Idealizing the Dominant Group The other half of this process is that, in addition to devaluing traits of our marginalized community, we begin to idealize the dominant groups’ ideals. It should be pretty evident how these two elements work together to compound one another. When internalized oppression is operating, we not only believe that we (and other members of our marginalized group) are unworthy, we also begin to believe that members of the dominant group are more worthy (David and Derthick 2014). This process can result in ethnic, group, and self-​hatred and a desire to assimilate. Assimilation means blending in to the norms, values, and codes of the dominant group. It typically requires dropping anything that makes one unique and different (especially along group lines): things like accents, traditions, foods, behaviors that might mark one as different from the norm. It is the “melting pot idea” that we will all blend into some common ideal. Except the ideal is usually constructed in the mold of the dominant group, so they don’t actually have to assimilate; only marginalized groups do. When we assimilate, we might get some temporary rewards. However, there are some major costs to the process of assimilation: we lose the rich diversity and beauty of our different communities, for one thing.We also have to give up major parts of ourselves as a member of a marginalized group in order to blend in to the norm (which is almost always constructed by the dominant group to resemble them). And here’s the thing: the belonging we get by assimilation is always conditional. It is contingent on our conforming to a bar that is always moving. It is always partial (we are always seen as somewhat of an outsider) and it can be revoked at any time. The fragility of that belonging forces us to conform more, assimilating harder, thereby doing more violence to ourselves and our communities. (I will talk more about the strategic use of dominant group norms in the next chapter.)

Healing from Internalized Oppression So what can we do to unearth internalized oppression? The first step is discerning it at work. We have to get very clear on how it shows up in us and in others. Sometimes, the actions of other people are informed by their own internalized oppression demons. When that happens, we could choose to be less reactionary and more compassionate towards them. We may still need to set some clear

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62  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice boundaries (being compassionate to others’ pain does not mean we need to just accept their harmful actions). But we can begin to see the pattern and put behaviors in context. Then we have to actively unlearn those messages and deconstruct the conditioning. Taylor calls this a “de-​indoctrinization” (2018, 59). This must be an active process because we have been trained to think and respond this way by an oppressive society. But underneath all those messages is a deep wisdom and an inherent value: we … you … are all inherently worthy, just as you are. Let that sink in. You are inherently worthy. I think the process is both an active unlearning and a deep remembering of that truth, a remembering of the wisdom and worldviews that existed before oppression and colonization (Emergent Strategy Training 2019). It is a reclamation as much as a re-​creation. I mentioned earlier that one of the most powerful antidotes of internalized oppression is a celebration of our community (David and Derthick 2014). We can learn more about all the awesome things our community has done throughout history. We can read and listen to the writing, music, and art from our community. We can dial up the volume on those messages and learn to turn down the volume of the internalized oppression voice. We can limit our exposure to dominant cultural messages, at least through the media we consume (other sources of it can be impossible to avoid) and deliberately seek out alternative media and the perspectives of marginalized cultures. If we are in a position to do so, we can help marginalized voices get published/​be heard. Reading/​listening to the voices of other marginalized groups can help us feel less alone. We can learn about others’ experiences of the toxicity of internalized oppression, learn from their journeys, and deepen our understanding about how this system works in ways that are designed to harm us. We can take strength from our connection with others on similar paths of healing.We can have conversations with trusted loved ones. Let them know how our “shoulds” show up and what they could do to support us in reframing those messages when they appear. Enlisting their help can be super useful, because sometimes, when the “should” voice is shouting and shaming, it is very difficult to get perspective. Loving, trustworthy, and fierce community members can help us with that. And we can do that for them.This interconnection can undermine the isolation in which internalized oppression festers. We can also recognize that this will likely be a lifelong process. Many people find that when they get through one layer of the “shoulds,” another one emerges. Because the barrage of harmful messages typically continues, we are still being saturated even as we try to heal. Sometimes the messages will still seep in and work their harm.That is more likely to occur when our resilience is down—​when we are tired, overworked, or exhausted and raw from particular current events targeting our community/​ies. Know that, and do your best to keep refilling the well of our resilience. (See Chapter 11 for more on that.) Be kind to ourselves when we fall prey to the “should” voice. Know that this is a process and give ourselves credit when we do it less than we used to.

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  63

When Individual Tools Are Not Enough It is critical that we all have tools and resources available to us when internalized oppression strikes so that we can lessen its harm and begin to release its toxicity. In a culture shaped by many messages that denigrate our various marginal groups, it can feel sometimes like the larger picture is out of our control. In that context, having some degree of control over our own reactions and some tools to heal internally can be necessary to help sustain resilience. Yes and. The process, like so many in this book, needs to happen both inwardly and outwardly simultaneously. Let’s go back to the idea of the Imposter Syndrome. I have heard many people express a sense of relief that there is a name for what they are struggling with and that they are not alone. It can be useful to recognize it as a form of internalized oppression and counter it as such. Part of countering it, though, requires not just sending different internal messages to ourselves (though that can be helpful on some level), but also transforming the outer conditions that render marginalized people always the outsider, always the one who isn’t “good enough.” Shivani Seth says it well in the article, “Am I an Imposter, or Am I Oppressed?” Seth writes: Racism’s ability to cause me harm in my environment is extensive and cannot be solved by simply having more confidence in myself. My confidence in myself does not matter if I  am seen as incompetent or lesser than due to stereotypes … If I’m pushed into stereotypes of who I  can be because of my race, sex, gender or other identities, then working harder to prove myself won’t cut it. (Seth 2017) Seth adds a critical component to the Imposter Syndrome conversation that is often not considered in self-​help or mindfulness solutions to the issue. When others—​those in the dominant culture, those in power—​see you as an outsider and create the structural conditions to marginalize you over and over and over again, no amount of changing one’s attitude is going to “fix” it. In fact, in that context, strong self-​confidence can backfire, enhancing the stereotypes and creating a no-​win situation for the person. Part of combating the harm of this system is seeing it at work. It can be truly unsettling and make us question our very sense of reality to be in the midst of all these demoralizing systems and be told it is our fault and within our power to change. In fact, there’s a word for that: gaslighting.

Recognizing Gaslighting Gaslighting is what happens when the person/​people in power make you question your own sense of reality. They say things like “You’re overreacting”; “Don’t be so sensitive”; “It wasn’t that bad”; “That’s not how it happened.” It’s a very common practice in abusive situations. The abuser undermines the abused person’s sense

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64  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice of reality, invalidates their experience by taking control of the narrative, blames the person (whatever happened is their fault), minimizes and denies. Gaslighting compounds the abuse, because now the abused person questions their own perspective, voice, or experience. Not only are they robbed of power in the situation, they are now also robbed of their experience. It’s no accident that gaslighting is a common tool in oppression and internalized oppression, because those are abusive situations. It can feel like the rug is pulled out from under you because you KNOW something happened and you KNOW something is wrong, but you are told that “no, it didn’t happen that way” or “no, it’s not wrong” (never mind that those two statements contradict one another—​ that’s another dimension of pulling the rug out from under you.). You are told if you just did “x” you would succeed, but the “x” keeps changing. You do “x” and you still don’t succeed because it’s not actually about you. This process can keep  you  spinning your wheels, feeling like you are loosing your bearings … which is what the system wants, because as long as you are trying to find your bearings, you can’t be focused on dismantling the system. In the article I referenced above, Seth refers to Alexis Hancock, who wrote the article, “How the Rhetoric of Imposter Syndrome Is Used to Gaslight Women in Tech.” Hancock writes, For me, the myth of meritocracy [the myth that people succeed based on talent and skill], and the rhetoric of imposter syndrome, became a deflection for the environmental issues going on around me. I thought it was my job to fix my “imposter syndrome,” but my environment was what triggered that state of mind: Constant, blatantly paternal and dismissive responses to my technical suggestions. Stress from microaggressions.1 Putting in more and more work and hours as the months passed … but that work never translated to a higher status or professional elevation. (Hancock 2016) She goes on to speak about her intersectional identity as a Black woman in tech, It’s particularly important to talk about what the rhetoric of imposter syndrome means for Black women in tech. Being a “strong Black woman” is an easy role to fall into because that’s when we are seen as most useful … We are told to view all the negative events in our path as a source of “strength,” when they’re actually taking our strength away … Being a smart Black woman and having to simply prove you have basic competence is not growth; it’s living in a suspended state. It’s having to explain in detail your technical training rather than expanding on your expertise. It’s virtually no one simply believing me the way they do my non-​Black or non-​woman counterparts. It feels like having to repeatedly convince the world to let me get to that first stair, much less get on the staircase. No amount of believing in myself can fix that. (Hancock 2016) So while it is critical to learn to discern this toxic voice within us, do what we can to turn down its volume and amplify the volume of our more authentic, wise

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  65 voice, it is not enough to remain at the level of the individual.That will never fully stop internalized oppression, because it is reinforced daily by both toxic messages and the structural conditions that marginalize people (as Seth and Hancock say so well). In addition to doing these practices, we need to simultaneously work to change the larger conditions that produce those messages. Working toward positive change, whether it is volunteering, participating in social movements, becoming lawmakers, writing progressive articles, mentoring youth, or forming local support groups amongst friends, can combat feelings of powerlessness and create ripples of change. Remember that working toward change has to happen on both large-​scale and local levels (see the Chapter 11), so no effort is unimportant.

Connecting to Heal Connection can offer another powerful antidote to internalized oppression. Audre Lorde writes that In order to be whole, we must recognize the despair oppression plants within each of us … [a]‌nd we must fight that inserted piece of self-​destruction that lives and flourishes like a poison inside of us, unexamined until it makes us turn on ourselves in each other … [W]e can lessen its potency by the knowledge of our real connectedness, arcing across our differences. (2007, 123) First, we need to discern that this toxicity is an imposed byproduct of an oppressive system; then, we need to distinguish between our authentic, whole voice and that of the oppressor within. (Know that that will be a lifelong process. Have some compassion for the days when we don’t do it so well.) Once we have those steps, another antidote is to cultivate connection and interconnection with each other across our differences. When we start to recognize how far-​reaching the pollution of internalized oppression is, we might feel deep grief and anger at how much damage it has done. Sit with that for a moment. In that pain lies the opportunity for connection. We do not experience internalized oppression in the same way or to the same degree; it is deeply important not to collapse differences into sameness. But we can cultivate empathy for one another (Brown 2012). If we have experienced the wounds of internalized oppression, we know how deeply harmful it can be. We don’t have to have the exact same experience as someone else to feel with them and for each other. How much potential has internalized oppression stifled? How many empowering senses of self has it negated? Let’s mourn that for a moment. And in that mourning, we can connect with one another. Through a compassionate connection that forges commonality while honoring difference, we can weave an interconnection that can begin to counter the isolation that internalized oppression both produces and requires. As we connect and forge support systems that enable interdependence, we can begin to break

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66  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice down the walls of internalized oppression.The more we strengthen our collective, empowering voices, the more that force will purify the toxins. The previous chapter talked about the trauma of oppression that is often woven deeply throughout our communities. As we heal that, we can also heal from the wounds of internalized oppression.We cannot simply start shouting new, empowering messages. The “fake it till you make it” strategy will only take us so far.We need to actually heal, individually and collectively.The vulnerability of this process requires some degree of safety—​it is not always a healthy idea to bare our rawness in unsafe spaces. So take a minute to explore your web of connection.

PRACTICE 4.4 Web of Community2 Draw a web of your current communities. Start with your inner circle—​ those you trust the most. Then expand the web, tracing out your various communities. Reflect on who you feel most connected with and about what. We likely have some people we trust for some conversations and others we trust for different conversations. Note that on your web in whatever way it makes sense for you. Remember that, as Brené Brown notes, not everyone deserves to hear your story (2015). Now look at the journal entry you made about your “shoulds.” Who on your web would be good support networks for unlearning which of your “shoulds”? Set up a date with some of those people to have some conversations about supporting you as you work to unlearn the “shoulds.” Talk about how you can support them (because community relationships need to be reciprocal). Where would it be helpful for you to devote energy to strengthening relationships? Webs can be broken where they are weak. Be intentional about where you devote your community-​building efforts.

By forging radical connection with one another, we can strengthen bonds of community that can both help us heal (individually and collectively) from the wounds of oppression and create powerful forces to create the large-​scale changes we need to happen to stop the cycle of oppression that produces these toxic messages. This process happens through a dynamic pulsation of inward and outward work.The inward work involves creating what Sonya Renee Taylor calls a “radical self-​love world,” in which all beings live free from systems of oppression. This is not a superficial, individualistic self-​love, but rather a fundamental, radical one that uproots and dismantles the very roots of these toxic messages (and their power dynamics) in ourselves, our communities, and our societies. It can help us cultivate a radical self-​love for ourselves and those around us. As she notes, “Radical self-​ love invites us to love our bodies in a way that transforms how we understand and accept the bodies of others” (Taylor 2018, 9). After all, these harmful messages do not just shape how we relate to ourselves, they also shape how we relate to those around us.

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  67 The toxic lenses through which we judge ourselves also, very likely, inform our judgments of others. Both judgment and love are contagious—​they feed the climate around us. As Adrienne Maree Brown notes, “what we pay attention to grows” (2017, 46). So if we are constantly judging ourselves and others, that climate will fester. If we learn to love ourselves, that will also shape how we connect with others and will exude an environment that deeply recognizes and values difference (Taylor 2018, 22). Taylor underscores this point when she notes that, Radical self love does not call on us to be less of ourselves … it summons us to be our most expansive selves, knowing that the more unflinchingly powerful we allow ourselves to be, the more unflinchingly powerful others feel capable of being. (2018, 97) What would it feel like for you to be your most expansive self? How would the world be different if everyone could access and embody their full expansive selves one hundred percent of the time? Let’s make that part of our vision for a more just world.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Priyanka grew up being told what proper Indian girls do and don’t do. She knows how to treat her elders with respect and how to honor her ancestors. She values this now, but for years, she resented the expectations layered on her. She watched her brothers do things that she was never allowed to do. She could play the good girl well, but she increasingly resented the ways that role stifled what she really wanted to say or do. It took her many years to even be able to hear her inner voice over all the messages about how she “should be.” It started as a deep longing and resentment, but when she followed that thread down into her inner self, she realized that underneath it all was her creative, passionate voice … she had something to say. But the messages she had learned about how she “should” be were so loud that she had to work to hear her own, then find the courage to speak it. Once she finally did begin to speak it, the “shoulds” came not just from within her but also from outside of her. Her family chastised her for not fulfilling her role. Her white friends resisted in subtle and not-​so-​subtle backlash as she “rocked the boat.” In some ways, it would have been easier to just fall back into what was expected of her. But the cost of that to her inner self was too high. So she kept speaking and kept trying to discern what conditioning she could let go of because it wasn’t actually hers. When she began turning down the volume of that internalized tape, she found she had more room—​and more energy—​to speak her truth. She began to realize that speaking her truth was critical to her own healing and to that of her community. She began to see how many of the people in her community were also struggling with internalized oppression—​messages and behaviors they had learned to survive

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68  Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice an oppressive culture but which were stifling them. She had compassion for that and would fiercely protect her culture from critique from outsiders. But she also challenged those messages, especially for her younger siblings. Some days are easier that others. Some days the process of (re)claiming her voice is liberating. Other days it feels frightening and exhausting. But she is committed to honoring herself and her community, and that means untangling and rejecting the learned messages of dominant culture and making room for the liberatory messages of her own.

Notes 1 Microaggressions are the daily acts of oppression. The term “micro” is used to differentiate the daily forms of oppression from the larger, “macro” acts such as hate crimes (Sue 2010). But it is also deceptive language, because microaggressions do not feel minor.The pain of them accumulates, so I have started calling them “cumulative aggressions.” 2 This practice is similar to podmapping, which is a community-​based practice used by Mia Mingus, “Pods and Pod-​Mapping Worksheet.” June 2016. Accessed April 15, 2020. https://​batjc.wordpress.com/​pods-​and-​pod-​mapping-​worksheet/​.

References Abrams, Abigail.“Yes, Imposter Syndrome Is Real: Here’s How to Deal with It.” Time. June 28, 2018. Accessed September 5, 2019. https://​time.com/​5312483/​how-​to-​deal-​with-​ impostor-​syndrome/​. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Brown, Brené. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. New York: Gotham Books, 2012. Brown, Brené. “The Safe Way to Share Your Shame Story.” Huff Post. March 11, 2015. Accessed September 5, 2019. www.huffpost.com/​entry/​brene-​brown-​shame_​n_​ 4282679. Clance, Pauline Rose and Suzanne Imes. “The Imposter Phenomena in High Achieving Women: Dynamics and Therapeutic Intervention.” Psychotherapy Theory, Research, and Practice 15, no. 3 (Fall 1978): 241–​247. Accessed September 5, 2019. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1037/​h0086006. David, E.J.R. and Annie O. Derthick. “What Is Internalized Oppression, and So What?” In Internalized Oppression: The Psychology of Marginalized Groups, edited by E.J.R. David, 1–​30. New York: Springer, 2014. David, E.J.R., ed. Internalized Oppression: The Psychology of Marginalized Groups. New York: Springer, 2014. DeGruy, Joy. Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing. Portland, OR: Joy DeGruy Publications, 2005. Duran, Eduardo and Bonnie Duran. Native American Post-​Colonial Psychology. Albany, NY: State University of New York, 1995. Emergent Strategy Training. Minneapolis, MN. May 2019. Hancock, Alexis. “How the Rhetoric of Imposter Syndrome Gaslights Women in Tech.” Model View Culture 36, April 25, 2016. Accessed July 20, 2017. https://​modelviewculture. com/​pieces/​how-​the-​rhetoric-​of-​imposter-​syndrome-​is-​used-​to-​gaslight-​women-​in-​ tech.

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Unlearning Our Toxic Inner Voice  69 Hardy, Kenneth V. “Healing the Hidden Wounds of Racial Trauma.” Reclaiming Children and Youth 22, no. 1 (Spring 2013): 24–​28. Accessed December 10, 2019. https://​static1. squarespace.com/​static/​545cdfcce4b0a64725b9f65a/​t/​54da3451e4b0ac9bd1d1cd30/​ 1423586385564/​Healing.pdf. Langford, Joe and Pauline Rose Clance. “The Imposter Phenomena: Recent Research Findings Regarding Dynamics, Personality, and Family Patterns and Their Implications for Treatment.” Psychotherapy 3, no. 3 (Fall 1993): 495–​501. Accessed September 5, 2019. https://​doi.org/​10.1037/​0033-​3204.30.3.495. Lorde, Audre.“Age, Race, Class, and Sex:Women Redefining Difference.” In Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, 114–​123. Berkeley: Crossing Press, 2007. Milan, James B. and Alvin N. Alvarez. “Asian Americans and Internalized Oppression: Do We Deserve This?” In Internalized Oppression: The Psychology of Marginalized Groups, edited by E.J.R. David, 163–​190. New York: Springer, 2014. Richards, Carl. “Learning to Deal with the Imposter Syndrome.” The New  York Times. October 26, 2015. Accessed September 5, 2019. www.nytimes.com/​2015/​10/​26/​your-​ money/​learning-​to-​deal-​with-​the-​impostor-​syndrome.html. Seth, Shivani. “Am I  an Imposter, or Am I  Oppressed?” Rest for Resistance. April 7, 2017. Accessed December 14, 2019. www.restforresistance.com/​zine/​imposter​syndrome-​or-​oppression. Sue, D.W., ed. Microaggressions and Marginality: Manifestations, Dynamics, and Impact. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, 2010. Tatum, Beverly. “Defining Racism: Can We Talk?” In Women Images and Realities: A Multicultural Anthology. 4th ed., edited by Suzanne Kelly, Gowri Parameswaran, and Nancy Schniedewind. 386–​391. New York: McGraw Hill, 2008. Taylor, Sonya Renee. The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-​Love. Oakland, CA: Berrett-​Koehler, 2018. Thomas, Anita J., Susette L. Speight and Karen M. Witherspoon. “Internalized Oppression among Black Women.” In The Psychology of Prejudice and Discrimination, Volume 3: Bias Based on Gender and Sexual Orientation, edited by J.L. Chin, 113–​132. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2005. Yellow Horse Brave Heart, Maria. “The Return to the Sacred Path: Healing the Historical Trauma and Historical Unresolved Grief Response among the Lakota.” Smith College Studies in Social Work 68, no. 3 (1998): 287–​305.

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5  Navigating the In-​Between

Navigating the In-​Between In the last chapter, I talked about the pressure on marginalized groups to assimilate to dominant cultural norms. I want to complicate that conversation a bit by recognizing that many of us move between multiple cultural norms. Often, that happens because of our complex identities, including the combination of our racial, ethnic, gender, class, national, dis/ability, sexual, immigration status, and so on. Some of us feel caught in the power dynamics between competing cultural norms. We1 may receive contradictory messages about our group identity from within a marginalized community than we receive from a dominant culture. We may find some safety or respite from within our cultural group, though that space can be complicated, too. Say, for instance, that you are a college student or employee whose family are refugees from Somalia who have resettled in an area where there is a large community of Somali refugees. But the city you are in is still predominantly white and Christian, and there is escalating Islamophobic backlash.You are also worried about family back home in Somalia. It is your role to take care of the family, so you miss a great deal of class/​work that begins to count against your grade/​work performance in the Western educational/​corporate system. You are expected to behave in one way on campus/​at work, where you often feel you have to downplay parts of your identity, but when you get home, the codes of expectation and behavior within your family create different norms. You are continually adapting your behavior to shifting cultural expectations between campus/​work and home. Or, another example: in your Native community, there are particular ways of showing respect and leadership, especially to elders. There are things you do and things you do not do. Those codes reflect very different values than the ones typically considered “good leadership” in predominantly white or non-​Native spaces. Though they are a part of who you are, you get penalized for practicing this form of leadership—​sometimes punished outright; sometimes passed over, erased, and seen as “not a good leader.” And yet, you see how the forms of leadership that are valued in many dominant spaces actually run counter to your Native values and worldviews. Or, you search out LGBTQ+ spaces as much as possible because sometimes you just need a sense of safety.You need to not have to explain or defend yourself.

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Navigating the In-Between  71 You want to feel a sense of belonging, like you can just be who you are. In many other spaces, you never know what you will find so you steel yourself. Will people misgender you (again)? Will you have to explain (again) what pronoun you use and how you identify? Will you be targeted by discrimination, even threats, when you try to use the bathroom? The shield of self-​protection you have to weave around yourself is exhausting (and not always enough to protect), which is one reason why you have such a need to let your guard down, even a little, in queer-​friendly spaces. Unfortunately, even these spaces are not always safe—​some LGBTQ+ folk really do need to learn more about the vast spectrum of queer identities; this delicate sense of belonging gets easily ruptured when harm happens in these spaces, too. Living in the “in-​between” comes from holding one or more marginalized identities that are often targeted by daily macro/​micro/​cumulative aggressions. In spaces where the marginalized identity is not the norm, dominant cultural codes require different behaviors, language, and practices. It is exhausting. Chicana feminist Gloria Anzaldúa describes it well: Like others having or living in more than one culture, we get multiple, often opposing messages.The coming together of two, self-​consistent but habitually incomparable frames of reference causes un choque, a cultural collision. (1999, 100) Often, we search out respites where we can let our guard down a little, spaces where we can just be and know that the people around us will understand without our having to translate or explain. Those saf(er) spaces are necessary for our survival (more on this in a bit).

Code Switching People who hold one or more marginalized identities typically belong to multiple communities. You may have your desi family, or your network of people living with dis/​abilities, or your tribal community.You may move between communities with different cultural codes of behaviors or expectations. In that context, people typically learn how to code switch, which happens when they consciously or unconsciously shift their behaviors and language to fit the context (Demby 2013; Thompson 2013;Young 2009). Most people do this in some way: we behave differently with our friends than with our parents than with our boss. For marginalized groups, though, code switching is much more loaded. They may have to prevent themselves from switching between languages (if they are bilingual) or make sure they translate into the dominant language; they may dress differently or try to shield parts of themselves. When marginalized groups code switch, it is typically a form of survival and protection, and, at times, a form of internalized oppression. They know the expectations of the prevalent cultural norms and do their best to conform to them when in those spaces, in order to fit in, succeed, and to try to limit the micro/​cumulative aggressions that might be directed at them (Demby 2013; Thompson 2013; Young 2009). When they are in spaces of mostly their

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72  Navigating the In-Between marginalized community, they can let down that guard a bit and let out hidden parts of themselves. There are typically consequences if people don’t “properly” code switch. When marginalized groups don’t conform to dominant cultural norms, there is often punishment or backlash. They are denied success, made to feel like they don’t belong, or they are targeted by micro/​cumulative aggressions. The thing about code switching is that (1) marginalized groups are expected to do the code switching, rather than dominant groups transforming to make space for a variety of codes; and (2) some codes are given much more value in the dominant system than others. The kind of code switching required in oppressive systems places disproportionate burden on marginalized groups. Marginalized groups are supposed to drop or hide elements of themselves and their group identity and instead conform to dominant culture norms. There may be some “rewards” granted to those who successfully codes switch: they get some degree of belonging, may have some success—​financial, career, relationship—​and are often seen by dominant groups as more “acceptable” than marginalized groups who refuse to code switch. But it also comes with a high cost, not the least of which is the emotional labor required to do so (Lyiscott 2014; Lewis 2018; Arthur 2017). One has to assess a situation, read the expectations and norms, learn how to push aside whatever part of oneself is not accepted, and instead perform according to the current expectations. People who code switch have to be adept at both the codes within their marginalized communities and the codes within dominant ones, know which ones are acceptable where, and fluidly move between them. For many, this becomes almost second nature. This ability is a gift, but it also comes at a cost. It requires a great deal of energy, because for many people, they have to fragment their identity.They may feel like they are not living with integrity with themselves because one code may deride another code or because they feel like they have to separate themselves from a part of who they are in order to be accepted in some places. Moreover, the “belonging” can always be revoked, especially if they one day decide to show up as their full selves. That can result in always feeling at risk and unsafe. When someone moves between multiple communities, she might also begin to wonder where she really belongs, particularly if it feels rare that she can really bring her whole self. For instance, if she comes from a working-​class environment and is the first member in her family to go to college or graduate school, she may arrive on campus and feel out of place. It may seem like other college students already “know the game.” She may struggle with finances and not be able to get books until well into the semester, which puts her behind. She may not be able to go out with her friends because she can’t afford it and has to work anyway. Eventually, she may become familiar with the codes of campus life and perform many of them well, so she feels less like an outsider. But then she goes home, and people see her as different now. She brings home new ideas, new experiences, a different language, and her family might feel she thinks she is better than they are (even if it isn’t true). She may have less to talk about with her high school friends who didn’t go away to college. And eventually, it might feel like she doesn’t really fit in at home, either. Some students describe performing one set of codes on

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Navigating the In-Between  73 campus, dialing down certain aspects of their lives. Then when they go home, they have to reverse the process. I will talk about the strengths of that ability in a moment. But it can also take a toll, particularly if we feel like we never fully fit in anywhere.

PRACTICE 5.1  How Do We Show Up in Our Communities? Draw a set of circles—​one circle for each different community to which you belong. If there is overlap in some of them, draw that in overlapping circles. Write the name of each community in each different circle.You might think of identity communities (queer, Hmong, for example), religious or spiritual communities (Muslim, Buddhist, for example), as well as other areas of life (sports teams, family, work, and so on). Now, in each circle, describe some of the expectations or cultural norms that characterize each community, What parts of yourself do you amplify in each community? What parts feel erased or targeted? Do you feel pressure to dial down parts of yourself in each community? Represent that in each circle. Now reflect on all that you have represented. Close your eyes, if it feels comfortable to do so. If not, simply soften your gaze and turn inward. What insights and feelings arise, after thinking explicitly about your process of code switching? What are some of the costs of this code switching, for you? What are some of the gifts/​skills you have developed in the process of this code switching?

Give Ourselves Some Credit Though we can, at times, feel fragmented and caught between codes, this space also offers possibility. Anzaldúa talks about La rajadura (the slash between us and them, nos/​otras) in a way that might be useful here. She writes, La rajadura gives us a third point of view, a perspective from the cracks and a way to reconfigure ourselves as subjects outside binary oppositions, outside existing dominant relations … An identity born of negotiating the cracks between worlds, nos/​otras accommodates contradictory identities and social positions, creating a hybrid consciousness that transcends the us versus them mentality of irreconcilable positions, blurring the boundary between us and others. (Anzaldúa 2015, 79) When someone navigates multiple codes and practices as she moves between communities, she also has unique insights. Her place in each community offers her a particular perspective that she can bring to bear on another community. People who remain neatly within one perspective have less access to that perspective.

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74  Navigating the In-Between We should not romanticize this process: it can be painful and exhausting. One possible cost comes from being put in the position of always having to be the bridge between. As the powerful collection of women of color writings, This Bridge Called My Back describes, there is a spiritual, embodied exhaustion and pain that can come from always having to play that role (Moraga and Anzaldúa 2015). In this context of code switching between multiple communities, the “in-​ between” space can feel disorienting. Yes, and that liminal spaces also offer transformative possibilities. Anzaldúa, who herself held complex identities, called this space nepantla.2 She writes: Nepantla is the place where my cultural and personal codes clash, where I come up against the world’s dictates … Nepantla is the point of contact y el lugar between worlds—​between imagination and physical existence, between ordinary and non ordinary (spirit) realities … Nepantlas are places of constant tension, where the missing or absent pieces can be summoned back, where transformation and healing may be possible, where wholeness is just out of reach but seems attainable. (Anzaldúa 2015, 2) Anzaldúa describes this space as a place of tension and dissonance—​she does not make it an easy “fix-​all.” But in that friction between cultural codes lies the possibility for wisdom. There’s a rich perspective there because the person with complex identities understands multiple cultural codes and so has the ability to see codes through the lens of a different cultural code. When we look at something through different lenses, we open new insights. In the movement and space between, we can imagine new possibilities. Instead of taking particular cultural norms as “Truth” with a capital “T,” we can see them as constructed and understand the effects of those constructs (particularly if we are considered outsiders). As AnaLouise Keating describes it, nepantleras, “use these transformed perspectives to invent holistic, relational theories and tactics that enable them to reconceive or in other ways transform the various worlds in which they exist” (Anzaldúa 2015, 245). In other words, there is wisdom in the in-​between that offers transformative paths toward a more just world. Anzaldúa writes, We need nepantleras whose strength lies in our ability to mediate and move between identities and positions … To become nepantleras, we must choose to occupy intermediary spaces between worlds, choose to move between worlds like the ancient chamanas who choose to build bridges between worlds, choose to speak from the cracks between the worlds, from las rendijas (rents). We must choose to see through the holes in reality, choose to perceive something from multiple angles. The act of seeing holes in our cultural conditioning can help us separate out from over identifying with personal and cultural identities transmitted by both our own groups and the dominant culture, to shed their toxic values and ways of life. It takes energy and courage, to name

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Navigating the In-Between  75 ourselves and grow beyond cultural and self-​imposed boundaries. As agents of awakening, nepantleras remind us of each other’s search for wholeness. (Anzaldúa 2015, 93) I love her emphasis on wholeness. Though it does not always feel like a “choice” to live in-​between multiple communities, people who do can claim more power when they engage in that process of awakening and step into the gifts they have developed by doing so. She urges us to hold our pain with compassion, begin to heal it, and to recognize the insights we gain from our perspectives. We can learn to shed the harmful elements of both our marginalized and the dominant cultures, forging instead a path toward wholeness. The trick is to find some way to be in integrity with the whole of ourselves, even if the waters around us are not. Part of doing so includes recognizing the versatility and strength involved in code switching. Keeping in mind all I  just said about the costs of the practice, it is simultaneously true that those who code switch are much more adept at reading and adapting to context than those who do not. They are fluent in multiple codes and usually have a sophisticated knowledge of when and how to use them. That provides a nuance and versatility that the dominant group does not have. They can read situations and have a richer toolset of behaviors and language on which to draw. They also participate and understand multiple communities, which dominant groups may not. Because they are marginalized, they also see where spaces and social institutions are unwelcoming or limiting. Feminist critical race scholar Patricia Hill Collins calls this the “outsider within” (1986). As members of marginalized groups gain entry and success in social institutions (like the legal system, the educational system, the government), they also see how those institutions are limited by their cultural norms. Because marginalized groups do not fully fit into those spaces, they have insights into the systems and unique perspectives that the dominant group doesn’t have to have. It does a disservice to marginalized groups to present them/​ us as exclusively victims. While oppression has harmed us, we (in all the rich diversity of marginalized groups), have also cultivated a vast set of survival skills and resiliency that we should not undervalue. For instance, as long as those of us who code switch can find some way to live in integrity with ourselves and remain whole, we can learn to use the dominant norms strategically. We can adopt the norms of a particular space and value our ability to fluently move between them. We can value the multiple communities of which we are a part. We can offer the insights we gain from code switching between communities. Again, the “benefits” of such practices are greatly undermined when we are emotionally drained or denied belonging in various communities. When we can exist in our wholeness, we access deep wisdom that is not available to our fragmented selves. We can transform the limiting expectations that demand certain codes of behaviors and devalue others. When we heal from the trauma of oppression—​as individuals and as communities—​we can better move towards liberatory ways of being that allow everyone to exist in their wholeness rather than require some people to split themselves off from their full humanity.

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Critique vs. Protection When I teach GWS students, one common theme I hear is the tension they feel between wanting to protect their communities that are targeted by oppression while also feeling frustrated with how even marginalized communities may uphold certain stereotypes. For instance, they might want to challenge the homophobia or sexism in their families, but also fiercely protect them from being stereotyped and misunderstood by dominant culture. It makes total sense, and those of us who feel it are not alone (though we may feel like we are). It is OK to honor and love our marginalized community while still seeing its limitations. In fact, I  would argue that’s a more honest and authentic love than uncritically adoring it. Too often, marginalized individuals are pressured to “close rank” and not “air the dirty laundry” of their community to outsiders for fear of intensifying the oppression. But closing rank does not actually serve anyone. Anzaldúa says it well when she writes, It’s vital that we maintain our heritages’ useful, nurturing aspects but release the unproductive and harmful components. When an individual realizes that she doesn’t fit into a particular collective-​conditioned identity and when the tribe cannot contain all that she is, she must jettison the restrictive cultural components and forge new identities. (Anzaldúa 1999, 75) We can challenge our communities to be more inclusive, to unlearn the harmful conditioning (which, more often than not, is itself the result of oppression such as colonization). We can encourage it to expand. And we can do that without throwing our community under the bus. We can still protect it and defend it from dominant cultural misrepresentation. As people who deeply love and honor our communities, we hold a powerful place from which to help it transform. Unfortunately, there is often a cost to being the person who holds our marginalized community accountable. We can be seen as an outsider, ostracized, or even considered a “sell-​out.” Depending on our identity, we may be accused of “acting white” or “thinking we are better than” or “taking on the colonizer’s perspective.” This backlash may rob us of a much needed sense of belonging and a respite from larger cultural oppression. Many of us from marginalized groups need a place where we can let our guard down, a place where we can feel safer and just be. Often, our marginalized communities serve as those places. So when we are accused of being an outsider, when we are ostracized for challenging our communities to live up to their best selves, we are denied that sanctuary.

A Word about “Safe Spaces” and “Women-​Only Spaces” The call for safe space is prolific these days, and it is important that we create spaces that are as safe as possible. But given complex power dynamics, I deeply question whether safe spaces exist. I think we need to do everything we possibly

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Navigating the In-Between  77 can to build trust and understanding that can make spaces safer. But spaces can turn unsafe in a split section because of the complex identities that so many of us inhabit. For instance, we may be in a “safe” LGBTQ+ space, and people in that space might understand homophobia. But that doesn’t mean they fully understand all the other systems of oppression, and often racism or anti-​Semitism or some other “ism” will erupt. At that point, any LGBTQ+ folks of color or who are Jewish will likely begin to feel unsafe—​unless they try to fragment themselves and focus only on the queer aspect of their identity. As I  hope I  have already made clear, this compartmentalizing our identity is neither desirable nor entirely possible. First, those other components of their identity inflect their experience of their queer identities (a bisexual person who is chronically ill has a different experience of being bisexual than someone who is not). Secondly, being forced to fragment ourselves is a weapon of the oppressive system—​even when it comes from our marginalized community. In fact, it will likely feel even more harmful when it comes from our community because we tend to let our guard down there, let ourselves be more vulnerable, and assume/​hope we can be safe.When betrayals come from people we thought we could trust, it hurts more. We may erect even more impermeable walls around our hearts. Moreover, it’s not just “other” forms of oppression that may be enacted in situations such as these. The queer community, like all marginalized communities, is complex, and not every “member” is fully informed about all the issues that impact that community. It is not uncommon for bisexual folk, transfolk, gender nonbinary folk, or genderqueer folk to experience marginalization and stereotyping from within the LGBTQ+ community—​from members who have not done their own work in unlearning the conditioning of the larger community. So, seemingly safe spaces can turn unsafe in a second. I am not saying we shouldn’t have those spaces or do everything we can to try to create them. I  am saying that we should understand that they are complex and fragile. I tend to use language such as “saf(er)” spaces or brave spaces to indicate that (Ali 2017; Arao and Clemens 2013). This is a good place to talk for a bit about affinity spaces, such as women-​ only spaces, people of color spaces, LGBTQ+/​ Queer spaces. These kinds of community-​specific spaces can be very important for the well being of marginalized groups. (Yes, I know what I just said in previous paragraphs—​stay with me here.) Marginalized groups face a constant barrage of micro/​cumulative and macro aggressions in their lives. It is often critical for their well being to have some spaces where they can let their guard down, talk openly about their woundedness, have fun, and build a beloved community. In those spaces, the hope is, they don’t have to explain themselves, translate, or protect themselves, at least not as much. These spaces are deeply powerful places to heal and flourish. Yes, and. They can also be limiting. First, because of what I said earlier in this chapter about complex identities. Secondly, because these spaces often implicitly or explicitly set boundaries about who is and is not welcome, and those boundaries can be exclusionary. Let’s talk about “women-​only spaces.” There are times and places when women-​only spaces can be both necessary and healing, such as

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78  Navigating the In-Between for survivors of sexual assault or domestic abuse. In support groups such as those, having cisgender men in those spaces can feel very threatening to the survivors and be counter productive. (Men can also be sexually assaulted and experience domestic abuse, and I would argue that their experiences of those traumas—​partly because of codes of masculinity—​would make it far more effective for them to have their own support groups.) So, there are reasons why those kinds of groups can be very important. Yes, and from a queer perspective, I am also very skeptical of the over-​use of women-​only spaces. Who gets to decide who counts as a woman? Many women-​ only spaces exclude trans and gender nonbinary individuals, for instance, which is problematic (Wilchins 1997; Klie 2018). In those cases, instead of being celebratory, those spaces become exclusionary, partly because they assume an essentialist definition of women.3 When “women-​only” spaces use an essentialist perspective of gender, then they assume that certain people are “naturally” women and those are the people who are welcome in those spaces. That excludes many people. As someone who is interested in justice, that isn’t acceptable to me, even—​or especially—​in the name of trying to create empowering spaces. My point here is not the same as saying the dominant group should have access to the spaces (the equivalent of reverse racism arguments). Dominant groups have access to a whole bunch of spaces that were made with their values and best interests in mind. They are not actually lacking for spaces where they can be understood, safe, let their guard down, and build community. Marginalized groups are lacking in those spaces and, because they face oppression daily, have even greater need for them. I am saying that those spaces should not be used to exclude marginalized people by policing who can belong to a particular group. One way to address this issue is to start using language like “women-​identified women,” so that if a person self-​identifies as belonging to that group, then they are welcome in the space. That lets people define themselves instead of policing who counts as a woman.There are other ways of being inclusive as well.The point here is not that these spaces are not valuable and important, but that they need to be created with more nuance and attention to inclusivity and not reproducing modes of exclusion.

Reclaiming Wholeness In her TEDSalon NY talk, Jamila Lyiscott called herself a “trilingual orator” (2017). I love that, because it recognizes the strength and beauty in her fluency in multiple languages, notices the power dynamics between them (because of colonization and racism), but also refuses to rank them in a way that devalues part of herself. It’s that kind of move that can allow us to find some wholeness in the various codes we perform, turning the bridge we create between communities from merely taxing to the possibility for wisdom and transformation. Of course, dominant power dynamics that value some codes more than others need to change simultaneously. But I want to focus for a moment on the idea of living in integrity with our whole being.

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PRACTICE 5.2  Cultivating Wholeness Journal and Reflection What does it mean for you to live with integrity? Where are the places in your life where you feel out of balance, fragmented? How does that show up in your body, your heart, your relations with self and other, your spirit? What does it feel like to be whole? Where do you feel it? If you have never felt it, imagine what you would need to feel it? What are the conditions that would let you live fully into integrity? How would you relate to yourself and others if you lived fully in integrity? Invitation What is one practice you can do daily to help cultivate that wholeness? Who could you include in an inner circle to provide support as you do this work of living into wholeness?

In order to live into wholeness, we need to bring together parts of ourselves that are too often fragmented and even wounded. This process may include parts of ourselves we do not like or have been taught to disparage or fear—​both in our individual selves but also in our collective beings. Practices that enable that healing and integration can be really powerful, because this work cannot simply happen on the level of the cognitive or intellect. As we do that healing, we begin to build a web of interconnection. Anzaldúa writes that, We are all strands of energy connected to each other in the web of existence. Our thoughts, feelings, experiences affect others via this energy web. Our pervasive, excessive sense of woundedness compels us to erect barriers that create knots on the web and block communication.When conflict (like a rock through into the web) disrupts a sense of connectedness, las nepantleras call on the “connectionist” or web-​making faculty, one of less structured thoughts, less rigid characterizations, and thinner boundaries that allow us to picture—​ via dreaming and artistic creativity—​similarities instead of divisions. (Anzaldúa 2015, 83) We can forge webs of interconnection that pulse dynamically, shift as needed, and grow as we grow. I want to emphasize that Anzaldúa is not calling for sameness here. She references similarities, which we can think of as points of commonality, but not sameness. The latter too often demands assimilation: that those of us marked as “different” are pressured to drop those markers in order to blend into the “norm.” I have already made the point about that pressure as a form of oppression. Points of commonality, on the other hand, let us connect through similarity and across

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80  Navigating the In-Between differences in ways that allow for both in order to forge transformative, more liberatory relations with one another. Manuel describes something similar when she writes that “Our sameness stems from the fact that we share the same life-​ source as a flower or a bee. But we are nevertheless inherently different in form” (2015, 40). In order to live in our wholeness, both individually and collectively, we need to honor this embodied difference while also honoring our common, deep humanity and life force. In fact, I would argue we can’t have the latter without the former. We can’t truly honor each others’ humanity/​life force without honoring our embodied differences. Too often, I hear people say “Why do we have to focus so much on labels? Why all this talk about difference? Can’t we just all be human?” While the sentiment is sometimes well-​intentioned, and is perhaps true in the absolute sense, it is often used as an admonition whenever difference or power dynamics are named. In other words, when someone names exclusion or points out who is not in the room, some people (most often those who are closest to the norm) try to silence that discussion by saying “we are all just human beings.” Whether they intend it or not, this further marginalizes people. The reality is that the connection that is desired with the phrase “we are all human,” never really existed—​at least for some people—​if the exclusions have to be named. So, ultimately, yes, we are all human and the ability to connect through our humanity would be nice. But power and oppression are preventing that by consistently dehumanizing some of us. We have to do the seriously messy work of unlearning oppression in order to get closer to this while honoring our embodied difference.When we honor and value our embodied difference in all its glory, then we can truly begin to access a connection based on our humanity. This is true, I believe, at the level of the individual and at the level of the collective and societal. Healing our fragmentation in order to embrace our wholeness is a messy process, but the result is worth it: we can actually begin to integrate, love, and BE with ALL the rich facets of our being.

PRACTICE 5.3  Embodied Code Switching* Directions: This is an embodied practice that is best done to a recording, so that you can focus on being present in the felt sense. So you can either record it for yourself, or access my website for a recording of it (bethberila. com). The directions are to “move,” and you can do this in whatever way is accessible to you: you can walk or dance, sit and sway; you can also do this energetically if the other options do not work for you (the focus is on the felt, embodied sense). You can make sound (though don’t talk to others, if you are doing it in a group). It is also very interesting to do this practice in a group, because then you can notice not only your felt sense and how it shapes how you move through space, but also how you relate to others in your various states. If you

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Navigating the In-Between  81 choose this option, there should be some trust developed between members of the group. Let each prompt take a few minutes, with a few breaths for the pause in between. The Practice What does it feel like when you feel safe and held, when you have found some refuge/​safety? Hold that feeling in your heart center and let it expand out through all the cells of your being. Move with that feeling guiding you. Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. Now sense how it feels when that safety or refuge is lacking. Hold that sense in your heart, letting it move through your body. Move in the way that that felt sense guides you. Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. What does it feel like when you feel empowered, integrated, your very best self? Hold that sense in your heart, letting it expand out to all the cells of your being. Move with that sense guiding you. Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. What does it feel like when you feel marginalized and fragmented? Hold that sense in your heart center, letting it guide your movement. Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. What does it feel like when you feel grounded? As you inhale, imagine drawing energy all the way up from the Earth’s center into your navel core (the seat of your fire), then into your heart center. As you exhale, send your energy pulsating down into the Earth’s core. Imagine you are intertwining hands and energy with the Earth’s core. (Do this for two deep, steady breaths.) Now, as you inhale, connect not only to the Earth’s core, but to all your ancestors, all the people who have gone before you. Draw their support and wisdom and love into your navel and heart center. Exhale, sending your wisdom, love, honoring back down. (Do this three times.) Keeping this connectedness and grounding, now move through the space. Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. What does it feel like when you feel unmoored, ungrounded? Let that felt sense guide your movement.

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82  Navigating the In-Between Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. Now imagine you are on a raft or a paddleboard (a flat, surfboard-​like boat that you sit or stand on on top of the water.) Imagine that the paddleboard represents your identity (racial, cultural, ethnic, gender, sexual, economic class, dis/​ability, national, religious, and so on). Your complex identity is represented as a circle around the board.You are positioned in the middle of it, and you inhabit its complexity all the time. Imagine the waters being the external world. How do you need to shift your weight to maintain balance, to stay afloat? Think of the last 48 hours of your life. Which parts of your identity have you been pressured or felt inspired to lean into? Lean away from? When and in what contexts? Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. Now what if the waters were not the external world and power dynamics, but instead are the people, practices, connections that ground you, that provide you refuge? What if these are the things that keep you afloat? Now how do you move on the paddleboard as you inhabit your complex identity? Can you find grounding in shifting groundlessness? Pause, come to stillness, and take a few breaths to let that sense go. Reflect on what insights you might have noticed through this embodied practice. What is one action/​organization/​social change practice you can engage in to help cultivate that sense of wholeness on more collective terms? (for example, policy work, volunteer work, mentoring youth, writing blogs, providing resources to underprivileged communities—​including your own, etc.) *I created this practice for a Mind Life Think Tank, Making Refuge, that I  was invited to attend in Berkley, July 2017.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Angie grew up in a biracial family; her mother is white, her father is African American. Her sister is much darker skinned then she is, and though Angie understands she benefits from the racism that privileges lighter skinned people, she also feels that it comes with a cost. She doesn’t feel like she really belongs anywhere. She “fits in” in the predominantly white town in which they grew up, as long as she doesn’t rock the boat. If she behaves the way people expect her to behave, she is considered “friendly and fun,” but that means never challenging the everyday racism she and her family experience. Sometimes, she feels relieved when she is with her African American family members, because at least that racism isn’t there. But she often gets subtle messages

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Navigating the In-Between  83 that she “isn’t Black enough.” On the one hand, she gets the light-​skinned privilege her sister doesn’t get, but on the other hand, she is sometimes jealous that her sister seems so much more accepted. The more she learns about feminism and social justice, the more she reads the writings of women of color, the more she realizes how much she has collapsed into appeasing behavior around her white friends. The price of belonging has meant giving up a part of herself, a price she is less and less willing to pay. She is also not willing to “choose” a part of her heritage at the expense of another. She is biracial, and she wants to not just live but thrive in the complexity of what that means.

Notes 1 In this chapter, I will move between the pronouns “we” and “they” to recognize that there are times I am included in this process (as I do code switch) and there are types of code switching I do not have to do because of where I am privileged. When I do use the “we,” I am still presuming a range of marginalized group experiences. 2 Anzaldúa’s thinking about nepantla is rich and complex. A full discussion of it is beyond the scope of this chapter. I highly recommend you read her book, Light in the Dark/​Luz en lo Oscuro: Rewriting Identity, Spirituality, Reality, to delve deeper. 3 Essentialism means that there is an assumed essence of someone that is “woman,” and the outer expression is simply a manifestation of that inner essence. It’s like essential oils—​you remove all the “extra” stuff to get down to the “natural,” “unchanging,” and “pure” essence.Think of the difference between an apple and an onion. In an apple, you eat away the outside and there remains a core—​the “core” or “essence” of woman.With an onion, you peel away all the layers of conditioning, behaviors, and beliefs, and there is no core. I take a queer perspective of gender that is more like the latter (Butler 2006).

References Ali, Diana. “Safe Spaces and Brave Spaces: Historical Context and Recommendations for Student Affairs Professionals.” NASPA Policy and Practice Series, no. 2. October 2017. Accessed September 12, 2019. www.naspa.org/​images/​uploads/​main/​Policy_​and_​ Practice_​No_​2_​Safe_​Brave_​Spaces.pdf. Anzaldúa, Gloria A. Borderlands/​La Frontera: The New Mestiza. 2nd ed. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books, 1999. Anzaldúa, Gloria A. Light in the Dark/​Luz en lo Oscuro: Rewriting Identity, Spirituality, Reality, edited by AnaLouise Keating. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2015. Arao, Brian and Kristi Clemens. “From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue around Diversity and Social Justice.” In The Art of Effective Facilitation, edited by Lisa M. Landreman, 135–​150. Sterling,VA: Stylus Publishing, 2013. Arthur, Chandra.“The Cost of Code Switching.”TEDxOrlando. August 22, 2017. Accessed September 12, 2019. www.youtube.com/​watch?v=Bo3hRq2RnNI. Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New  York: Routledge, 2006. Collins, Patricia Hill. “Learning from the Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought.” Social Problems, Special Theory Issue, 33, no. 6 (October–​ December 1986): S14–​S32. https://​doi.org/​10.2307/​800672.

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84  Navigating the In-Between Demby, Gene. “How Code-​Switching Explains the World.” NPR Code-​Switch. April 8, 2013. Accessed September 12, 2019. www.npr.org/​sections/​codeswitch/​2013/​04/​08/​ 176064688/​how-​code-​switching-​explains-​the-​world. Klie. “#MeToo: A Letter to the Women Who Exclude Trans and Non-​Binary People from ‘Safe Spaces.’” The Body Is Not an Apology. October 27, 2018. Accessed September 20, 2019. https://​thebodyisnotanapology.com/​magazine/​a-​chronology-​violence-​against-​ women-​when-​youre-​not-​a-​woman/​. Lewis, Maya. “As a Black Woman, I  Wish I  Could Stop Code Switching. Here’s Why.” Everyday Feminism. April 23, 2018. Accessed September 12, 2019. https://​ everydayfeminism.com/​2018/​04/​stop-​code-​switching/​. Lyiscott, Jamila. “3 Ways to Speak English.” TEDSalon NY. 2014. Accessed July 30, 2017. www.ted.com/​talks/​jamila_​lyiscott_​3_​ways_​to_​speak_​english. Manuel, Zenju Earthlyn. The Way of Tenderness: Awakening through Race, Sexuality, and Gender. Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications, 2015. Moraga, Cherríe and Gloria Anzaldúa. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color. 4th ed. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 2015. Thompson, Matt. “Five Reasons Why People Code-​Switch.” NPR Code-​Switch. April 13, 2013. Accessed September 12, 2019. www.npr.org/​sections/​codeswitch/​2013/​04/​13/​ 177126294/​five-​reasons-​why-​people-​code-​switch. Wilchins, Riki Anne. Read My Lips: Sexual Subversion and the End of Gender. Ithaca, NY: Firebrand Books, 1997. Young,Vershawn Ashanti. “‘Nah,We Straight’: An Argument against Code Switching.” JAC 29, no. 1/​2 (2009): 49–​76. www.jstor.org/​stable/​20866886.

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6  Recognizing and Dismantling Embodied Privilege

Recognizing and Dismantling Embodied Privilege Most feminists realize that dismantling privilege at both individual and structural levels is a critical part of social justice work. Privilege is a manifestation of an oppressive culture. All forms of oppression come with entitlements for those in the dominant group. Society is built around that group as the norm, so things tend to go much more smoothly for members of that group; we are valued more than those who are marginalized along that axis of identity (Powell 2012). Peggy McIntosh defines privilege as an invisible knapsack of benefits she can automatically count on to make her life easier (2012). These are “invisible” benefits that are automatically granted to members of the dominant group and are denied members of marginalized groups. Being in the dominant group of any category has “psychological advantages that translate into material returns” (DiAngelo 2018, 54). That doesn’t mean things are easy; people with privilege can still struggle and suffer pain and loss, but we systemically have doors open to us and fewer barriers in life than do marginalized groups. Those who get these privileges are taught not to see them and instead to see ourselves as “deserving,” which allows the privileges to continue unchecked (Johnson 2014; Johnson 2006; Buck 2014). The impact of how privilege shows up in the world is one cause of cumulative/​microaggressions. Many privileges should be basic human rights, but in unjust societies, they are only accessible to members of the dominant group. As feminists, it is critical that we challenge where we are granted privilege and that we also dismantle the larger systems that make privilege possible. White privilege, for instance, is a tool to reinforce white supremacy; heterosexual privilege is a manifestation of heteronormativity. We need to both interrupt the everyday acts of privilege and dismantle the larger systems of oppression that produce them in the first place: patriarchy, white supremacy, heteronormativity, cisnormativity, and so on. I assume that readers of this book have an understanding of privilege and so in this chapter, I am going to focus on working with the embodied manifestations of it so that we can dismantle it.

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86  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege

Shifting from Gut Reactions to Intentional Responses One of the reasons that conversations about oppression are so loaded is because privileged people often react defensively in ways that make the situation worse. Disrupting privilege demands that we first demystify how it works, including the paradigms that shore up those systems. In other words, most of us have learned narratives about the world that function to either obscure how power works or to justify it. When those paradigms get revealed as social constructions with consequences and as something that can be changed, people often react in ways that serve to keep them intact. These reactions are predictable, learned conditioning that preserve the power dynamics rather than dismantle them. People in dominant groups are taught that they are the norm in society; they/​we usually internalize ways of being that align with systems of power in society. Part of that internalization includes constructions of who we are and the (often hidden) power dynamics between ourselves and those who are “Othered.” That is how systems of oppression work. When we start to recognize privilege and the wider structures that produce it, our very paradigms and learned sense of who we are in the world become unsettled. This destabilizing is a necessary part of the process of unlearning and dismantling the systems, but it doesn’t come easily. The system has “emergency measures” that kick into gear when it is threatened. Those measures often take the form of scripts we have learned that are designed to prevent us from rocking the boat too much and ensure that we remain in line with the system (Watt 2007). As feminists, our job is to not participate in these common defensive moves. That is easier said then done because we will usually feel horrible when we are told we committed a cumulative/​microaggression. I presume that if you are reading this book, you care and are usually doing your best. So when you are told you have done harm, you likely feel badly.That is a normal human reaction. Systems of privilege, however, help us avoid that discomfort by piling on defense mechanisms that both avoid accountability and perpetuate the harm. These scripts are very predictable and they usually sound something like this: “I didn’t mean that.You’re being too sensitive.” “Why is everyone so politically correct these days?” “What do you mean I am privileged? I have worked hard to get where I am.” “But I am a good person.” “Oh no, I committed harm. I am a horrible person.” Underneath these statements runs intense embodied reactions that ultimately reflect the dissonance that arises when privileged people’s paradigms and conditioned sense of selves are challenged. Because we live in a culture that avoids discomfort at all costs, particularly within oppressive systems with emergency measures built in to ensure their functioning, most people do not know how to sit with and work through the deep, uncomfortable dissonance that arises. But it is critical that we learn to do so if we are to truly be accountable for the harm privilege causes and learn to dismantle it on individual, collective, and structural

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  87 levels. Alicia Garza, co-​founder of Black Lives Matters, writes, “If you don’t like to be uncomfortable, you need to get to the root of what you’re uncomfortable with” (qtd. in Matsuda 2018, 92).

PRACTICE 6.1  Sitting with Discomfort Set a timer for ten minutes. (Yes, ten minutes!) Find a quiet place to sit where you won’t be disturbed. Turn off all music, silence your texts and phone. You can sit or lie down, though be mindful of whether you might fall asleep if you lie down. If you are sitting, you can be in a chair with your feet on the floor; if you are sitting on the floor, it might be helpful to have a blanket or pillow under your sitz bones so your pelvis is at a bit of an angle. In general, take a comfortable position you can hold for about ten minutes. You can close your eyes or keep them softly focused on the floor. Extend up through your torso and draw your shoulders back, then soften into that posture. Turn your attention inward and just notice what your experience is. What are the thoughts moving through your mind? What is your physical state? Your emotional state? Bring your awareness to your breath. Watch your breath move in and out of your belly.Whenever your attention drifts to various thoughts, bring your awareness back to your breath. Notice if or when you start to feel any discomfort. It might be physical discomfort. Maybe you get the urge to scratch an itch. Maybe you want to fidget or shift. If you are in physical pain, definitely adjust your position. But if it is discomfort, I invite you to stay with it and explore it without satisfying the urge to move. How is the discomfort showing up? Do you get a tingling? Is it a surge of pent up energy? Is it a flood of thoughts and if so, what are they saying? Try not to dive into their storyline. Just notice them and let them pass. What happens if you don’t scratch that itch or move? Does the sensation change at all? Just keep getting curious. When the timer signals ten minutes, take a few deep breaths and gently move your body. The purpose of this practice is to become familiar with how we respond to particular types of discomfort in a fairly low-​stakes situation (one that is not an emotionally charged conversation and one in which we have control: we can move any time, we can stop the meditation any time, if we really need to). When we cultivate consistent awareness of how discomfort shows up for us, we can learn to work with it. For instance, I have found that in meditations like this, I get a desire to scratch and itch or move not because I really need to, but more as a distraction from engaging in stillness and deep reflection. If I don’t indulge that distraction, the sensations get stronger for a few moments but then they pass.You might have a different experience.The point is to become familiar with your experiences of discomfort.

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88  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege Once we become familiar with the process in low-​stakes situations, we also need to practice with much more intense situations, such as dismantling our privileges. Let’s explore how this process works and then go deeper into reflecting on how we respond to moments of discomfort and dissonance around privilege.1

The Dissonance of Disrupting Privilege The paradigms that uphold privilege are learned, which means they can be changed. Most people want to consider themselves good people, so any indication that we are not sends us into learned defense mechanisms. Author Robin DiAngelo notes, in the context of white racial dominance, that because we too often consider oppression to be about individual acts coming from uninformed, “bad” people, “we consider a challenge to our racial world views as a challenge to our very identities as good, moral people” (2018, 2). Similar reactions often happen with other privileged groups. However, if we instead see racism (and other systems of oppression) as deeply entrenched systems into which we are socialized, we “can receive feedback on [our] problematic racist patterns as a helpful way to support [our] learning and growth” (DiAngelo 2018, 3). Once we can respond in this more receptive manner, we can take better accountability, do our part in dismantling systems of oppression, and better align with our feminist commitments. But we often can’t get there until we deal with the embodied reactions to the situation I just described. DiAngelo has coined the revealing term “white fragility” to describe the very predictable defense mechanisms that automatically arise when whites are told of the harm their privileged behavior enacts. She writes that, “White fragility is a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress … becomes intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves” (DiAngelo 2018, 103). Since U.S. society has been built with whiteness as the norm, most whites are protected from any kind of racial stress, while people of color are targeted with racial violence on a daily basis. Therefore, whites typically have very little tolerance for the kind of discomfort that is both inevitable and necessary when honestly talking about racism and deeply working to transform the system. When even minimal racial discomfort arises for whites, we (I say we because I am white) often react in very predictable (and gendered) ways: tears, anger, outrage, etc. “Though white fragility is triggered by discomfort and anxiety, it is born of superiority and entitlement” (DiAngelo 2018, 2). These defense mechanisms are more than our human response to particular disturbing moments: they are learned conditioning that actually protect and perpetuate white supremacy. In fact, in difficult discussions about racism, many white people will claim that they/​we feel “unsafe” and require particular conditions (such as “civil” discourse and understanding of their hurt feelings) to even engage in the discussion. “The very conditions that most white people insist on to remain comfortable are those that support the racial status quo (white centrality, dominance, and professed innocence)” (DiAngelo 2018, 128). This framing needs to be challenged, because white people are actually not in danger from racism. It’s people of color who get put into internment

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  89 camps, experience racial profiling that often comes with the threat of death, and see themselves repeatedly demonized in the media. Too often, white people confuse their discomfort with a lack of safety. Many whites have cultivated little capacity for being with discomfort because we have been protected from it by white supremacy. As soon as white people say we are “unsafe,” any real discussions about racism are shut down and we become the victims, not the people of color who are actually victimized by racist systems (hopefully you can see how all these reactions shore up the system). What whites are usually feeling is racial discomfort, and that is (1) very different than a lack of safety, and (2) necessary to engage in order to fundamentally change systems.

Working with Our Embodied Reactions Most of the gut reactions that dominant groups experience when called out, if we enact them, will reinforce oppression. Much of the passage above explains that. But it is also not helpful to just tell ourselves to not have those reactions; pretending we don’t have those reactions doesn’t make them go away. We are more likely to be able to recognize them, not act them out, and transform them if we develop the skills to do so. Though there is a great deal of highly valuable work on the defense mechanisms around privilege, I  believe we have to work with the embodied layers before we can really access the real value of that analysis (Berila 2016). The next section works with the conditioned, embodied reactions so that we can alleviate them and bring our experiences and our actions in greater alignment with our feminist values. When we are told that we enacted oppression, our gut responses are automatic and often overwhelming. As Menakem notes, “white body supremacy” operates not only in our thoughts but also in: our muscles and nervous systems, where it routinely creates constrictions. But it operates most powerfully in our lizard brains. Our lizard brains cannot think. It is reflexively protective and it is strong. It loves whatever it feels will keep us safe, and it fears and hates whatever it feels will do us harm. (2017, 6) He goes on to say that “white fragility is thus a reflexive, protective response—​a way for the white body to avoid experiencing the pain and discomfort of its trauma” (2017, 102). Here, he is noting that most whites also have traumatic experiences in their ancestral lineages, but most white people are disconnected from that because part of the cost of whiteness was to disconnect us from our ancestors. We cannot heal what we are not aware of or tapped into; therefore, this trauma erupts in ways that often harm those around us, particularly marginalized groups. In saying this, Menakem is not saying that people of color and white people have the same racial trauma. He is saying, however, that whites need to get in touch with and heal their/​our own particular legacies of trauma in order to stop enacting it on people of color.

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PRACTICE 6.2  Reflecting on Our Embodied Reactions to Being Called Out Practice Find a quiet place to reflect and journal. Call to mind a moment when you were called out for doing harm through your heterosexual, racial, cisgender, class, gender, or any other kind of privilege. Get as detailed in your memory as you can: Who was involved? Where were you? What was the situation? Now reflect on how you responded when you were told you caused harm. What happened for you when you were called out? Emotionally: did you get angry and defensive? Did you appease and get overly apologetic? Whatever the emotion, how did you know that is what you are feeling? What were the embodied cues that told you that was what you were feeling? Physically: Did your heart race? Did you flush and start sweating? Did you physically get bigger or smaller? Thoughts: What reactions went through your head? Here are some common ones: “I didn’t mean that. Here is what I meant ….” “But, that’s not what happened ….” “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I feel horrible.” “I am a horrible person.” Other thoughts?* How strong were these gut reactions? Did they affect your capacity to respond in alignment with your feminist values? How often do these gut reactions arise when you are called on your privilege? *See DiAngelo (2018) for several other common examples and how they function to shore up racism.

Whatever was happening for you at any of these levels explored in the practice, for the purposes of this discussion, notice them without judgment. They are your reactions; they are learned, and they cannot be changed by pretending they aren’t there. Typically, they also can’t change by fighting against them. Often, when we fight against an internal reaction, it gets stronger. I know that this invitation runs counter to much social justice positioning: of course we judge injustice and harm, and of course we don’t want to “coddle” privilege. Yes, and. In order to actually undo them so that they do not keep happening, we need to work with them on an embodied level, not just argue with them so that they go underground. Working with them internally does not mean we act them out. In fact, it can actually make them less likely to be our gut reactions. We can undo the conditioning, but we have to do so at an embodied level, not just an intellectual one (Berila 2016).

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  91 Somatics teaches that the body is more willing to change when the reactions are acknowledged, understood, even validated (Generative Somatics 2018; Strozzi Institute 2019). Those gut reactions that make us defensive are learned conditioning that systems of oppression use to keep themselves intact. But often, they are so deeply ingrained that they seem like they serve to protect our safety, dignity, and belonging—​those core values that all humans need and deserve. I  said “seem” to protect because enacting privilege actually doesn’t do these things. Privilege disconnects us from others, it destroys other people’s dignity and belonging and therefore, ultimately, our own humanity (Powell 2012). And while on the surface, systems of oppression offer belonging to those who are privileged and deny it to those who are marginalized, ultimately, on the level of our fundamental humanity, systems of oppression deny belonging and dignity to everyone. However, we long for safety, dignity, and belonging, so if we feel like we are being told that we are horrible people when we are called out, our somas will automatically try to protect us. Reframing what is happening intellectually will only work once we have dealt with our embodied response. So how do we do that? 1. Notice what is happening on all the levels of our being (physically, emotionally, and so on). Don’t judge it; get curious. This level of witnessing can only happen in intense moments when we have practiced it in less intense moments, which is why a regular meditation practice of some kind is so important. 2. Take some deep breaths. Ground and center ourselves. Realign with our commitment to social justice. 3. Try to feel, in the depths of your body, that the defensive protections aren’t actually needed in this moment. The defensive thoughts that might be arising are learned conditioning; they are not TRUTH. 4. As you breathe in, remind yourself that listening to the perspectives of the person talking with you and learning from this moment, in alignment with your feminist commitment to justice, actually brings you both closer to dignity, safety, and belonging. Why? Because doing so fundamentally undermines the paradigms of separation that enable systems of oppression. As the Rev. angel Kyodo williams notes, The paradigms and the worldviews of white Western privilege … have been developed for no other reason but to bestow privilege on a very small group of people and to create separation. That’s what the construct of whiteness was for right from the beginning. This is not about bashing anybody for who they are or for their skin color. This is about a construct that was developed purely and solely in order to create separation and now that construct needs to be deconstructed. If we don’t do that, that separation will live on. (Sperry 2016, emphasis added)

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92  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege 5. Later, when you are not in the moment, reflect upon what was happening for you and what you wanted to say, even if you didn’t. This is the time to unravel the content of the internal narrative and see how it might come both from other moments in your own life and from oppressive conditioning. This part of the work is useful to do in partnership with other allies, not with people from the marginalized group in the situation. 6. Go to the steps I offer later in the chapter about how to respond when we mess up. We will likely be much better able to engage them authentically when we have created some space between our gut reaction and a more intentional response. In my experience, this happens only by working consciously and kindly with our embodied reactions. When we have quieted these learned defense patterns, we can actually get to the work of dismantling oppression. We could respond with gratitude, reflection, humility, empathy, and a willingness to learn, which will get us much further along the path of unlearning privilege than will any of the defense mechanisms (DiAngelo 2018). Remember that when a marginalized person tells us that we committed harm, that feedback is actually a gift. Even when it doesn’t feel good, it is an opportunity to better align with our commitment to social justice and to better become the person we want to be in the world (I assume that if you are reading this book, you don’t want to cause oppressive harm). Remember also that it is actually a chance to stay in relationship: the marginalized person could decide that we are too untrustworthy to tell us of our misstep; they could remove themselves from the relationship or keep the connection at a very superficial level in order to protect themselves. That they are taking the time, energy, and risk to tell us of their experience and what they want/​need from us is a gift and a chance to deepen into authentic relationship with one another. The responsibility is on us to receive it in a way that truly honors that gift and moves us all toward justice.

Resistance/​Dissonance and the Complexity of Privilege and Marginalization Many of us receive privilege somewhere (along class lines, because we are cisgender, because we are not currently living with a disability, because we are a citizen of the U.S., and so on). There may be aspects of our identity that grant us privilege even when we are also marginalized. Since we cannot compartmentalize our identity, those areas of privilege and marginalization inflect one another. In other words, being middle class and a cisgender man shapes that person’s experience of being Latino, for instance, and vice versa. This complexity also produces some of the common resistances to acknowledging privilege. For instance, a white person who has lived in deep poverty may balk when told she has privilege (Crosley-​Corcoran 2017). While it might be tempting to double-​down on arguing with the person about her privilege, it might be more productive to approach the situation through the following realizations. (1) People are typically more aware of where they are marginalized than of where they are privileged. That is how the system works. (2) I have found that people

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  93 are rarely willing or even able to address their privileges until their deep marginalization is recognized. Which leads me to (3)  The different systems are all deeply intertwined; white supremacy (in this example) is integrally supported by capitalism, and vice versa. So if that person wants to dismantle the systems that created their deep poverty, then they also have an investment in dismantling white supremacy that gives them some privilege. Recognizing this deep interdependence of systems of oppression does not and should not collapse into a sameness (as in we are all oppressed in the same way or to the same degree). But it also shouldn’t devolve into a ranking of oppressions. The point here is that while we need to challenge the resistances to accounting for where we get privileges, we also need to understand where some of the resistances to doing so come from and how they manifest in our soma. Simply arguing about content or analysis generally isn’t going to make much progress, because underneath all that are embodied reactions that need to be addressed. In the following passage, I am going to focus on someone who is both marginalized and privileged and who is committed to social justice. There are also, of course, resistances that arise when talking about privilege with someone who doesn’t care about social justice or who actively supports oppressive systems. See Chapters 7 and 8 for more tools to engage those situations. Let’s explore the following scenario: Sam has grown up in deep poverty, spending many nights cold and hungry. She is also queer, and has experienced both being targeted with homophobia and being in communities where people were so concerned about surviving poverty that no one cared that she was queer. So when she was first told that she received white privilege, she became defensive and argued with the person (whom she resented in part because this person was comfortably middle class and had no idea what Sam has struggled with in her life). This scenario is not meant to explain every person’s experience nor is it meant to provide excuses for the defensiveness that Sam expresses. But it is worth exploring, both from Sam’s (hypothetical) experience and from the experience of the person who challenged her privilege, what is happening here so we can more effectively and compassionately address situations such as this. As I discuss some possibilities, I invite you to apply the insights both to your own experiences of where and when you might have privilege and to your practices of talking with others about their privileges. One way of reading Sam’s defensiveness is to accuse her of not wanting to confront her privilege, which may or may not be true. My guess is, Sam might feel some of these reactions even if she is committed to social justice. Intersectional feminism helps us understand why: she isn’t only privileged, and society has made her much more aware of where she is oppressed. Moreover, since she has had to struggle so intensely to survive, she may not have seen where her whiteness protected her in ways that poor people of color have not benefited. But even deeper than that is the embodied reaction that may arise when she is told that she is privileged when she has had to struggle so much. A reaction usually comprises several layers, including the thoughts that emerge, which we may or may not speak, the emotions that arise, and their physical manifestations. In this

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94  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege case, let’s say the thoughts are, “what do you mean I am privileged? I have had to fight just to survive. If I had so much white privilege, then why have I been hungry and cold most of my life?” Underneath these thoughts is likely intense emotional energy—​perhaps anger, perhaps fear—​which may manifest as a racing heart, a tightening in one’s jaw or gut, and either a desire to get small and leave the situation or a desire to lash out. These embodied experiences are armoring that emerge to protect her and keep her safe, and if she does not address them, then the situation will continue to reproduce itself. I am not saying that marginalized people need to take care of privileged people’s reactions. I am saying that if we are privileged, we may need to work with our embodied reactions if we are really going to dismantle our privileges, and those reactions may be even more intense if we are also marginalized in some ways. In this case, for instance, Sam might need to take care of her need to have her experience of oppression recognized before she can also see where she has had privilege. She may need to hold space for her vulnerability and pain around her struggles of poverty while also recognizing that she may need to account for some privilege. The two do not have to be mutually exclusive. In order to do this, Sam (and many of us) needs to develop the capacity to carefully self-​reflect and to learn to listen, not just to someone else, but also to her own internal experience. Remember back to our discussions of embodied self-​reflection: when we armor, we do so to take care of ourselves and to preserve our human desire for safety, dignity, and belonging (Strozzi Institute 2019; Strozzi-​Heckler 2019). If we don’t understand what it is trying to take care of and provide some other way to do so, then the armoring will keep happening and/​or get stronger, regardless of what we may intellectually want. In other words, even if we intellectually want to dismantle our privilege, on an embodied level, we may still find our jaw and gut contracting, our heart racing, and our automatic tendencies to either run away or confront arise. We could, of course, push through those embodied reactions and just say the right thing, but that won’t really be authentic nor will it be lasting. To do the deep work of dismantling privilege, we need to work with our own internal reactions or resistances.

PRACTICE 6.3 Aligning Our Responses with Our Commitments When Called Out I suggest you set a timer for at least five minutes. Call to mind a moment when you had your privilege pointed out to you and you felt some resistance to recognizing it. If you have never had any resistance to that (though most of us have), then just think about where you might have privilege. If you don’t get any privilege anywhere in your life, think of a moment when you have called someone else on their privilege. Now turn inward and listen deeply. What thoughts are arising? What do you notice about your emotional state? Your physical reactions?

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  95 Breathe and try to soften your eyes, your jaw, and your posture. Notice if any judgment arises to whatever your reactions are and try to let that go. For the purposes of this practice, we just want to be curious. Keep going deeper in your reflection. Listen for what is underneath the thoughts.What is that narrative protecting? Where did it come from? Is your body contracting or hardening? If so, where? What is that sensation like? What is it trying to take care of? Keep going deeper and deeper, uncovering layers of your embodied reactions, until the timer goes off. I recommend you do this practice regularly as you consciously work to dismantle your privileges. Now remind yourself of your feminist values and consider the following question. What could you do/​say that is more aligned with your commitment to social justice? Internally: “I recognize that I want to get defensive or make excuses, but I am going to choose to listen instead.” “I notice my defensiveness arising. I recognize it but I am going to choose to not enact it. Instead, I am going to breathe, remain present, and listen.” Externally: “I am listening.” “I am sorry and I take accountability for _​_​_​_​_​_​.” (And then we really do need to take accountability.) Once we practice creating space around our gut reactions and understanding where they come from, we can also create more space to choose how to respond in ways that are more aligned with our values in the world. This invitation to reflect doesn’t mean that if we have gut reactions like Sam’s, we turn to people of color or other marginalized peoples for validation. As Mushim Patricia Ikeda writes in her article, “The Maturation of a White Ally,” As a white ally, it’s also possible that you may feel unseen, at times, in the ways that you have suffered from oppression … Everyone, without exception, has their own suffering. A mature white ally knows where to go for support, so that they don’t burden people of color with either their guilt that they benefit from white privilege, or their hurt feelings resulting from being rejected by people of color or from feeling not seen in their wholeness. (2016) We need to develop a community of committed social justice folk from our privileged identities so that we have places to go to process our complex reactions. It’s human to have the reactions; the issue is where we take them and what we do with them. Having a circle of informed allies of similar identities lets us process our reactions and work through them in skillful ways without getting them all over marginalized groups and thus causing more harm.

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Intersectionality and the Complexity of Belonging It is also important to develop these circles because, to the degree that we challenge our privilege and that of others in our privileged group, we will lose some belonging in that group.Though ultimately, dismantling privilege at individual, collective, and structural levels is a necessary step to both justice and liberation, it also comes with a price, most notably, the price of belonging. One of the benefits of privilege is membership to the dominant group, which means a level of acceptance, camaraderie, and belonging (Fortgang 2017). But the price of acceptance into privileged groups is not rocking the boat, and once we start to do so, we will likely start being ostracized by who we have been taught are “our people.” That can be painful. As a white person who continues to do anti-​racist work, I  understand some of the pain of this cost. I  try to hold my grief and pain with compassion, and understand that ultimately, the collective connection that is made possible through working toward liberation is far deeper and has more integrity than the conditional belonging that is only offered if I conform to practices, power, and beliefs that run counter to who I  want to be in the world. I  remind myself that maybe I  don’t really want to belong if the price of doing so is participating in a system that harms others, or silencing my voice and values to conform to oppressive systems.While it is painful to lose some relationships, the work of liberation will, ultimately, open up other relationships that more fully honor everyone’s humanity. And, ideally, we can also stay in fraught relationships within our privileged groups to do the work of helping each other (within our privileged groups) dismantle our privilege. Yes, and. The cost to belonging is particularly painful in complex identities. For instance, if someone is a person of color, belonging in their racial group is often deeply critical to their well-​being. If that person starts challenging homophobia, transphobia, or Islamophobia, for instance, in their community, the threat of being ostracized by challenging certain privileged assumptions can jeopardize belonging that is critical to one’s wellbeing along other axes of oppression. Intersectionality can become a motivation for doing our work of challenging privilege wherever we receive it. For instance, as a queer ciswoman, I have experienced some marginalization. While those experiences are not the same as how other marginalized groups experience oppression, my experiences can still provide incentive for me to do my work of dismantling privilege, since I don’t want to participate in causing other people harm. Moreover, if I want people to unlearn their sexism, their heterosexism, and their cisnormativity, then I need to unlearn my racism, classism, ableism, and any other ways I have been socialized into dominance. We need to show up for each other to the best of our abilities, and recognize that all these systems depend on one another—​to pull one thread is to destabilize the whole web. They all harm everyone, even those who benefit from the systems (albeit in different ways and to different degrees) by cutting us off from our humanity and each other.

When We Cause Harm It is a “when,” not an “if.” As long as we live in an unjust world, we are continually saturated with oppressive power dynamics, which means that the unlearning

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  97 process is ongoing. No matter how hard we try and how informed we are, we will make missteps. The question is what we learn from them moving forward and how we are accountable to them. Remember that trust has to be earned. Individuals from marginalized groups have no reason to trust people who are privileged (and many reasons to distrust us) until we prove that we deserve that trust, and that is an ongoing process. The first step is to try to interrupt the privilege we have. The second is how to respond when we do mess up. Mia Mingus, disability justice leader and founding member of the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective, says there are four key steps to apologizing when we have caused harm (in the context of low-​level harm, not extreme violence). The first is self-​reflection, so that we know we have made a mistake and understand its impact. Once we recognize that, then we need to apologize, repair, and change our behavior. This process depends on trust (re)building and needs to be done in relationship with each other (Mingus 2019). Here are some dos and don’ts for those moments when someone calls us in/​out for committing a micro/​cumulative aggression (more on the difference between calling in/​up and calling out in Chapter 7). 1. Listen. Then listen more.The most important first step in these moments is to listen to understand the person’s perspective (Hanh 2013).We can come from a place of inquiry rather than a certainty that we know what happened (Berila 2016, 104). We can trust that the other person is communicating something that “comes from something true in their experience” (Rome 2010).   Though our emotions and our inner narratives may be very intense in the moment, it is not the time or place to speak them.The more we have cultivated some of the compassion, self-​awareness, and presence discussed in the earlier chapters, the more we are likely to be able to notice our gut reactions, press pause, and instead turn our focus to really hearing what the other person is saying. Our commitment to feminism can motivate us to shift to an “attentive rather than a reactive listening” (Barbezat and Bush 2014, 138). We may have to sit with some discomfort and learn to be with uncertainty as we practice “radical openness” to hearing the person’s experience (Rome 2010).   Feminist professor and yoga teacher, Becky Thompson, suggests that bringing a quality of tenderness to ourselves and each other, to our teaching and our learning can be transformational. She writes, By tenderness I  mean an embodied way of being that allows us to listen deeply to each other, to consider perspectives that we may have thought way outside our own worldviews, to practice a patience and attentiveness that allow people to do their best work, to go beyond the given, the expected, the status quo. (2017, 1) Bringing this kind of tenderness to our listening does not mean that “anything goes” or that we simply let oppressive actions or statements slide. In some contexts, though, tenderness enables an understanding, a connection, a deeper

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98  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege communication, and possibly even a transformation. This is not an easy process, particularly around loaded social justice issues. Listening well takes time, skill, and a readiness to slow down, to let go of expectations, judgments, boredom, self-​assertiveness, defensiveness … [w]‌hen people experience the depth of being listened to like this, they also begin to listen to others in the same way. (Lindahl 2002, 12) This process is more likely to open a path to repairing the harm we have caused, enable transformation so that we are less likely to cause that harm again, and, therefore, deepen connection between.

PRACTICE 6.4  Practicing Attentive Listening When someone starts to talk with you, take a couple of deep breaths and center yourself. Notice if you start to plan what you are going to say instead of fully focusing on hearing what the person is communicating. Let your breath bring you back to presence. Try to drop down below you thoughts of your reactions and instead try to fully take in what they are saying.You can ask for a moment or two to gather your thoughts before you reply, if that time allows you to be present. Try to simply receive what the person is saying. I suggest you try this in less intense situations first. Over time, you might notice how often you are only half-​listening.You might also begin to develop the capacity to witness your own embodied reactions while simultaneously being present for what is being communicated. But at first, try simply to develop the skill of fully, deeply listening to understand, because that is critical to moving toward repair when we have caused harm. 2. Do not explain or make excuses. Even if you meant well (your intention) or you didn’t mean for something to have the effect that it did, remember that impact is much more important. Just listen. 3. Take accountability. Assess what kind of accountability is necessary in that moment. Apologize for your action and commit to reflecting on the moment and learning from it.   Remember that how someone responds to being called in to the harm that their acts of privilege cause is often more critical in building trust than the cumulative/​microaggression itself. Most marginalized people expect that privileged people will make missteps at some point. That is not always a deal breaker to relationships, unless it happens so much it becomes toxic. Often, the bigger barrier to trust and connection is how the privileged person responds when something is pointed out to us. Whether we show up and do the work when called in reveals a lot.

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  99 4. Repair. Depending on the misstep, we may have done damage to our relationship. According to Mingus, Repair includes making amends and rebuilding trust, so that you can assure others that you will not commit the hurt or harm again. It is an opportunity to do the work to be in right relationship with those you have hurt or harmed, and just as important, to also be in right relationship with yourself. (2019) 5. Reflect deeply on the moment after the fact and use the lesson to help you unlearn privilege and continue to align with your feminist values. 6. Process with other allies to help you reflect and remain accountable. It is important that you process with allies, not other people from the marginalized group. Do not put marginalized people (the one who called you in or others from that group) in the position of taking care of you, since that compounds the harm. Go to allies to process the moment if you need to talk about it. Go to informed allies: people who are also committed to unlearning oppression. Do not go to another privileged person who will simply dismiss the marginalized person’s concerns. Use the moment to deepen your integrity. Learning to take accountability, unlearn the paradigms and behaviors that produce the harm, and move toward repair is part of the process of disrupting privilege. The more we can be in relationship as we do so, the more we can move toward collective liberation.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Tom is a white, queer cisman who has been involved in feminist and social justice movements for many years. When he first became politicized (around the time he came out), he showed up at many protests and community meetings, wanting to change the world. Though people appreciated his energy, humor, and commitment, he also learned some hard lessons about how his white, male, and cisgender privilege affected how he showed up. He was called out many times. At first, he reacted in all the predictable ways: he got defensive, insisted he didn’t mean what they said he did, and got angry. Looking back, he is a bit ashamed of himself. But he also appreciates his steep learning curve. He has also paid close attention to how he feels when straight “allies” react in these same ways. When he is on the receiving end of these deflective and defensive behaviors, he has realized it compounds both the hurt and the frustration. He’s learned to use this lesson to inform how he engages his own work as an ally. After some good advice from a friend, he learned to listen more than he spoke in moments when he is called out. He has learned to recognize that many of his gut reactions are ones he doesn’t actually want to enact. So, when he sees that his internal narrative is to say, “you’re being oversensitive. That’s not what I meant,”

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100  Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege he recognizes that as learned conditioning that actually shores up privilege. When he wants to demand evidence for something or overly intellectualize a loaded moment, he has learned to recognize that reaction as the rationalizing tendency of white male privilege. When he gets angry or defensive, he has learned to breathe, pause, and listen. He now realizes how much of these gut reactions are both learned and counter-​ productive to his actual goals of justice and deep connection. Now, when they arise, he has learned to pause, notice them, and redirect his energy, so that he can show up in ways that are more aligned with his political commitments. It’s a process—​some days he does it better than others, but he is learning. He finds that when he responds rather than reacts, his relationships and community alliances are stronger.

Note 1 In this section, I am going to illustrate how this works in the context of racism; please translate this discussion to other systems of oppression while noting that there may be distinct nuances in other contexts.

References Barbezat, Daniel P. and Mirabai Bush. Contemplative Practices in Higher Education: Powerful Methods to Transform Teaching and Learning. New York: Jossey-​Bass, 2014. Berila, Beth. Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-​Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education. New York: Routledge, 2016. Buck, Pem Davidson. “Constructing Race, Creating White Privilege.” In Race, Class, and Gender in the United States: An Integrated Study. 9th ed., edited by Paula S. Rothenberg with Kelly S. Mayhew, 33–​38. New York: Worth Publishers, 2014. Crosley-​Corcoran, Gina. “Explaining White Privilege to a Broke White Person.” Huff Post. December 6, 2017. Accessed November 22, 2019. www.huffpost.com/​entry/​ explaining-​white-​privilege-​to-​a-​broke-​white-​person_​b_​5269255. DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2018. Fortgang, Tal. “Checking My Privilege.” In Privilege: A Reader, edited by Michael Kimmel and Abby L. Ferber, 17–​20. New York: Routledge, 2017. Generative Somatics. “T1 and T2 Training.” Los Angeles, CA, June/​July 2018. Hanh, Thich Nhat. The Art of Communicating. New York: HarperOne, 2013. Ikeda, Mushim Patricia. “The Maturation of a White Ally.” White Awake. May 16, 2016. Accessed November 22, 2019. https://​whiteawake.org/​2016/​05/​16/​the-​maturation-​ of-​a-​white-​ally/​. Johnson, Allan G. Privilege, Power, and Difference. 2nd ed. New York: McGraw-​Hill Higher Education, 2006. Johnson, Allan G. “Patriarchy.” In Race, Class, and Gender in the United States: An Integrated Study. 9th ed., edited by Paula S. Rothenberg with Kelly S. Mayhew, 153–​ 162. New York: Worth Publishers, 2014. Lindahl, Kay. The Sacred Art of Listening: Forty Reflections for Cultivating a Spiritual Practice. Woodstock,VT: Skylight Paths Publishing, 2002. Matsuda, Hisae. Leading with Love: Inspiration for Spiritual Activists. Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press, 2018.

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Recognizing and Dismantling Privilege  101 McIntosh, Peggy. “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” In Women Images and Realities: A Multicultural Anthology. edited by Suzanne Kelly, Gowri Parameswaran, and Nancy Schniedewind. 394–​398. New York: McGraw Hill, 2012. Menakem, Resmaa. My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies. Las Vegas, NV: Central Recovery Press, 2017. Mingus, Mia. “How to Give a Good Apology Part One: The Four Parts of Accountability.” Leaving Evidence. December 18, 2019. Accessed December 21, 2019. https://​ leavingevidence.wordpress.com/​2019/​12/​18/​how-​to-​g ive-​a-​good-​apology-​part-​1-​ the-​four-​parts-​of-​accountability/​. Powell, John A. Racing to Justice: Transforming Our Conceptions of Self and Other to Build an Inclusive Society. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2012. Rome, David. “Deep Listening.” Mindful. August 26, 2010. Accessed December 3, 2019. www.mindful.org/​deep-​listening/​. Sperry, Rod Meade. “Beyond Privilege: A Q & A with Angel Kyodo Williams.” Lion’s Roar. July 8, 2016. Accessed December 14, 2019. www.lionsroar.com/​beyond-​privilege-​qa-​ angel-​kyodo-​williams/​. Strozzi Institute. “Somatic Bodywork Seminar, Level One.” Petaluma, CA. June 2019. Strozzi-​Heckler,Richard.“The Power of EmbodiedTransformation.”Coaches Rising Online Training. Summer 2019. www.coachesrising.com/​powerofembodiedtransformation/​. Thompson, Becky. Teaching with Tenderness: Toward an Embodied Practice. Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2017. Watt, Sherry K. “Difficult Dialogues, Privilege, and Social Justice: Uses of the Privilege Identity Exploration (PIE) Model in Student Affairs Practice.” College Student Affairs Journal Spring 26, no. 2 (2007): 114–​125. Accessed November 27, 2019. https://​files. eric.ed.gov/​fulltext/​EJ899385.pdf.

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7  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?

What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? Part of feminist work in dismantling oppression involves being an ally, which means using one’s privilege and power to change systems of oppression, even if we ourselves are not directly targeted by that system. Allies work alongside marginalized groups, centering their voices and concerns and advocating for justice. Allyship requires deep self-​examination of one’s own beliefs and behaviors, cultivating awareness of how our particular social identities position us in society and in relation to one another. Effective allyship requires becoming aware of worldviews, paradigms, and power dynamics that we may have been taught not to recognize, which precipitates deep self-​reflection on our own complicity in systems of oppression. Allies need to educate ourselves about the experiences of marginalized peoples, learn to listen more than we speak, and constantly broaden our perspectives. An ally’s most important work is speaking to people of our own dominant group and using the privilege and power we do get to disrupt the system (Utt 2013). Once we have developed a social consciousness and awareness, allies need to use our positionality to advocate for and with marginalized groups. Sometimes that means challenging systems of oppression when it is safer for allies to do so than for marginalized groups. Sometimes it means using one’s power and privilege to create space for marginalized voices to speak—​to hand over the microphone and step out of the way. There are many different roles for allies, depending on the situation and context. The process of becoming an ally is a deeply transformational one (Gibson 2014). It is also one fraught with responsibility. One cannot be committed to feminist social justice and rest comfortably in one’s learned superiority, power, and privilege; instead, we must constantly interrogate and dismantle it. Ally is a verb, not a title or noun—​it is an active and lifelong process (Gibson 2014; Utt 2013). We also need to be accountable for the missteps we will inevitably make (Utt 2013).

Who Is an Ally? But what do we mean when we say ally? Who falls in that category and how do we become a good, effective, ally? Allies can refer to a few different groups. First, they can

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  103 be people of our same (or similar) identity whom we presume will “get it” because they have some experiences of oppression (though sometimes we use other labels besides “ally” to describe this group). For instance, if we are queer, we might expect that queer folks will get each other’s backs. If we are Indigenous, Black, or a person of color (IBPOC), we might expect other IBPOC to not only understand racism but work towards antiracism. This is especially true within particular groups. If we are Hmong, we might anticipate points of understanding with other Hmong people. Part of the reason this commonality doesn’t always exist is because we all have multifaceted, complex identities, so we will likely have different experiences of even the places where our identities intersect. A working-​class Chicana is going to have a different experience of being Chicana than is an upper-​class one, though there may still be some points of commonality. Another part of the problem comes from assuming an essentialist identity—​that there is one, “pure” notion of Chicana that everyone of that identity will experience. It is, therefore, often counterproductive to immediately assume commonality within a particular group even of the same identity. That isn’t likely to happen because of the ways the other vectors of our identity inflect our experience. Moreover, remember that intersectionality is not an identity; it is a way of analyzing power and a political practice (Sen 2017; Crenshaw 2016). Not everyone is informed by intersectional feminist frameworks. Assuming they are can lead to trouble. People may have a sense of connection and bonding over one aspect of their identity, such as racism. But being aware—​even being deeply knowledgeable—​of one “ism” does not mean that someone has done their work in unlearning other systems of oppression. Many people are more aware of where we are marginalized than we are of where we are privileged (Johnson 2006).A queer person of color, for instance, can feel bonded with other IBPOC, but that bond can be shaken when homophobia or transphobia erupts, or when that same person feels marginalized within LGBTQ+ spaces because of racism.This rupture is not uncommon within communities because they are complex. It is heartbreaking (not to mention baffling and infuriating) when it happens. For instance, when gay and lesbian folks fight hard to get the right to marry but then support the marginalization of transfolk and fail to fight against the violence so many transfolk face, the hope of solidarity is shaken.When bisexuals face comments, not just from the heterosexual community but also from within the queer community, about bisexuality being a “phase” or are seen as less trustworthy because people accuse them of being able to “pass” as heterosexual, this ignorance creates ruptures between people who should be natural allies.

PRACTICE 7.1  Expectations of Allies Journal about who you consider to be your allies in your life.Who are they? What identities do they hold? Why do you consider them allies? What are your expectations of them as allies? What do you expect them to do, to know, or to refrain from doing? Where do you expect points of connection with them? Where do the differences between you emerge?

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104  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? Now reflect on your expectations of those people. Where do those expectations come from? Have they emerged from your experiences with them or from a more general sense of how you think or hope they should be? (For instance, if you enter a space of mostly LGBTQ+ folk, do you expect that they will have certain politics, certain awareness of different identities and systems of oppression, certain experiences, or social justice commitments? Do those expectations come from you having seen evidence of that, or are they coming from a more ideal vision of what you think or hope those communities should be like? If it is the latter, you may find yourself disappointed at times.) You do not necessarily have to change your expectations. We should have standards for people we consider allies. But having standards and expecting that a particular group will automatically embody them can lead to disappointment. For the purposes of this practice, we just want to get clear on what our expectations are and where they have come from.

There are also differing levels of awareness about oppression even within marginalized groups. Some people experience the pain of oppression without having the language or the structural analysis to see it at work on a level larger than the individual. Some people have internalized oppression to such an extent that they have taken on some of the perspective and values of the dominant group. This is a consequence of the pervasiveness of oppression. In fact, it is a tool of oppression. We can internalize the gaze and perspective of the oppressor until it seems like our own voice. We can take on their values so that we play the game the way they want. It can also be a survival mechanism. Some people from marginalized groups simply want/​need to survive and succeed in the system (such as the workplace) instead of trying to challenge and change it. But that survival mechanism can cause rifts when it ends up harming other people of that same (or other) marginalized group(s). The other group that falls within the category of ally (and the more common usage of the term) are people with different, privileged identities who call themselves allies. This is the privileged group of a particular category who doesn’t live an experience of marginalization in that realm but who advocates for justice for that group. This group consists of whites working against racism, cisgender men working against patriarchy, people with economic security working to address classism, and so on. Because unlearning privilege and dismantling power is a lifelong process, it is virtually inevitable that these allies will make missteps, no matter how well informed and how well intentioned they are. I have done it far more times than I wish to count. When I am on the receiving end of an ally misstep, it isn’t the mistake itself that typically creates the deep betrayal, it’s when the person refuses to take accountability for it and learn from it. To be an ally, we have to be willing to constantly reflect on our privilege and the impact of our words and actions. Doing so means

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  105 being willing to be humble when we are called out. So when people who call themselves allies display all the predictable reactions to being called out: getting defensive, dismissing or minimizing the oppression, saying they didn’t do it, or doubling down on their position and refusing to reflect, then they are not really practicing being an ally (see Chapter 6 for more on this) (Johnson 2006; DiAngelo 2018). That is where my defensive walls go up. I am willing to cut people slack when they make a mistake, because we all do (that doesn’t mean there may not be some hurt to heal or some aspects of a relationship to mend). But when they are not willing to take accountability for their role in that—​for me, that is where the real breach of trust happens. More on this breach of trust later in the chapter.

Ally or Accomplice? The concept of “ally” has come under some critique for not going far enough. Some folks distinguish between “ally” and “accomplice.” Others use the term “co-​ conspirator” or “comrade” (Move to End Violence 2016). The difference is in the degree to which oppression is seen as individual versus structural and the degree to which a person is willing to take meaningful actions to end oppression (even at cost to themselves). In this distinction, those who see themselves as allies recognize that racism exists but might still see daily micro/​cumulative aggressions as the result of a “bad/​uninformed person” rather than the result of the very culture in which we all exist and in which they are also implicated. “An ally thinks the system is merely broken; an accomplice learns to recognize not a broken system, but one operating exactly as it was intended—​and works to dismantle its scaffolding, piece by piece” (Graham 2019). Accomplices, comrades, or co-​conspirators see the work as something they have an inherent investment in rather than something they are doing “on the behalf of ” marginalized groups (Clemens 2017). Even when they advocate against oppression, sometimes allies still see it as something they are doing “for” marginalized groups, which then often leads to an implicit or explicit desire for “ally brownie points.” In their article, “Accomplices, Not Allies: Abolishing the Ally Industrial Complex,” Indigenous Action Media describe some characteristics of what they call “the ally industrial complex” (n.d.) They note that allies often still romanticize oppressed groups and see them as “victims.” Sometimes, allies try to work out their shame and guilt through their ally work. When shame and guilt motivates ally work, it can lead to the “savior complex,” which then serves to reinforce the ally’s learned superiority. One version that this savior model can take is what Dr. Keith Edwards calls “Aspiring Ally for Self-​Interest” (2006) This is the person who will help a person he cares about, but not stand with an oppressed group. This ally sees things on an individual level, not a structural one, and so their actions of support are limited and based in self-​interest (though they are often oblivious to that). This ally feels “self-​actualized” and even “heroic” when they do allywork for those they care about—​so the act is as much about bolstering their sense of self as it is for the person they are “helping” (if not more so) (Edwards 2006).

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106  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? Allies, while they often provide valuable support, also can remain at the level of interpersonal support: talking about feelings without necessarily stepping up and doing the challenging work of dismantling the systems of violence that produce the pain, grief, and hurt in the first place (Paul 2017). Allies can get so caught in shame, guilt, and grief that they become immobilized, and movements need people willing to take meaningful action (Paul 2017; Move to End Violence 2016). Guilt and shame often characterize what Keith Edwards calls the “Aspiring Ally for Altruism” stage of allyship, in which guilt is the primary motivator for action. In this stage, the ally condemns other members of their group but doesn’t fully examine their own complicity. When challenged on the ways they are implicated in systemic oppression, this person will often get lost in guilt and defensiveness. This person sees themselves as a hero, and often takes a “paternalistic” view of marginalized groups (Edwards 2006). They can also get caught up on how the intervention is made rather than the message; allies might be concerned about “civility” or something being too “disruptive” (Graham 2019). There are many examples of this, but one recent close-​ to-​home one involved the many people in the Twin Cities (Minneapolis–​St. Paul) who might profess a commitment to racial equality, maybe even have a Black Lives Matter (BLM) sign on their lawn, but express concern at the disruption to “life as usual” when BLM shut down local highways to protest the murder of Philando Castille, an unarmed Black man, by a police officer during a traffic stop. This concern about “civility” often professes support up until an action is really disruptive, at which point there is more concern for preserving order (which upholds the status quo) than in changing the system. While some might bristle at the term accomplice, with its connotations of criminality, in the blog, “I Need an Accomplice, Not an Ally,” Dr. Jon Paul notes that systems of oppression construct many people of color as criminals, making their very existence a crime (2017). Being an accomplice means actively working to deconstruct that system (Edelman 2018; Cullors 2018; Morris 2016). Indigenous Action Media go on to name some of the other problematic behaviors of allies. Some allies position themselves as “experts” but don’t engage in deep dialogue or deeply challenge problematic structures (Indigenous Action Media n.d.). This is the person who speaks up when people notice and commend them, but doesn’t actually do the work necessary to transform structures of oppression, particularly when it makes them uncomfortable. Indigenous Action Media locate their critique of the “ally industrial complex” in the context of the decolonization of Indigenous land (n.d.). They assert that no matter how much one calls oneself an ally or an accomplice, if one is not Indigenous and is living on Indigenous land, than one is implicated in settler colonialism. Indigenous Action Media has noted that allies often build careers that depend on the very issues that are working to end. They get jobs at nonprofits, community organizations, in government or educational equity offices, and so on, often paid good salaries for skills that people in marginalized communities already have (Indigenous Action Media n.d.). This critique is part of the challenge to the nonprofit industrial complex (Incite! 2007). While many feminists work for

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  107 nonprofits, which often provide important resources and services to marginalized communities, there is also extensive critique of the nonprofit structure and its role/​complicity in oppression (Incite! 2007). Indigenous Action Media also call out academics and intellectuals who operate more as allies than as accomplices. It is worth reflecting (for myself and all of you readers) on whether this book is perpetuating some of the problematic ally moves that Indigenous Action Media critique. Since I use the term “unlearning” throughout this book, I  am including their critique here: they argue that “unlearning is not enough; we need to entirely disrupt and dismantle” (Indigenous Action Media n.d.). I would argue we should do both—​that the unlearning is a necessary part of dismantling systems. And, part of being an ally or accomplice means always reflecting on the impact of our actions, always refining them to be in greater alignment with our feminist values. That process can be uncomfortable, particularly when we find we have fallen short of our principles. So while I hope this book serves to support feminist work toward justice, I  am always reflecting on where my efforts (this book and all of my efforts) align with my values or fall short of them. That reflection is an ongoing and lifelong process. Some of you, while reading this section, might be thinking, “I don’t want to do any of these things they critique, but I recognize the value of ally work. So what do I do? How can I be better than these critiques?” That’s where the shift from ally to accomplice comes in. Accomplices show up and do the hard work required to structurally end oppression; they speak up and challenge structures even when it comes at personal cost or backlash. To be an accomplice, one must be willing to do more than listen; they must be willing to stand with those who are being attacked, excluded or otherwise mistreated, even if that means suffering personal or professional backlash. Being an accomplice means being willing to act with and for oppressed peoples and accepting the potential fallout from doing so. (Harden and Harden-​Moore 2019) Accomplices are deeply invested in ending injustice, both because oppression undermines everyone, even those who are privileged by it (albeit in different ways and to different degrees) and because liberation (for anyone; for everyone) isn’t possible until we dismantle all systems of oppression and create a very different world. How does one act as an accomplice? One listens within frameworks of cultural difference. One engages in accomplice work because one has an investment in it, not to “save” marginalized groups or soothe shame and guilt. One builds relationships of trust, which require showing up and taking accountability (Indigenous Action Media n.d.). It means going beyond talking to action, even when that action comes at cost to oneself (Paul 2017). Make no mistake, both allyship and being an accomplice come with a price: backlash from systems, loss of “belonging” in privileged groups, possibly economic and relationship loss (Johnson 2006). But the cost to the ally or accomplice groups is nowhere near the price

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108  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? paid by marginalized groups who are targeted by these systems of oppression. The price for allies or accomplices involves giving up the security of privilege (1) that we never really earned (that’s the very definition of privilege: “unearned benefits”) (McIntosh 1989); and (2) that comes, fundamentally, at the expense of marginalized groups. As a feminist, that’s a price for my privilege I do not want to pay. To become an accomplice requires being willing to give up significant power and privilege (Jackson 2016). To be an accomplice is to truly work in solidarity with someone (McKenzie 2013). It is to choose not to act out the common traps of allyship and instead to take on the responsibility to engage in action that shifts structural power and resources (Grant 2019; Johnson 2006). It means engaging in ongoing practices that allow us to show up with humility, clarity, accountability, and deep investment in the process of dismantling oppressive systems (Peacock 2018; Magee 2019). I share this distinction between ally and accomplice so that you know the conversation exists and so that you always consider the effectiveness of any ally or accomplice work: does it actually move us toward justice? In the rest of the chapter, however, I will use the term ally because it is more familiar with people; feel free to replace it with accomplice if you prefer. In the next sections, I explore what happens when professed allies and people we look up to as mentors disappoint us. This discussion will remain on an interpersonal level because this is a level with which I consistently see students struggle. I want to offer some tools to work on that level, and, I invite you to simultaneously hold the critique I just outlined in your awareness. Part of this work is remaining connected to our own humanity and that of those around us—​knowing that we will all make mistakes—​ and recognizing that to truly be in solidarity with other oppressed folk, we need to change structures of power, access to resources, and institutions through action (not just talk) that may come at some cost to allies/​accomplices. Remember that if we are privileged, then we have benefited (as have our ancestors) from particular systems of oppression, so what might feel like a cost is actually disrupting those very systems.

When Allies Disappoint Some of the most heartbreaking moments of doing social justice work come not when people who fundamentally disagree (PWFD) with us do something oppressive, but when that betrayal comes from people we thought were allies.That heartbreak is often tenfold, and it will likely cause us to be wary of fully trusting self-​professed allies again. When it comes to PWFD, even if we are in relationship with them, even if we love them, we often reserve a little part of ourselves as self-​ protection. We have fewer expectations that they will truly “get” us. But for people who are supposedly in solidarity with us, we may let down some of those protective barriers. We may open our hearts more, because most of us, on some deep, primal level, want to live with fully open hearts. When we think people “get us” or “get it,” we may release some of our armor in order to show up more fully as ourselves and build a less obstructed connection. When that trust is violated when allies disappoint us, the rawness is far deeper because

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  109 we have let ourselves be more vulnerable. And then we are reminded that it isn’t safe. This is part of the deep heartbreak of oppression.When we let our guard down and try to be more fully in connection, we are moving closer to our vision of a just world.We are trying to live into a world where we can truly be ourselves with one another, where we can live without barriers between us, where we can trust and be fully connected. So when those allies let us down, it is not just the individual relationship that gets shaken, it is our vision of a larger good and our hope in that possibility. We may begin to wonder whether it is actually possible to be in relationship with one another across radical difference in that wide-​open way. We may retreat further into a shell, becoming more and more reluctant to truly open up and be willing to trust. The more I do social justice work, the more I am challenged to both hold hard lines (there are certain things that are simply unacceptable) and simultaneously see and value people’s complex humanity. Systems of oppression have saturated our society so deeply for so long that they have infiltrated many of our cultural beliefs and practices. Virtually all of us have been affected by that saturation and for many of us, it will be a lifelong process of unlearning them. Sometimes we do it better than others times.The more I see that in my own life and in those around me, the more compassion I can have for when others stumble as well. The more I recognize other people’s humanity and the complexity of unraveling the fabric of oppression, the less likely I am to “write off ” allies when they “betray” me. In fact, I have started to think more about this sense of betrayal. Where does it come from, what is it about? This does not mean we do not sometimes have to set boundaries to take care of ourselves—​this is another “Yes, and” situation in which we may have to hold two seemingly contradictory truths simultaneously. I will talk about when we need to distance ourselves from certain allies, but first I want to explore a bit. I invite you to stay with me here.

PRACTICE 7.2 Working with Expectations, Trust, and Betrayal with Allies What are the “hard lines” for you? The deal breakers from allies that you just cannot accept? If it is difficult to think about this in the abstract, consider an example or two from your own life or from society when you felt someone betrayed social justice core values you hold. Now reflect on that situation more deeply.Why is this breach so unacceptable for you? What is really underneath that sense of betrayal? What arises for you when you contemplate it (in your body, your heart, your mind)? Are their actions the result of an ally not confronting their privilege? Have their (in)actions caused too many micro/​cumulative/​macro aggressions that it isn’t safe or life affirming for you to be around them? Are they trying to create change from within the system, with all the hard compromises that

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110  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? will inevitably entail? Are they becoming complicit and/​or are they on a different path to social justice than the one you follow? Can you understand, even a little, why that person did what they did? Is it worth you exploring this perspective a bit? If not, that’s fine too. (In some situations it is worth trying to understand and connecting with the complexity and fallibility involved with doing this work; in other situations it is just too costly to do so.) Sit with why you answer this question the way you do. The point here is not to change what your lines are. It is to invite you to get really clear on what they are and why. It is also to become really familiar with how you respond when those lines are crossed. What arose for you while reading this section? What were your immediate reactions when you read that perhaps, in addition to holding a hard line that some things are simply not OK, we might also hold compassion for people’s complex humanity? What does that feel like for you in the abstract? What gut reactions arose? In your body? In your heart? In your mind? Breathe through your reaction, whatever it may be. Don’t judge it. Just get curious. Now notice what happens when you apply this reflection to a specific situation in your life when you felt betrayed by an ally. What is your gut reaction to that? Again, just breathe through it and notice. Keep your wellbeing in mind and cease the reflection if it gets too intense. Feel whatever part of your body is touching the Earth, the floor, or the chair. (If you are sitting, feel your sitz bones on the chair. If you are standing, feel your feet on the floor.) Look around you and notice three blue things in the room. Or feel the texture of something around you. Breathe as deeply as feels comfortable. Stay with your gut reaction for a moment. What happens if you simply hold space for it? What might be underneath that reaction? What is that reaction reflecting or shielding you from? This practice is designed to help us become familiar with and befriend our reactions when we feel betrayed by an ally so that we can better understand what is going on for us, and so that we can become intentional rather than reactive.The point here is not to excuse the actions of allies who did us harm or to allow them to be oppressive. It is to work with our own reactions so that we can heal. It is also to recognize that there may be layers of “betrayals,” some of which require us to set firm boundaries around interactions with that person, but others that might require us to be in complex relation with that person, even while protecting ourselves from future harm. We might find ourselves responding differently to allies from privileged groups than we do to members of our own marginalized community who haven’t done their work in certain areas of oppression.

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When Trust Is Shaken So what do we do when these complexities make it difficult to trust people who call themselves allies? What do we do when we are in relationship with an ally who undermines our trust? Before I offer some possible approaches, I want to highlight a few things. First, it is not the people who are allies who get to decide if they really are allies—​that decision lies with the person to whom they want to be an ally. In other words, as a white person, I can and should do my best to behave as a good ally, but it’s really people of color who get to decide whether I am, indeed, an ally (and people of color do not speak in one voice). The marginalized person decides whether someone is an ally—​it is an earned identification. Actually, it’s not really an identification at all—​it’s an action and a process, not a label. Second, let’s pay attention to the phrase “in relationship with.” Being in relationship is a dynamic, organic process in which all parties bear responsibility. It requires showing up with an open heart. The strongest, most authentic relationships are built when we can see people as they really are, not who we expect them to be. This last point gets tricky when we are talking about social justice, because we do have expectations for how people behave in order to work toward a better world. A  central principle of feminism is “practicing what we preach”—​living our values in our daily actions. Another is accountability—​our own and holding others accountable to acting in accordance with our/​their principles. So there are expectations in social justice communities, and they are important. Particularly when it comes to allies, who can participate in our oppression without much consequence, it often takes accountability and showing up to begin to trust them and let down some of our protective armor. Yes, and. I will talk in later chapters about how we live contradictions as feminists. Given the world we currently have, there is no way to live a “pure feminism.” We are living contradictions everyday. One of them is the one I just mentioned: how to let relationships just be and let go of expectations, on the one hand, while also recognizing that we need people to show up and be accountable on the other. How can we allow those two truths to exist simultaneously? How can we hold them both softly in our hearts?

How We Work Toward Social Transformation The other complex reality to hold in our hearts is that there are many paths to social justice. They all have their strengths and their limitations. Some people choose to work within the system to create change. This approach is critical because it is the health care system, the media, the government we have. We can see, with this current administration, how harmful having the wrong people in charge can be. Because our current system is so influential, creating change from within is critical. Yes, and. The system will always co-​opt change. It will always take the edge off radical change to make the process more palatable (even profitable) for the powers that be. That doesn’t mean, in my book, that it we shouldn’t work for change from within systems, but it does mean that we should (1) recognize the serious limitations of that approach; and (2) not put all our efforts and hope in that basket.

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112  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? We should also be working to create change outside the system. Many feminists (myself included) feel the system is fundamentally flawed. Or, another way to say it is that the system is working just as it was meant to: to exploit a great many people. Working outside the system is to create change from the ground up on community levels. It enables the creation of empowering alternatives outside systemic constraints, and it more easily builds on the creativity and possibility of community vision. This approach often better reaches the most disenfranchised in communities, because it starts at the local level instead of having to trickle down. However, it often does not have the reach that change from within systems has, and it often cannot fully counter the impact of systemic policies, which is why we need those policies to be better, too (at least in the short term, while we simultaneously work to dismantle that system). In reality, we probably need change on all these levels simultaneously. But since there are limitations to all strategies, people often strongly disagree over how to work toward liberation. People who choose to work within the system are sometimes labeled “sellouts” by those who work at grassroots levels.Those who work on local levels are sometimes labeled “naïve” by those who work for systemic change. Of course, these are not the only two options. I am simply using them to illustrate a common issue that occurs with allies: someone who is deeply committed to one form of change may feel betrayed by the choices made by someone who is committed toward the other form of change. But that lets the system win. We need all forms of change. As individuals, we do not all have to participate in all forms of change—​some people are better suited toward one strategy than the other. But many different approaches have both value and limitations. When we can broaden our vision to recognize that, we can adapt our expectations of allies to be more realistic. That said, that does not mean that “anything goes.” The ends do not justify the means. There are compromises that we likely cannot live with. For instance, when someone works for change within the system—​say they become an elected official or they work in management or they become an editor of a magazine or a film director—​they have the opportunity to create influential change. But the pressures of the system and the industry will always force them to make some compromises. They will be able to push against the system in some places because they conform in others. If they don’t play the game at all, the system will spit them out. The question is: what compromises will they make and can they live with them? Can you? It may be that we see allies make compromises by which we feel betrayed. Some compromises we can understand, while others feel like betrayals of the greater vision of justice. Where that line is will vary for each of us. But we will need to get clear on that line and come to terms with the fact that it is rarely as clear of a line as we might want it to be. If we get to a point where we do, in fact, feel deeply betrayed by an ally, then we need to determine how best to respond. Whatever we choose, the invitation is to remain aligned with our vision of justice and of who we want to be in the world. Sometimes, the breach of trust is so deep or so repeated that we need to draw boundaries around our interactions with that person or people. Sometimes it helps to develop a kind of armor or protection that can shield us but is porous enough to also let us remain open to some degree.This can be useful

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  113 if we want to (or have to) remain in relationship with the person but also need to be wary and guard ourselves from further harm. Sometimes it helps to remember that we, too, have made similar mistakes as allies.Though it may have been around different issues, we may be able to connect to some empathy that allows us to remain compassionate and somewhat open. (Note: This step does not preclude needing to draw boundaries around a person/​ people. In other words, sometimes we can be empathetic and compassionate but still need to distance ourselves.) Sometimes we need to take a break from working with allies. This is where a coalition is helpful, so that when we step back, someone else can step up. It can also be helpful to reflect deeply on what we mean by trust and what our armor is really protecting us from—​to hold space for both the openness and the wariness, and to love ourselves wherever we are on the journey.

PRACTICE 7.3  Our Trust of Others and Others’ Trust of Us Journal or draw your stream of consciousness responses to the following questions: What does trust mean to you? How can you show up when you feel you can fully trust someone? What happens when you feel your trust has been violated? In your heart? In your body? In your mind? What armor do you wear to protect yourself from the betrayal of your trust? Where does that armor live in your body? What parts of your body harden or contract to protect you from betrayal? What would it look like to remain open, even when trust is shaken? Is it possible to maintain a relationship when trust is being (re)built? What do you require from the other person in order for that to happen? Sit with your reactions to those questions for a while. Then, perhaps on another day, explore these questions. Think of a moment when you were an ally to someone and they felt you had betrayed their trust. What happened? What was your role in the situation? Did you mean to betray their trust? How/​why did it happen anyway? How did you respond when/​if they pointed it out—​in the moment? In the months or years afterward? Did you make amends or rebuild the trust? How? What did you learn from that situation? Hold both of those reflections in your heart.You do not necessarily have to reconcile them, just hold space for both.

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114  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? If we are all harmed by oppression and have complex journeys of unlearning it in order to come to a more just world, then how do we expect to maintain relations and build community if we cut off everyone who makes a misstep? When working with social justice allies, there are both hard lines for each of us—​contradictions and actions we cannot reconcile—​and there are many more murky areas, in which we might not support an action but realize there might be reasons for it. It can be helpful to get clear on where our hard lines are and why … and realize that that terrain is ever changing along our journey. We think that if we build up protective barriers we can avoid the pain of broken trust (and sometimes that is truly necessary for one’s wellbeing). But the only way to heal is through the pain, though that happens in its own time. It is not always healthy to push ourselves to be there before we really are. Vulnerability and breaking open is often necessary to learn deeper ways of being with one another. Vulnerability without certainty is part of the work: mending our wounds with gentleness and being willing to take the risk anyway, with a generosity of spirit to know that people will make missteps. Maybe we can learn to trust not just other people, but in our larger vision of social transformation. Can we learn to trust the process and our vision of justice enough that we can allow people to be human and make the mistakes they—​we—​will inevitably make? Can we believe in our vision enough to remain aligned with it even when someone betrays us? Can we find a way to protect ourselves to whatever degree we need to while still remaining open to connection?

When Mentors Disappoint Mentors are people we look up to. Typically, they are people more advanced in their career/​experience/​skill than us, or they are people who have walked a similar path. They become our mentors because we value something in them that we want to learn from them. The best mentors help us cultivate something in ourselves and give us something to which we aspire. Mentoring happens in relationship, so there can be a deep bond between mentors and mentees. There is also often a power dynamic, because the person may be an elder, in a higher position than the mentee, or at the very least, the mentee sees that person as somehow more advanced. Typically, especially when people are younger, they tend to put their mentors on a pedestal. They revere their mentors. They aspire to be like them, at least in some ways. (I put the younger me in that category.) Sometimes, they even think the mentors have all the answers. So when a mentor disappoints us, it can be shattering. When I say disappoint here, I don’t mean the mentor fails to turn in a letter of recommendation for us, though that will be disappointing. I am also not talking about abuse or harassment, which is never acceptable. The kind of heartbreak I am talking about here is when our mentor doesn’t live up to our social justice ideals of them. Maybe we found feminism in a class with a particular person and continued to learn from that professor. In that process, we found our voice, began to exist in a strength we didn’t know we had, and continued to grow. Then, at some point, that feminist does something we find appalling because it does not

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  115 seem congruent with their espoused politics (and certainly not with ours). Maybe, for instance, we consider the person the epitome of feminism, but then the person continually misgenders transfolk in their class or erases trans issues entirely from the curriculum. Or maybe we are a community organizer and we have basically apprenticed with a veteran organizer in our community. This person opened doors for us, taught us our foundation of organizing, modeled for us how to do the work. But then at some point, the person creates a policy or makes a move that doesn’t seem to align with their values. We might find ourselves really disillusioned, if not shattered. One of the reasons it is so disillusioning when our mentors let us down is because we often hold unrealistic expectations of them. We construct an idea about who they are that is shaped by who we want or need them to be. Maybe we don’t notice where that ideal doesn’t really fit until they rip a giant hole in the fabric and in our relationship with them. We may begin to distrust them and whether it is safe to look up to someone. We may also begin to distrust our ideals, because if this person, whom we admire so much, cannot live up to them, then who can? Maybe, that little voice of doubt hisses, a more just world is not really possible. As disheartening as this experience is (and I  have been through it many times), I think part of the issue lies in our expectations of that mentor. If we have put them on a pedestal and expect them to be perfect, we are not seeing the whole person. Often, the conditions of the mentor/​mentee relationship in more formal spaces lend themselves to this, because we may only see a particular side of a person. So, for instance, with a student/​teacher or workplace mentor/​mentee, the power dynamics between the two and the professional codes of behavior in the space mean that the mentee may only see certain sides of the mentor. They don’t see the flaws or the humanness or the parts that don’t fit into that “professional” code, so it is easier to see the ideals and not the whole person. That is one reason why the dynamic of the heartbreak can change a bit over time. First, we get more and more exposure to the whole person as our roles change, so we are less likely to construct a “perfect” ideal. Second, once this heartbreak happens a few times, we can either choose to become jaded and limit this type of mentor relationship or we can become more realistic in what we expect. Third, we often find ourselves on the other side of that equation.When we become the mentor, we can see more clearly how the ideals that some mentees put on us, while perhaps flattering, are not realistic. We understand why we do what we do, that we, too, are on a learning curve. Hopefully, we see our own missteps, so we may become more understanding of our own mentors. While these situations can be deeply unsettling and painful to go through, especially the first couple of times, it is actually a good thing for the mentee to surpass the mentor. It means they are learning what they were in the relationship to learn. Mentors are on their own paths and on their own learning curves. Social justice, social issues, and feminism are all processes, and things change. The basic principles may remain constant, but their application in the world is always

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116  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? evolving. For instance, queer language, concepts, identities, are very different now than they were when I came out some 20 years ago. Or perhaps a better way of saying it is that they have multiplied in a beautiful way. Feminists can and should try to stay informed of these kinds of changes, but we may not be able to remain up-​to-​date on every aspect of oppression and every social issue.This is NOT to let people off the hook for being misinformed or making missteps, but it is to say that making a misstep does not make the person a bad person. It makes them a flawed human being, like everyone else. What does that mean? Remember how I  said that one of the reasons these disappointments become so painful is that it makes us question our ideals? In these situations, when our mentors disappoint us, it’s not just our relationship with our mentor that is shaken; it is also our sense of whether we can really believe in our ideals. That our trust in our ideals can be shaken so easily is because of a false premise: that the world has to be perfect in order for us to be able to believe in the possibility of a better world. In reality, the real richness of this human world is in the flaws and the vulnerability. It is in those moments of being shaken that we have an opportunity to choose how we will approach those challenges. We can choose to believe even more strongly in the ideals we are working towards, even as we notice all the moments when we falter. There’s a fragility that can also be a possibility for deep love, a brokenness that can also strengthen our commitment, a failure that can also lead to a deeper opening. Even as I  write about this compassion for those who make missteps, the social justice feminist in me rails about how this gentleness lets people off the hook, that it remains at the interpersonal level and doesn’t change systems, that it remains at the level of “allyship” already critiqued in this chapter. Perhaps it does. And, another part of me wonders why we can’t integrate the two: hold each other fiercely accountable while having compassion for humanity, give each other a chance to learn, set boundaries when that comes at too high a price, and dismantle systemic oppression and redistribute power and resources. Is it a false dichotomy? I don’t know. I invite you to explore what you think and feel.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Molly was attending a training with an organization for the first time. Most of the participants were white (as is Molly) and not particularly grounded in social justice or aware of their positionalities. There were three facilitators of the discussion, two people of color (Sam and Susan) and one white male (John). John had a great deal of standing in the organization. All the participants were sitting in a circle for this discussion and were supposed to respond to a prompt with a short sentence. As the discussion moved around the circle, many people (including many white participants) took longer than their allotted one sentence time. Then it was June’s turn. (June was a woman of color.) She started to share something particularly vulnerable. John interrupted and asked her a pointed question that read to Molly like, “get to the point.”

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  117 June hesitated, said something much more superficial than it sounded like she was going to say, and the group moved on to the next person. Molly immediately noticed the “wrongness” of the moment. It read to her like a silencing of a woman of color, when many white participants had offered lengthy answers with no interruption from the facilitators. Though Molly was supposed to be listening to the discussion as it went around the circle, she was assessing whether she should say something. She was new to the organization and didn’t have a good read yet of everything that was going on with it. She knew that June had worked with both John and the organization many times, so she didn’t know what kind of relationship they had and questioned if she really saw what she thought she saw. She observed, though, that June’s embodied posture changed; she started slumping her shoulders, cast her eyes down, and seemed withdrawn rather than attentive to what everyone else was saying.Though Molly knew she couldn’t know exactly what that meant, it was a change from the posture June had embodied before the exchange. Molly did wonder, though, if saying something would put the spotlight on June in an unwelcome way. Molly also considered that there had been several other cumulative/​microaggressions during her time in the training that she was pretty sure the people of color in the room noticed (she had heard some conversations) but that most of the white participants had not. Molly decided to say something for many reasons, including the fact that she had an investment in the culture shifting. She wanted to make sure that the other white participants in the room recognized that the moment was a problem. By the time she contemplated all this, the circle had finished and the group was about to break for lunch. Molly took some deep breaths and raised her hand, said what she observed, and noted the inequality of a white man silencing June while so many others, before and after her had taken so long. (To be honest, Molly was shaking when she voiced this. She was nervous how the statement would be received, whether it was really her place to say anything, and what the aftermath would be.) John acknowledged the situation (though it didn’t feel to Molly like he took actual accountability), no one else in the group really said anything, and the group broke for lunch. Molly was still shaking, so when the circle broke, she went for a walk outside and took several deep breaths until she felt more grounded. Later, a couple of other members of the group reflected to Molly that they had noticed it too (which helped, because Molly had begun to question whether she saw what she thought she saw). Though Molly wished the moment had been navigated more productively, she reminded herself that situations like these are often ongoing processes.

References Clemens, Colleen. “Ally or Accomplice? The Language of Activism.” Teaching Tolerance. June 5, 2017. Accessed December 10, 2019. www.tolerance.org/​magazine/​ally-​or-​ accomplice-​the-​language-​of-​activism.

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118  What Is an Ally and Is It Enough? Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “On Intersectionality.” Keynote. Women of the World Festival, 2016. Accessed October 11, 2019. www.youtube.com/​watch?v=-​DW4HLgYPlA. Cullors, Patrisse. When They Call You a Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018. DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2018. Edelman, Peter. “More Than a Nuisance: How Housing Ordinances Are Making Poverty a Crime.” The New Republic. April 10, 2018. Accessed October 7, 2019. https://​ newrepublic.com/​article/​147359/​nuisance-​laws-​making-​poverty-​crime. Edwards, Keith E. “Aspiring Social Justice Ally Identity Development.” NASPA Journal 43, no. 4 (2006): 39–​60. DOI: 10.2202/​1949–​6605.1722. Gibson, Priscilla Ann.“Extending the Ally Model of Social Justice to Social Work Pedagogy.” Journal of Teaching in Social Work 34, no. 2 (May 2, 2014): 199–​214. Accessed October 7, 2019. www.tandfonline.com/​doi/​full/​10.1080/​08841233.2014.890691. Graham, Renée. “Don’t Be an Ally. Be an Accomplice.” Boston Globe. June 20, 2019. Accessed October 11, 2019. www.bostonglobe.com/​opinion/​2019/​06/​20/​don-​ally-​ accomplice/​sdU0ulbN9q8SYLMgsxJfWI/​story.html. Grant, Jaime. “9 Reasons Why Acting in Solidarity for Racial Justice Is Preferable to ‘Allyship.’” The Body Is Not an Apology. May 30, 2019. Accessed July 4, 2019. https://​ thebodyisnotanapology.com/​magazine/​over-​the-​ally-​9-​ways-​solidarity-​is-​an-​act-​of-​ radical-​self-​love/​. Harden, Kimberly and Tai Harden-​Moore. “Moving from Ally to Accomplice: How Far Are You Willing to Go to Disrupt Racism in the Workplace?” Diverse Issues in Higher Education. March 4, 2019. Accessed June 28, 2019. https://​diverseeducation.com/​article/​138623/​. Incite! The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-​Profit Industrial Complex. Chapel Hill, NC: Duke University Press, 2007. Indigenous Action Media. “Accomplices Not Allies: Abolishing the Ally Industrial Complex.” Accessed June 28, 2019. www.indigenousaction.org/​accomplices-​not-​allies-​ abolishing-​the-​ally-​industrial-​complex/​. Jackson, Reagan. “Accomplices versus Allies.” The Seattle Globalist. July 14, 2016. Accessed October 7, 2019. www.seattleglobalist.com/​2016/​07/​14/​accomplices-​vs-​ allies/​53654. Johnson, Allan G. Privilege, Power, and Difference. 2nd ed. New York: McGraw-​Hill Higher Education, 2006. Magee, Rhonda. The Inner Work of Racial Justice: Healing Ourselves and Transforming Our Communities through Mindfulness. New York: Penguin Random House, 2019. McIntosh, Peggy. “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” Peace and Freedom. July/​ August 1989. Accessed October 9, 2019. https://​psychology.umbc.edu/​files/​ 2016/​10/​White-​Privilege_​McIntosh-​1989.pdf. McKenzie, Mia, “No More Allies.” Black Girl Dangerous. September 30, 2018. Accessed April 10, 2020. www.blackgirldangerous.com/​2013/​09/​no-​more-​allies/​. Morris, Monique W. Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools. New York: The New Press, 2016. Move to End Violence. “Ally or Co-​Conspirator? What It Means to Act #InSolidarity.” September 7, 2016. Accessed October 11, 2019. www.movetoendviolence.org/​blog/​ ally-​co-​conspirator-​means-​act-​insolidarity/​. Paul, Jon. “I Need an Accomplice, Not an Ally.” Efniks. September 8, 2017. Accessed October 9. 2019. http://​efniks.com/​home.

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What Is an Ally and Is It Enough?  119 Peacock, Jardana. A Guidebook for White People Working for Racial Justice. 2018. Sen, Rinku. “How to Do Intersectionality.” The Maven. December 19, 2017. Accessed December 23, 2017. www.themaven.net/​rinkusen/​politics/​how-​to-​do-​intersectionalityVMDT82Ef0kKj0pMsNo-​ulQ?full=1. Utt, Jamie. “So You Call Yourself an Ally: 10 Things ‘Allies’ Need to Know.” Everyday Feminism. November 8, 2013. Accessed October 12, 2019. https://​everydayfeminism. com/​2013/​11/​things-​allies-​need-​to-​know/​.

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8  How to Have Difficult Conversations about Social Justice Issues

How to Have Difficult Conversations about Social Justice Issues Difficult conversations come with the territory for feminists. One of the first steps to making this process easier is to just accept that they are a condition of being a feminist, at least as long as we live in an unjust world. The more we realize that these difficult conversations are part of the process, the less they take us by surprise. Of course, expecting them doesn’t inherently make them easier, particularly when some of these situations strike at the very core of who we are and intensify micro/​ cumulative aggressions. But it can help to remind ourselves that this is the work: that creating a more just world includes both large-​scale change (like laws, access to health care, media representations) and the local connections that happen through discussions that raise awareness and build connection. The good news is that there are also many awesome, inspiring, hopeful, and engaging conversations to be had. It’s not all bad or hard. Some of the discussions help us grow, challenge us, and expand our imagination about what is possible. When engaged skillfully, they can often transform towards justice. It is part of how we do feminist work in the world. In my experience as a feminist teacher, many people do not know how to have the more challenging conversations in ways that don’t make them explode in anger (or implode in anger and exhaustion); and don’t know how to engage them in ways that can transform someone’s perspective. How do we engage the people who disagree with us in ways that move toward justice? When should we do so, and when is the cost of doing so just too high? Before I go further, let me say that in this chapter, I am taking the perspective of a teacher who has taught about social justice issues for years. When I am in the classroom, I think my job is to try to teach everyone.1 In my role as a teacher, I try to cultivate a generosity of spirit and a patience to meet people where they are in order to help them broaden and deepen their understanding, while also navigating the complex power dynamics between identities in any given space. There are very few reactions to social justice issues that surprise me anymore. Many of them, in fact, are part of very predictable patterns. So over the years, I have cultivated an ability to meet people where they are and move them along incrementally (though admittedly, I am not perfect in this process). That is the perspective from which I am writing this chapter. I understand that not everyone wants to or can

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  121 exhibit that openness, particularly if what is said or done dehumanizes us. Please take what is useful for you in this chapter and leave the rest.

What Do I Mean by “Difficult Conversations”? Part of successfully handling challenging discussions involves clearly discerning their context and where/​why the other person(s) is entering into the conversation. As we learn how to engage people who disagree with us, it is helpful to look at some of the ways these discussions emerge: how and why they disagree, along with the situation, context, and relationship. The power dynamics and/​or the intimate connections between you and the person/​people in question will all shape which tactics are most useful. Here are a few manifestations of difficult conversations, though this is by no means a comprehensive list 1. Our own learned conditioning. First, we have to have difficult conversations with ourselves as we dismantle the socialized expectations that drape over us like a too-​tight corset, restricting our authentic sense of self. This unlearning is a lengthy process and not without its costs. These conversations are tough because the conditioning often runs deep. Removing the strictures often means disappointing loved ones or authority figures. It can seem easier to just do what is expected. Still, as the confines begin to dissipate, the hint of deep, vibrant energy within us calls to be released. As we remove one whalebone in the corset after another, feeling the glimpses of freedom it offers, we may begin to find our voice. We may begin to realize that we can take a breath—​a real, full, life-​giving breath. 2. Those around us who want us to do what is expected. Then there are the conversations with those who are pressuring us to conform to societal norms. People who want us to keep wearing the corsets, or have become so comfortable in their own that they are unsettled, sometimes even threatened, by those of us who want to remove the confines. They wonder what it will mean, for them, for the “order” of society, if we do it a different way, speak in our OWN voice, not the one that conforms.They may pressure us to “just do things the ‘normal’ way.” This response can come from deep love—​they may be worried about how hard our lives will be if we live them against the social grain—​or they may be unable to handle their own reactions when their own beliefs in what is “normal” are too unsettled. They then put their fear on us, using tactics like guilt, shame, attack, or threats to withhold love or material support to try to get us to conform.   These conversations are particularly heartbreaking because we are often in loving and/​or complicated relationships with this group of people. We may want to stay in relationship with them. We may want their approval or need their material support (especially if we are young). Being rejected or told to silence our truth is deeply painful when it comes from these people. And because family and loved ones often bring with them fraught baggage, each time these things happen—​the “little” comments, the passive aggressive snipes,

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122  How to Have Difficult Conversations the more explicit violence—​the relationships become more complicated and painful. At some point, we may need to decide to step away from certain relationships. But, best-​case scenario, the people who love us will work with us through the complexities, allow us to define ourselves as we need to, and we can begin to love each other even across very different political positions, and/​or move toward more common ground that doesn’t dehumanize people. 3. People attached to oppressive ideas/​practices. (Note #2 and #3 are not mutually exclusive categories.) Then there are the conversations with loved ones, acquaintances, or strangers who fundamentally do not agree with us. This group falls into a few different categories. One includes the people on the far right (if we are on the far left). People who unapologetically espouse racist or transphobic ideas, people who do not think critically about the misrepresentation that so often occurs in politics or the media and therefore reinforce stereotypes about poverty, people of color, Muslims, and so on. These conversations are loaded in a different way than the ones above. We may not have the close heart-​ties with them, but we have the ties to our own humanity and the humanity of those this group denigrates. Sometimes the pain from this group’s positions makes us forget to see their humanity (particularly when they refuse to see ours).   This group also includes the people in the middle—​those who do not have extreme differences in views but who also do not have the skills, the knowledge, or inclination to do the deep work of dismantling their own oppressive beliefs. Sometimes I  think this group is the hardest (though admittedly, the challenge of engaging them is often neck-​and-​neck with the family and loved ones group). This group includes the roommate or coworker who means well but doesn’t understand why it is offensive to touch a person of color’s hair. The person who thinks transfolk are being too sensitive when they get upset when they are misgendered, because “how was the person supposed to know?” The non-​Muslim person who asks Muslims to explain terrorism in the name of Islam and doesn’t understand how they are supposed to learn if Muslim people do not “teach them.” The person who is learning new things (which is good) but then platforms on it so proudly that we feel torn between being glad that they are on the learning curve and being dismayed that they are now soap boxing on something marginalized groups have been saying for years (not to mention that there is so much more complexity beyond that learning). DiAngelo says it well when describing this group around issues of racism: I believe that white progressives cause the most daily damage to people of color. I define a white progressive as any white person who thinks he or she is not racist, or is less racist, or in the “choir,” or already “gets it.” White progressives can be the most difficult for people of color because, to the degree that we think we have arrived, we will put our energy into making sure that others see us as having arrived. None of our energy will go into what we need to be doing for the rest of our lives: engaging in ongoing self-​awareness, continuing education, relationship building,

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  123 and actual antiracist practice. White progressives do indeed uphold and perpetrate racism, but our defensiveness and certitude make it virtually impossible to explain to us how we do so. (2018, 5) This group can be difficult to dialogue with because, to the degree they think they are “woke,” they can be resistant to continuing what is really a lifelong, unlearning journey. This group also usually exhibits some very predictable responses when you point out the micro/​cumulative aggressions (Sue 2010; Johnson 2006). These responses usually put the focus back on the person—​they feel bad, they don’t know, they cry—​so they become the victims. These behaviors demonstrate what DiAngelo coined “white fragility” in the context of racism, though similar defenses play out around other systems of oppression as well (more on white fragility in Chapter 6). This group also often gaslights by saying we are too sensitive or that things didn’t happen the way we experienced them. This group also includes those social justice and feminist allies who are vigilant about some aspects of oppression but have not done their work on other areas. Or they are continuing to unravel layers of oppressive beliefs (as we all are, and will be for the rest of our lives) and so inadvertently say or do something that reinforces the very thing they want to dismantle. Ideally, the feminist values of this group will motivate them to remain in the conversation, be humble, listen, reflect, and learn. Many times this is what happens. Sometimes, unfortunately, there comes a defensive reaction and a harmful Oppression Olympics. These conversations are heartbreaking in a different way, because they shatter any illusion of safety we might have had within social justice movements. One last note: remember that chances are, you are the person with whom someone has had to have a hard conversation (and if you are not, you will be). I have been on both sides of this conversation, and both sides are hard. Maybe you have too. That experience is useful, as it can help us have some empathy and compassion as we engage with these groups. This chapter will offer some practices and insights into how to engage these conversations. Please read this chapter in conjunction with other chapters in this book to address some of the deep complexities in each of these groups (which are far more complicated than they appear).

PRACTICE 8.1 A Shield of Protection Go to a place that makes you feel whole and safe. Maybe it’s a room in your house. Maybe it’s a garden.Wherever it is, go there and take a good seat.Take a few deep breaths to ground yourself and turn inward. Once you feel grounded, link your breath to the Earth. Imagine drawing energy up from the core of the Earth on an inhalation and sending energy back down to the Earth on your exhalation. Imagine your breath drawing a

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124  How to Have Difficult Conversations kind of force field around you. On your inhalation, draw the force field in an arc in front of you, on your exhalation, continue the arc behind you back down to the Earth. Continue this a couple of times. Then, in the following breaths, charge that force field with whatever you feel you need for the upcoming conversation: compassion, fierce love, whatever you want to inform your presence. Imagine this force field will protect you from taking in too much toxicity or suffering to your inner self. This is a permeable force field. It still lets you open your heart, connect with others, take in what you need to learn from. But it will help filter out toxicity, protect your heart, and let you be open without being a sponge. Before you close the meditation, set your intention for the conversation. What do you want to accomplish with it? How do you want to carry yourself in that engagement? Repeat that intention three times. Then gently open your eyes (if they were closed).* *This visioning protection exercise can be useful in helping us imagine and shape how much toxicity we take in. But it does not negate the material and psychological impacts of oppression—​we can’t just imagine those away. This is another “yes, and” moment. If this visioning exercise helps you, use it. If it doesn’t, explore some other ways of filtering out toxicity to whatever degree you can. We don’t have complete choice about how much toxicity we have to endure when we are marginalized, but we also don’t want to surrender all choice and agency.

Where Are People Entering the Conversation? Sometimes after a micro/​cumulative aggression, we need to simply shut it down. Particularly if we are bearing the brunt of the pain, it is not our job to educate someone who is being oppressive, nor is it always healthy for us to do so. In those moments, we can give ourselves permission to shut it down, and/​or leave the situation (if we can), and take care of ourselves. But in other moments, we can play an important role in engaging dialogue to transform. In order to do that effectively, we need to assess where people are entering into the conversation: what is their level of awareness around a particular issue? What are their existing commitments/​positions on the matter? How uncomfortable are they willing and able to be as they dismantle learned beliefs and raise their awareness? Because make no mistake, this process requires discomfort. It requires deep self-​reflection, shining a hard light on learned conditioning, and fiercely unearthing deeply held beliefs in order to connect more authentically with each other’s humanity. The payoff is well worth it, but people are often at varying levels of willingness and capacity to sit with discomfort (Wong 2004; Chödrön 2007). The good news is that we can cultivate the ability to sit with discomfort. (See Chapter 6 for more on discomfort.)

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It’s Not about Logic We often try to combat oppressive beliefs with facts, statistics, clear reasoning, and deduction. Those are all important tactics and we should keep using them. But much of the resistance we face is not about logic. No amount of logic will change it because it’s really about power, including worldviews, paradigms, and ways of being to which people are deeply attached. Many people are deeply invested in maintaining that power (whether consciously or subconsciously). It’s also about a sense of who people are in the world that gets shaken by feminist and social justice analysis. And it’s about our emotional and embodied (our somatic) reactions to this upheaval. When that clash occurs, people often feel a deep dissonance (Berila 2015). The ground has been taken out from under them and they scramble for footing. Many people do not have the capacity to sit with that dissonance and so they try to shore up their comfort in predictable ways. If we challenge the very construction of whiteness, for example, white people often respond in very predictable ways: guilt, shame, denial, “why can’t we all be one,” for instance. If we challenge cisgender-​normativity and heteronormativity, people will say things like “I don’t care who you love as long as I don’t have to see it,” or “it’s abnormal,” or other such predictable maneuvers to try to avoid the dissonance they feel and shore up their familiar paradigms. Similar discomfort and dissonance occurs around other topics and systems of oppression. One way to handle this is to become very familiar with those predictable patterns and have responses at the ready to address them. Another way is to examine what is underneath all these responses. These are knee-​jerk attempts to avoid the groundlessness created when one’s very sense of who one is in the world is shaken. Most people do not have the skills (and often even the inclination) to sit with the very uncomfortable dissonance that arises. Logic will not cultivate that ability, because it is an emotional and somatic response, not a rational one. In fact, sometimes logic is used as a weapon (particularly logic of a Eurocentric rational argumentation style) and as a way to avoid taking accountability or sinking into the embodied nature of the power dynamics in the room (DiAngelo 2011). That weaponization of logic became very clear to me, unfortunately, at a workshop I  once gave. I  had been brought in to an organization to do a series of workshops, most of which went very well. Then I gave what I thought would be my “easiest” workshop. From the very first go around, however, an older white man in the group made a comment that illustrated very common patterns of enacting white privilege. His comment dismissed the perspective of a student of color in what I considered to be a very arrogant way. Since we were so early in the workshop, I interrupted the moment and made a mental note to address the comment more explicitly later in the session. Not even a quarter of the way into my talk, this same man interrupted me, leaning forward on the table and saying something along the lines of “I have to stop you right there.” He then challenged my reference to systems of oppression, white supremacy, and privilege. I recognized a familiar tactic of avoiding talk of white and male privilege, and so I challenged that defense mechanism.

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126  How to Have Difficult Conversations He then changed tactics, getting more and more aggressive (including body language), challenging my approach. As his comments felt increasingly like an attack, I noticed that my heart was racing, I was shaking, I flushed, and I honestly wanted to leave the room. I  was also conscious, though, that as another white person and as the facilitator, it was my job to interrupt this moment. So I  did challenge his defense mechanisms. Unfortunately, I  was so shaken that I let him trap me in a back and forth exchange based on logic, and I let the exchange derail my entire workshop. Reflecting back on the situation, I am both frustrated with myself and surprised, since I  have experienced similar reactions from people before and I didn’t let it overwhelm me. But something about that moment unsettled my presence of mind and my groundedness. What I wish I had done is paused. Asked us all to breathe and ground ourselves, then addressed the power dynamics and behaviors being exhibited (the leaning forward on the table, the dismissive gesturing, etc.). I wish I had shifted the focus to reflecting on what was happening in our bodies at that moment (for everyone present). Go beneath all the logic (because it wasn’t really about logic; the tension that erupted in the room revealed that what was happening was way deeper than that).Though I don’t know if he would have wanted to or been able to answer the questions about embodiment, I think it would have been far more productive to move the reflection to that layer. It would have been helpful to hear from everyone else what they were experiencing at the somatic level. (I did open it up to other comments eventually, but I wish I had done so earlier.) We may have eventually gotten to a philosophical discussion of some of the points he raised, but what was far more operative in the room was what was being enacted and felt, not what was being said.2 That was one of many learning moments for me in doing this work, and you will likely have your own. Moments when the exchange did not go the way you had hoped or when you reflect back on it after the fact and wish you had handled it differently.That comes with the territory. Add those lessons to your repertoire. Be kind to yourself. Being ungrounded and even unskillful is understandable when power and aggression are coming at you. Take care of yourself, forgive yourself if you didn’t handle it the way you had wished, and add that lesson to your insights for the next time it happens.

When We Are Triggered Quite honestly, I was probably triggered in that exchange, because it came at me so aggressively. He interrupted me and challenged me with a willful antagonistic energy, not with a generous desire to truly dialogue and understand. It isn’t the first time Eurocentric logic was weaponized in ways that shored up power. Though I  have handled similar moments more skillfully in the past, for some reason, that one deeply upset me (so much so that I was in uncontrollable tears of anger, upset, and frustration by the end of the workshop, though fortunately not in his presence). Part of doing this work is learning our own triggers. Our own responses to difficult conversations are also more embodied than about logic. Our own buttons

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  127 get pushed, our own wounds deepened, and then we try to have these discussions from a place of hurt and reactivity. Taken together, these two parts are a recipe for disaster. They are also, however, an invitation to soften into uncertainty, self-​awareness, and grief.Why grief? Because look at the harm and the harsh disconnection these oppressive systems create. Look at the walls they put up between fellow human beings. Notice the pain it stirs up in all of us. No, I mean really reflect on it. That’s where mindfulness comes in. It takes a great deal more than strong critical thinking skills to engage in these dialogues productively. It also takes the mindfulness capacity to sit with the uncertainty that arises when our very sense of self is deeply shaken. To learn to know ourselves so well that we know our triggers and have some practices we can draw on to hold ourselves gently in those moments. To remember to see someone else’s humanity even as they are dehumanizing ourselves or others (which we do as much to preserve our own humanity as to recognize theirs).

The Messiness Is the Work In other chapters, I talk about our feminist visions that guide all our choices and work toward the more just world we want to create. I think we can all agree that we are not there yet. These hard conversations with people who disagree with us are the work. Sometimes, people think that the messiness is something that is getting in the way of the work. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen people, groups, or organizations erupt in messy situations that have the potential to bring down the relationship or collective. But instead of seeing those situations as barriers—​the things that are preventing the organization or relationship from “working”—​I have come to realize that those ruptures are, in fact, the work itself. They are opportunities to dig deep and have the difficult conversations, to create the change we want to see. Saying that “the messiness is the work” also means that that the work of staying in relationship with one another through challenging times is how we build more transformative communities. It is how we learn different, more loving, compassionate, and just ways of being with one another. (This goes back to the basic feminist precept that how we get there matters.) The more effectively and honestly we witness, reflect, and choose intentionally how we engage with what arises, the more we are able to transform, go deeper, learn new ways of being with one another.

PRACTICE 8.2  Reflecting on a Difficult Conversation: Did Our Actions Align with Our Commitment? Think of a difficult conversation about social justice that you have to have (Practice some self-​care and choose an example at about an intensity level of 4 on a scale of 1–​10). Imagine it as vividly as you can. Then turn inward and reflect on your reactions. Notice what arises for you with each breath.

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128  How to Have Difficult Conversations What does your gut want you to say or do? How does your body respond? What emotions arise? Take several breaths. Sit with those emotions. Reconnect in your heart to your feminist principles. What do those principles guide you to do or say in response? What would compassionate speech or action be in this moment? Remember that compassion can be fierce, and it is as much for you and how you want to be in the world as it is for the other person. Are the two aligned? Are your gut reactions aligned with your feminist values? If so, engage them. If not, make your choice about whether to engage them. Afterwards, reflect back. How did you feel after you said what you said, did what you did? Did it have the effect that you wanted? Do you feel at peace with how you responded? What can you learn from however things went? And whatever happened: be kind to yourself.

Basic Tips for Engaging Difficult Conversations 1. Get grounded.The first step to successfully engaging these hard conversations is grounding yourself. Return to the grounding practices I offered early in the book. If you anticipate having a challenging conversation, spend some serious time centering yourself beforehand. If the situation emerges unexpectedly, take a couple of breaths to intentionally center yourself. 2. Bookend the conversation. I also recommend bookending the conversation: ground and empower yourself first, then make sure to practice self-​care and reach out to your support network afterwards. 3. Practice cultivating the Witness. If it is an unanticipated conversation, practice the quick grounding practices to center yourself, practice the self-​ care afterwards, and try to maintain the Witness. These conversations get overwhelming quickly because we get lost in the intensity of the emotions—​ ours and those of the other people involved. The more we can stay embodied but not drown in the reactions, the more we can choose more intentionally how to engage. 4. Check in and discern your capacity for how deeply you should engage the conversation at that moment. How are you doing at that moment? Some days we have more capacity and energy to have hard conversations than we do on other days. If we are exhausted (emotionally or physically), if we are not in a good place, that is likely not the best time to have a challenging conversation. These conversations take a great deal of emotional energy, and it may not be in our best interest to have them in any given moment (Ferguson 2015). Of course, we do not always have that choice—​sometimes the conversations have us because of power dynamics. But if and when we have a choice, check in with whether we have the capacity to have it skillfully at that moment. The more often we do check-​ins with ourselves, the more

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  129 quickly we can do a nuanced read of ourselves. If we need to and if we can, we can decide not to “pick that battle” at that particular moment.   One thing I notice with my GWS students (and with myself when I first found feminism) is that there is such deep passion for social justice and so much energy built up behind a newly found feminist voice, that often students feel like they have to address every problematic comment, go to every rally, and challenge every oppressive situation. That passion is admirable. It is true that it is, in some ways, a luxury to not engage certain micro/​ cumulative aggressions. But it will, eventually, also become a survival necessity. Oppressed groups cannot challenge every single oppressive look, statement, condition, or event and still hope to have energy for their own wellbeing. Picking our battles is about a wise use of our energies. We do not always have a choice (sometimes the battle picks us), but when we do have a choice, notice whether that is where you can or want to go at any given moment. If you choose not to engage at that particular moment, do not worry; the opportunity will present itself again (unfortunately). One of the ways I gauge a situation is to ask myself, “Can I  engage this conversation skillfully?” If I cannot, then sometimes it is best to wait until I can, because otherwise, I end up making things worse. (Of course, if we are privileged in a situation, we should still ask ourselves this question, but also weigh our responsibility as an ally/​accomplice) (Ferguson 2015). 5. Set the terms of the conversation. Remember that you can sometimes set the terms of a conversation—​you can say you want to have it, but only under certain conditions, or you feel like it will go better for everyone involved if both of you take some time to reflect and then return to it at a set time and place. This can work particularly well for group #2 above. Admittedly, if there are major power differences this ability to set the terms may not be available. But it can be empowering to realize that we do not have to have the conversation whenever someone else wants it. Sometimes, it is actually counter-​ productive (and unkind) to do so. Here are some phrases you can practice to take some control over defining the parameters of the conversation (tweak them to make them sound more like you):   “I understand that you want to talk about X, but I  am not comfortable doing so right now.”   “I am willing to talk with you about x, but I think it would be better to set aside a time for us to do so, so that we are uninterrupted and I can better prepare myself.”   “I do not feel grounded right now [or I am too upset right now] [or YOU are too upset right now] to have this conversation effectively or kindly. I need to take some time and we can return to this conversation.”   “I am not comfortable having this conversation right now.”   Hopefully, the person will honor that boundary and suggestion. (If they do not honor your boundary, that is part of the problem.) My partner suggests a tactic of just repeating the sentence over and over, restating your boundary and position. (Such as stating that last one over and over if the person tries to keep having the conversation.)

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130  How to Have Difficult Conversations 6. Examine the context. What is the situation? What kind of time do you have? What are the power and identity dynamics involved? Are you rushing to get your kids to school and the bus driver does something problematic? Are you trying to have a conversation with your boss? Is this a relationship you are deeply invested in? Do you have a history with this person (and is it one of trust)? Is this a one-​time exchange or will you have the opportunity to follow-​up? If someone asks you something in an elevator or at a party and you do not have time (or maybe even inclination) at that moment to give a lengthy response, then have a short answer to either give a brief (but not too reductive) response, shut it down, or suggest a lengthier conversation over tea sometime. 7. Take it to the meta-​level. This is one of my most effective tools for having difficult conversations about oppression. If someone is interrupting, getting defensive, or engaging in other behaviors that are derailing the conversation, it can be helpful to move the conversation to a meta-​level, in which you pause your discussion of content to instead call attention to the behaviors being enacted. You might say something like, “I notice that you keep interrupting [or talking over] me.” Or, “I’ve been asking you to hear me and yet you keep arguing with me.” This technique is about naming the dynamics that are taking over the dialogue. That is what I  wish I  had done in the situation I  described earlier. Instead of arguing about content, I wish I had asked us to reflect on the actual embodied patterns and what were underneath them, not to excuse the behavior, but to get to why there was such a charge behind what he was saying. Sometimes, those behaviors are unconscious and getting the person to become aware of them and examine why they are happening and their impact on you can at best help them understand their resistance to the dissonance they are feeling, or at least shift some of the dynamics in the discussion that are likely not working for you. Other times, even if the person is well aware of their charged behavior or invested in it, the shift to the meta-​level demands accountability for their behavior and energy they are bringing into the space (even weaponizing). This technique also gets us away from arguing over logic (which is only a small part of what is at stake in discussions about oppression) and into what is really happening: the power at work, the embodied layers of shaking people’s paradigms, and so on.This technique takes some skill and not everyone will be able/​willing to explore their behaviors, but it can (1) give you a bit more control over how the conversation goes (you do not need to stay in a conversation if someone keeps talking over you); and (2) gets more directly to the core of the conversation by getting us out of our heads and into our somas (our whole beings). 8. Determine your goal. Do you want to shut down something problematic? Do you want to prove someone wrong? Do you want to be heard? Do you want to be right? Do you want to have a dialogue?   If you want to be right, and you are talking with someone who disagrees with you, do not expect transformation to occur. Often, people go into an argument in a righteous way (I count myself in this category at times in my

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  131 life). It feels really good to be righteous in the moment, but it rarely allows for an actual dialogue nor does it create change. In fact, often, these conversations simply escalate with two righteous people talking at each other and neither hearing or understanding the other. There are times and places when this approach may be the right one, but it will likely have a particular outcome. Just know that.   While you can get clearer about your own goals, you can’t always know someone else’s. Their goals, whether you know them or not (indeed, whether they know them or not), will influence how the conversation goes in ways you cannot control. Some people will just not hear you—​they may refuse to hear you, or they may be unable to hear you. If they are not ready to hear you at this time, know that you have planted a seed that you may not be around to see grow into fruition. If you value that relationship and if you want to/​can, keep the door open for future conversations when they are ready to hear you. Know that that will likely be a gradual process, not like the flick of a switch. If it is truly necessary, draw a boundary around your interactions with that person that honor and protect yourself. 9. Shift the conversation to a less loaded example to illustrate your point and develop understanding. Often, the situation at hand is fraught. Sometimes, people are better able to understand your point if you shift it to another context and use a different example, particularly one in which they have a vested interest. Once they have some understanding of your point, bring it back to the situation at hand and draw the parallel. For instance, many of the students at the university where I  teach are first-​generation college students, and I find that they understand economic class issues intuitively and experientially. So if there is some resistance to some of the other “isms” I might make the point using classism as an example, and once they understand the point (and even have some investment in undoing the system of oppression), I translate it back to the other system of oppression. Then, even if they are still resistant (to, say, a discussion of racism), they have to be more accountable for why they are willing to see the point around classism but not around racial oppression. That can lead to a productive conversation. 10. Help the person see why they, too, have a vested interest in what you are saying. Dominant groups are also hurt by oppressive systems, though not in the same way or to the same degree as marginalized groups. Helping them see how they or their loved ones are hurt by the behaviors/​positions they just enacted helps them see why they, too, have a stake in dismantling the system. (This is a good role for allies to play.) 11. Always keep sight of your vision of feminism, your values (how you want to be in the world), your own wellbeing, and how you want to be with others. Do the best you can, get out of the situation if you need to (and if you can), and know that you will have other opportunities. Many of these situations get better with time; others will always be hard. Until we live in an entirely just world, these kinds of conversations come with the territory of being a social change agent.

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A Word about Calling Out Many feminists and social justice activists like to “call people out” for making missteps—​people are condemned, often publicly, for the harm they have caused. There are absolutely times and places when that technique is important. Moreover, telling people not to be so “angry” or “confrontational” runs the risk of tone policing. (Tone policing occurs when a privileged person tells a marginalized person that they needs to be more polite and less angry in their message. It is a way of silencing the marginalized person and telling them to make their message more palatable to the privileged.) There are reasons why people are angry and there are times when confrontation or calling out is necessary. In fact, as Asam Ahmad notes in the article, “When Calling Out Makes Sense,” “sometimes the only way we can address harmful behaviours is by publicly naming them, in particular when there is a power imbalance between the people involved and speaking privately cannot rectify the situation” (2017). Ahmad points out that the expectation that calling-​in happens privately serves to maintain the power of the person who is critiqued rather than to expose them to pubic scrutiny. Sometimes that public scrutiny and the challenge to power is an essential part of the calling out because the accountability of the public venue provides some degree of protection from backlash from those in power. Ahmad goes on to say, Discussing the toxic aspects of call-​out culture requires acknowledging that some people’s anger and rage continues to be considered legitimate and reasonable (white men’s, mostly) while our culture teaches us that Black, racialized, and Indigenous people—​particularly women—​are always already angry and hostile. The question of whose anger counts as legitimate and valid is never just a neutral question; it is informed by what someone looks like, the colour of their skin, their gender, as well as their social standing and location. When thinking about call-​out culture or being called out yourself, it is illusory to pretend that everyone’s voice is equally heard. (Ahmad 2017) So who is deemed “angry” in the call-​out and who is tone policed absolutely varies based on power; those who are marginalized both are regularly deemed “too angry” and have their anger delegitimized and used as an excuse to not hear them. Public call-​outs sometimes create a necessary accountability for these dynamics. Yes, and. Not all difficult conversations have to involve a call-​out. One of the things I noticed early in my teaching career was that calling people out in particular ways simply either shamed or antagonized the person into going underground with their ideas. They didn’t actually reflect upon what they thought, delve deeply into the implication of it, and possibly transform it. Because so much of oppression is perpetuated by learned beliefs based on problematic constructs of self and other, because so many conditions of oppression are just taken for granted as “just the way things are” (especially by privileged groups but also sometimes by

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  133 marginalized ones), this deep reflection is really important. Sometimes, calling out in a shaming way does not enable that process. Instead, I moved towards the process of “calling in” or “calling up,” which is more about compassionately trying to transform (Ferguson 2015). We have all made missteps, and calling in offers people a chance to learn and transform their thinking and behaviors. Not every situation is appropriate for calling in, but in everyday conversations in which a person makes mistakes and you know that person really does want to transform, calling in may be a more effective strategy. Calling in is a process that can enable a conversation (Cassidy 2016). Sometimes, calling in involves listening that goes both ways (Johnson 2018). Yes, that means sometimes we need to be willing to rethink our own assumptions and views, too. Of course, I  don’t mean that we need to rethink our position that racism is inhumane—​that is not negotiable. But it may be that we assumed a person’s position on, say immigration, was anti-​immigrant when really they think certain policies would better serve immigrants. The idea here is not that we have to change our base-​line stances on what is or isn’t humane, but that we might want to hold off on assuming that the person is inherently a bad person without listening to their position. This is, of course, tricky territory, because marginalized groups are always asked to do the bridge-​making in ways that make them absorb more toxicity. Moreover, the claim that call-​out culture is toxic is often rightly critiqued as being more concerned with protecting the feelings of the person being called out than the harm their oppressive act/​statement caused (Thomas 2019).3 I am trying to walk a line between avoiding that while also recognizing that people are more willing to learn and transform their ways of thinking if they are seen as human beings. When I say calling in, I mean engaging in dialogue in order to connect and transform. Calling in means opening lines of communication, engaging in dialogue with some compassion (even when the conversation is fierce). In their article on, “Calling IN: A Less Disposable Way of Holding Each Other Accountable,” on Black Girl Dangerous, Ngọc Loan Trân explains it brilliantly: I picture “calling in” as a practice of pulling folks back in who have strayed from us. It means extending to ourselves the reality that we will and do … [mess] up, we stray, and there will always be a chance for us to return. Calling in as a practice of loving each other enough to allow each other to make mistakes, a practice of loving ourselves enough to know that what we’re trying to do here is a radical unlearning of everything we have been configured to believe is normal. (2013) It is important to note that these comments are in the context of communities of color who have some degree of trust established. It is not meant to be an excusing of privileged aggressions, but rather a way of engaging people who have established some degree of trust but who have messed up, which we all will, at one point or another in our journeys.

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134  How to Have Difficult Conversations This strategy is one in a broad toolbelt and is not appropriate for every situation. I am not saying that people of color should “call in” someone who is being blatantly or subtly racist. It is not my place as a white person to say which tactic is appropriate in those situations. It is certainly not appropriate to demand that people in an abusive situation “call in” their abusers. And, there are some challenging conversations where this practice will get us further—​further into authentic relationship with one another and, therefore, further in the transformation toward a just world. Sometimes, of course, the resistance people demonstrate reflects a staunch unwillingness to relinquish the power they hold in society. When that happens, one-​on-​one dialogues may not be the best route to transformation. At least, not with you. If you are marginalized and a person simply digs deep to hold onto their power in ways that harm you, then probably you are not the best person to have that conversation (mostly because of its cost to you). That is where allies come in, and where structural change efforts are important. Dialogue is not the only way to create change. While it is deeply important for community relations, and while personal relationships often motivate people to stay in challenging conversations in ways that abstract values do not, it is not always the best tactic for change. Any change agent needs a variety of tactics from which to draw.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Maya usually loves going home to see her family, but ever since she came out (as both queer and feminist), it has gotten much more complicated. The older members of her family don’t understand and tell her that she won’t fulfill her duty as a daughter and woman to get married and have children. At first, Maya angrily lashed out that it’s actually legal for same-​sex couples to get married in the U.S. (and in many countries around the world) and that she can both have children and adopt them (though she may not want to). Those arguments never went well. Her family was aghast and ashamed, and she left feeling both erased and horrible that she talked back to her elders. She’s talked with her sisters, though, who have helped her understand that her parents are worried about her and are struggling to reconcile their own deep beliefs about what is “right” and their love for her. Going away to college again helped a bit, since Maya had space away from her family to settle a bit and time to talk with her friends and professors about how best to handle the situation. Reading the poetry of Nayyirah Waheed and Warsan Shire helped. She loves her family so, so much, and they are a critical part of who she is as an Ethiopian woman, but she needs them to see her for who she is. She finally realized that her parents are doing the best they can and that she loves them enough to work with them in this challenging time. She knows her mother and father really care and want her to be happy, so she determines that while she won’t let them insult her (even inadvertently) she will try—​try—​to remain patient and explain that LGBTQ+ and feminist identity is not an American thing. That she can be a proud, Ethiopian woman and still be who she is. One step at a time, and she will try to do it in small doses, leaving to surround herself with

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How to Have Difficult Conversations  135 her feminist and queer community when she needs to. (Of course, that community, which is mixed racially and culturally, means that her racial and immigrant experience is often misunderstood, so it sometimes feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere. That is one reason she wants to work to stay in healthy relationship with parts of her family.) But her sexist, homophobic uncle, who seems to go out of his way to demean and insult her … that’s another story. She respects her elders and loves her family, but she can’t handle the exchanges with her uncle, which are so emotionally violent and draining. Her sister advises her to minimize time with him. She offers to run intervention and try to get him to treat her differently, even if he doesn’t fully understand. Her sister is so awesome. This will be a rocky journey, but she is committed to being true to who she is and to remaining in loving, healthy relationship with her family, so she will do the best she can to honor both.

Notes 1 I recognize that my positionality as a white, able-​bodied, cisgender woman also grants me the privilege to take this approach.While my colleagues who are more marginalized might also take this approach, the oppressive treatment they receive (interpersonally and structurally) shapes how they are treated. 2 Note that this kind of reflection on the somatic level of a situation takes some experience and skill to explore—​since many of us are actually disconnected from our somas by oppressive systems—​and it is not always safe for marginalized groups to move to this layer of reflection in hostile environments with power dynamics. I include this example here, though, to illustrate that (1) there are multiple layers of what is happening in any charged discussion; and (2) we won’t always handle them the way we might want to no matter how experienced we might be at social justice interchanges. That’s all part of the process. 3 This debate over whether call-​out culture is necessary or toxic came front and center recently after prominent Reproductive Justice icon Loretta Ross published an opinion piece in The New York Times, which the newspaper ran under the headline, “I’m a Black Feminist. I Think Call Out Culture Is Toxic” (2019). Both her article and the critique it spurred went viral.

References Ahmad, Asam. “When Calling Out Makes Sense.” Briarpatch. August 29, 2017. Accessed September 15, 2017. https://​briarpatchmagazine.com/​articles/​view/​when-​calling-​ out-​makes-​sense. Berila, Beth. Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-​Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education. New York: Routledge, 2015. Cassidy, Mel Mariposa. “A Practical Guide to Calling In.” Got Consent? May 29, 2016. Accessed October 17, 2019. https://​theconsentcrew.org/​2016/​05/​29/​calling-​in/​. Chödrön, Pema. Practicing Peace in Times of War. Boston, MA: Shambala, 2007. DiAngelo, Robin. “White Fragility.” The International Journal of Critical Pedagogy 3, no. 3 (2011): 54–​ 70. Accessed August 11, 2018. http://​libjournal.uncg.edu/​ijcp/​article/​ view/​249/​116.

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136  How to Have Difficult Conversations DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2018. Ferguson, Sian. “Calling In: A Quick Guide on When and How.” Everyday Feminism. January 17, 2015. Accessed December 10. 2019. https://​everydayfeminism.com/​2015/​ 01/​guide-​to-​calling-​in/​. Johnson, Allan G. Privilege, Power, and Difference. 2nd ed. New York: McGraw-​Hill Higher Education, 2006. Johnson, Maisha Z. “6 Signs Your Calling Out Isn’t Actually about Accountability.” The Body Is Not an Apology. January 21, 2018. Accessed August 7, 2018. https://​ thebodyisnotanapology.com/​magazine/​6-​signs-​your-​call-​out-​isnt-​actually-​about-​ accountability/​. Loan Trân, Ngọc.“Calling IN: A Less Disposable Way of Holding Each Other Accountable.” Black Girl Dangerous. December 18, 2013. Accessed September 15, 2017. www.bgdblog. org/​2013/​12/​calling-​less-​disposable-​way-​holding-​accountable/​. Ross, Loretta. “I’m a Black Feminist. I Think Call-​Out Culture Is Toxic.” The New York Times. August 17, 2019. Accessed October 17, 2019. www.nytimes.com/​2019/​08/​17/​ opinion/​sunday/​cancel-​culture-​call-​out.html. Sue, D.W., ed. Microaggressions and Marginality: Manifestations, Dynamics, and Impact. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, 2010. Thomas, Karla.“Mad about Call-​Out Culture? Stop Centering White Cultural Norms and Feelings.” Medium. August 25, 2019. Accessed October 17, 2019. https://​medium.com/​ quad-​rants-​4-​change/​mad-​about-​call-​out-​culture-​stop-​centering-​white-​cultural-​ norms-​feelings-​94335095e007. Wong, Yuk-​Lin Renita. “Knowing through Discomfort: A Mindfulness-​Based Critical Pedagogy.” Critical Social Work 5, no. 1 (2004) Accessed June 9, 2015. www1.uwindsor. ca/​criticalsocialwork/​knowing-​through-​discomfort-​a-​mindfulness-​based-​critical-​ social-​work-​pedagogy.

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9  On Anger and Love

On Anger and Love One of the stereotypes of feminism is that we are all angry, as though that’s an unreasonable response to the violence of oppression. Sexual assault, racial injustice, deportation that breaks up families, violence against trans communities, environmental degradation—​these are all ongoing social issues that invoke justifiable outrage.When feminists analyze, critique, or problematize power dynamics, we get seen as troublemakers. As Sara Ahmed writes, “When you expose a problem you pose a problem” (2017, 37). While the stereotype of the “angry feminist” is just that—​a stereotype—​the anger we often feel has its place in the world. Feminists express many emotions—​love, joy, compassion, and yes, anger. Anger is an emotion, and like any emotion, it is not inherently good or bad. It just is. It is a normal human reaction in the face of violation, violence, or betrayal. It’s a sign that something has crossed a boundary (Owens 2017). It is a “signal emotion. It warns us of indignity, threat, insult, and harm” (Chemaly 2018). It offers us information, if we learn to get curious about what is underneath it and the wisdom it offers to guide us through social transformation (Yang 2017).

PRACTICE 9.1  Understanding Our Anger What is your anger pointing to? What is it protecting? Reflect on a moment when you got really angry recently. Imagine the scene in concrete ways, remembering the context that produced the situation. Recall how you reacted and how the anger manifested in your body. How did anger show up for you? Did your jaw clench? Your eyes harden? Your gut tighten? Your shoulders contract? Did your torso get bigger, like you were preparing for a confrontation? Or did your shoulders curl in, like you were getting smaller and shielding your heart? Did your entire body prepare for flight? Notice however your body reacted, without judgment.We are simply gathering information and becoming more familiar with ourselves. Now go underneath the anger.What was it shielding you from? What was the tenderness underneath it? Was it fear? Hurt? What was your anger telling you? What insights was it offering you?

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138  On Anger and Love Were you able to access those insights in the moment, or did your reaction (which is likely your learned armor to protect yourself) conceal them? Notice that. Did your actions in the moment reflect the wisdom underneath your anger, or did you act in ways that ran counter to the wisdom? Notice that. You don’t have to judge it—​we do what we can do at the time. But notice the relationship between your anger, your actions, and your deeper wisdom. What insights does this reflection offer you for future moments when you get angry? Journal for a few moments about whatever you notice.

Anger is fire energy, which makes it life energy. It can fuel, catalyze, transform, and burn away that which no longer serves. It can also get out of hand in destructive ways (Manuel 2017). The question becomes how we respond to it and what function it serves. Our anger can catalyze transformation or it can eat away at us and those around us. In her book, Healing Rage: Women Making Inner Peace Possible, Buddhist leader and Emotional Wisdom Life Coach Ruth King distinguishes between anger and rage.1 Anger, she notes, is a response to a contemporary infraction or injustice, something that is happening in the now. We typically have some control over shaping the situation or leaving it (though not always, if the situation is the result of oppression). Rage, however, consists of built-​up energies that we have been unable to release. Rage is: an accumulation of anger, an experience that is primarily physical and rooted in unresolved or unknown traumas that shamed us in childhood. Rage is a visceral and instinctive response when we feel we have little or no control over what is threatening or harming us. (King 2007, 4) While King suggests that rage is seeded in childhood, daily and generational oppression is also a common root of this rage. It would make sense, since marginalized groups are rarely able to release their anger about oppression or to change every condition that results in cumulative/​micro/​macro aggressions. When our traumas are dismissed, neglected, or compounded, rather than addressed, validated, and healed, it is likely that rage will build. Mindfully working with our anger and rage involves becoming very clear on how they show up for us and learning how to release, heal, and channel them.This process involves careful self-​reflection—​with deep compassion—​and creating that pause between our experience and our reaction/​response to it. Like most intense emotions, both anger and rage are visceral. We can be consumed by them before we realize it. It is important that we learn to recognize and work with them, not only so that we can direct them towards useful actions that align with our vision of who we want to be, but also because “the ongoing, often unconscious struggle to repress rage causes suffering and drains our life force” (King 2007, 4).

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On Anger and Love  139 Anger can shut us down and lead us to despair. It can ramp us up until we are consumed by it and lead us to act in ways that cause more harm, or it can lead us to burn away that which isn’t helpful and illuminate new possibilities (Yang 2017). Some forms of anger are generative and illuminating. Those can catalyze powerful transformation. Others are toxic and destructive, to ourselves and to others. Dr. Reverend Manuel urges us to cultivate discernment so that we can distinguish between the fire that is toxic and runs counter to our liberatory values, and that which is a powerful, cleansing, and transformative force (Manuel 2017). At the time I am writing this chapter, Trump has been in office for a couple of years. Since he has taken office, public expressions of white supremacy, Islamophobia, and misogyny, among other forms of hatred, have intensified. Dr. Rev. Manuel notes that what we see erupting these days is hatred, not an anger that “illuminates” and moves us toward sustainable, just transformation (2017). She suggests that we actually need to be still in order to cultivate the discernment between toxic hatred and an “illuminating” anger (2017). It may seem counterproductive to talk about stillness when there is so much to be done in the world. How can we be still when people are dying, families are being broken up, and there is urgent work to do in our communities? Yes, and. All of that work is critical and urgent. And we need to do it in ways that align with our feminist vision in order to channel it into empowering transformation. Otherwise, it will either implode or explode, damaging ourselves and our communities. Finding a balance between stillness and action is critical for healthy change and healthy change agents. Dr. Rev. Manuel reminds us that this stillness already exists within us, as does deep wisdom. The practice is to access it, to peel away all the distractions and layers that bury it, so that those qualities can let us clearly discern what is happening, know ourselves well, and then act out of our deepest wisdom and our best selves. Sometimes it takes long meditation sessions to access this stillness—​that works for some of us. But there are other ways to do it. Maybe a daily 20 minute walk in nature to get your day started (this could be your walk to work or to the bus stop.Turn off music and just notice what is around you and within you). There are other ways as well. Cultivating regular periods of time to turn inward and listen for that wisdom is a powerful tool for effective social change agents. This is not stillness for the sake of stillness, but stillness in order to create social change with integrity. Because while anger is a powerful motivator for change, we cannot stop there. Alicia Garza, one of the founders of Black Lives Matter, notes that,“Anger plays an important place in transforming our political consciousness, but it’s not enough” (Garza 2017).We need to reflect on that anger, understand the wisdom it is offering us, recognize how it manifests in us and in others, and use it to transform. Audre Lorde says something similar in her powerful essay, “The Uses of Anger,” when she cautions us not to be afraid of anger but also to heed its message: It is not the anger of other women that will destroy us but our refusals to stand still, to listen to its rhythms, to learn within it, to move beyond the manner of presentation to the substance, to tap that anger as an important source of empowerment. (2007, 130)

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PRACTICE 9.2 Anger Check-​In The next time you get really angry, try taking a few deep breaths and asking yourself this question. Is your anger coming from a place of toxicity and causing you to “Other” the person in question? Is it illuminating something you need to notice? Is it offering a reservoir for you to catalyze positive change? What kind of energy is behind it? If you had to give it a tone of voice, what would it be? Is that tone of voice full of hatred, demonizing the other person? Or is the tone of voice urging you into productive action? What is your gut reaction and behavior? Do you become judgmental, controlling, appeasing, or distract yourself with Facebook? What does that behavior do for your embodied experience? (Does it ease the energy you were feeling?) What might have happened if you didn’t engage that “go-​ to” behavior, but instead reflected on the impulse to do so and the energy underneath it. Try to avoid becoming overly rational here. Stay with a heart centered, inward-​focused reflection. Note: In moments when anger or rage is really intense, we might not be ready to engage practices such as this. The “soothing” behaviors have served a purpose for us, and it can be helpful to work with a professional such as a therapist for really intense built-​up energies. But for lesser moments, we might learn some important information about ourselves and how we are in the world when we work with how our rage manifests. Remember: neither anger nor rage is a problem. The question is whether how we work with it aligns with our values and brings us closer to wholeness.

Getting Familiar with Our Anger One gift of stillness is the ability to know ourselves well. That is important in this context because rage can manifest in what King calls “disguises of rage.”2 We may have learned to manage our rage in ways that keep us from realizing that what we are actually feeling is, indeed, rage. Many of us were shamed and denied the expression of our anger, so it built into rage. We may have learned it was unsafe to feel anger. Moreover, when it comes to oppression, the conditions that produced our anger in the first place still exist. Even so, marginalized groups are generally not allowed rage, so it morphs into behaviors that disguise it. Sometimes, these manifestations of rage produce behavior that runs counter to our deepest values. So, for instance, we may go on the offensive and become confrontational and aggressive. Or we may try to distract ourselves with over-​indulgence. Or we may retreat and become depressed.These rage disguises, according to King, often maintain the mind/​body split, keeping us disconnected from our body to manage the shame and uncontrolled energy of rage (King 2007). These disguises may have served their purpose and even protected us for a time, but eventually they might hide built-​up energy that needs to be released and/​or healed.

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On Anger and Love  141 Recognizing which of these disguises often characterize our own behavior can be deeply helpful in both uncovering and then healing our rage. For instance, until I read King’s book, I didn’t realize that some behaviors that I regularly display could be about my rage. I now have different ways to work with the energy motivating those behaviors. We can also begin to recognize why our own rage disguises have the effect they do when they come into contact with the rage disguises of others. While anger can be transformational and illuminating, both anger and rage can manifest in unhelpful ways, particularly in a culture that often disparages and punishes rage from certain identities. Part of the work is becoming very familiar with how rage and anger show up for us, reflecting on our “default settings,” and discerning if they align with our deep wisdom and our vision of a better world. Of course, we also need to change the wider conditions that invoke that rage in the first place, but here I want to focus on cultivating the self-​reflection and self-​ befriending part of the process. Even if particular rage disguises no longer align with our values, they also have their wisdom. Part of the work is letting go of behavior that doesn’t serve us while accessing the wisdom that is “revealed when the anxiety associated with the weight of our disguise is attended to” (King 2007, 57). We developed the disguises as a protection when it wasn’t safe to feel or display our rage. But underneath them is deep wisdom, including clear discernment, the power of our fire energy, compassion, kindness, curiosity, fearlessness, and more (King 2007). Like many survival mechanisms, our rage disguises are attempts to protect us. Though they may no longer serve us, they nevertheless hold some wisdom. The trick is to distill and hold onto the wisdom while letting go of the behaviors that do not align with who we want to be in the world (or, in more immediate terms, don’t produce the outcomes we want when we act on them).

PRACTICE 9.3 The Wisdom of Our Anger Go back to the moment you just reflected on. Call to mind the details of what happened in that moment. Explore the wisdom underneath it. Peel away the actions you may have taken in that moment, the habitual reactions that distracted you from your rage. What was it actually telling you? What was it protecting you from? What was it guiding you toward? Can you see any of those wisdom qualities manifesting in that memory. In other words, when you remove some of the self-​protecting armor, can you discern any of that wisdom? If so, reflect on what that wisdom is revealing to you about that moment. How might you understand that moment more deeply with the gift of that wisdom? Once you reflect on that wisdom, might you have behaved any differently had you been able to access that wisdom in the moment? What actions or responses is that wisdom guiding you towards (in your individual life and/​or in collective action)? How might you be better able to access that wisdom in similar situations in the future?

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Who Is Allowed Anger No discussion about social justice and anger is complete without addressing who is denied anger and who is caricatured as angry. In the United States, the demonization or dismissal of anger is both gendered and racialized (Cep 2018; Chemaly 2019). White women are not supposed to get angry, according to the stereotypes. They/​we are often socialized to be properly “feminine,” “passive,” and “accommodating” (Traister, 2018; Chemaly 2019). Despite this well-​known stereotype, after Trump’s election, some white women have been expressing conservative beliefs with a very public anger of entitlement. This pattern has deep historical roots in what Dr. Carol Anderson calls “white rage” (Anderson 2017). Asian American women are often denied their anger because of the model minority myth combined with the passive submissive stereotype. They are often told they are not supposed to get angry (Yamada 2015). Any critique of the status quo is read as angry because it doesn’t conform to the submissive stereotype (Tang 2019). These constructs are just that—​they are created and forced upon people, so if the person behaves in ways that do not conform to that social expectation, they can be ignored, ostracized, or condemned. When that happens, their anger (and their whole being) get constructed as the problem, not the issue at which they are angry. This deflection of the real issue also happens when other people of color express anger. In the U.S., the “angry Black man” and “angry Black woman” construct stereotypes Black communities (Chemaly 2018; Griffin 2012; Cooper 2018; Allers 2018). It creates a double bind, in which they are caricatured as angry (even when they are not) while being denied the authenticity of their anger.Their actual anger is too often read, especially by whites, as more threatening than the oppression and violence to which they are responding. That creates both a hypervisibility (when any reaction they have is read as anger) and an invisibility (when there is no recognition for the validity of their actual anger). All of these stereotypes, understandably, are likely to create more anger and rage. Sometimes, people deeply internalize anger because they are not allowed to express it because it is dangerous to do so. In discussing his own anger, Lama Owens observes that because it wasn’t safe for him to enact his anger as a Black man, it imploded in harmful ways (Owens 2017). When marginalized groups express anger about oppression, they are often tone policed, which occurs when their anger is silenced and they are told that they are not expressing it “politely” enough. This strategy is a way for dominant groups to dismiss and avoid the concerns of the marginalized person, instead shifting the focus to their own comfort. I talk more about how privileged groups need to reframe tone policing in Chapter 6. Here, I want to talk about its impacts on marginalized groups. Lorde notes that her anger protected her and allowed her to survive intense oppression, so she was unwilling to release it just because it makes white people uncomfortable. She writes, my anger is no excuse for not dealing with your blindness, no reason to withdraw from the results of your own actions … My anger has meant pain to

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On Anger and Love  143 me but it has also meant survival, and before I give it up I’m going to be sure that there is something at least as powerful to replace it on the road to clarity. (Lorde 2007, 131–​132) It is important, then, for marginalized groups to honor their/​our anger and rage even when dominant society doesn’t (though, of course, we also need to survive the backlash that can come from expressing it) (Griffin 2012). Lama Owens reminds us if we don’t hold space for our experience of anger, it will either erupt or turn inward, both of which are harmful (2017). So he suggests giving our anger the space it needs.That doesn’t necessarily mean acting on it, but it does mean knowing it is there and listening for whatever wisdom it has to offer, including a reminder to set a boundary to protect ourselves from the hurt caused by the situation (2017).

When We Are Targets of Anger It’s one thing to talk about our own anger at daily oppression. But what about the hatred that is directed toward us by dominant groups and systems of oppression, including toxic masculinity, white supremacy, homophobia, Islamophobia, and transphobia. In this climate, those of us in marginalized groups are often targets of hatred and anger. First, let’s remember to distinguish between hatred, rage, and anger. Anger is a healthy human emotion signaling that a boundary has been violated; rage is the accumulation of energy from that anger that has not been discharged. These two require both a change in the conditions that produce the anger and a healing from the pain of those boundary violations. It is both possible and likely that members of dominant groups experience both rage and anger that need to be healed. This can occur both because systems of oppression harm everyone, including those who are privileged by them (though not in the same ways or to the same degree that it harms marginalized people), and also because, given intersectionality, they may be marginalized in some ways, too.The anger and rage may be coming in part from where they are marginalized. This does not mean we need to just endure someone else’s anger and rage; obviously, we still need to protect ourselves. But perhaps we can cultivate some empathy, compassion, and points of connection to the places where we, too, feel pain. (See my discussion of love later in the chapter for what I mean by this statement.) Hatred, on the other hand, is a weapon of oppression and we do NOT need to give it space. Hatred can result when a group blames “others” for their injury rather than tending to the feelings of hurt (Ahmed 2004). Lorde distinguishes between anger and hatred this way: “Hatred is the fury of those who do not share our goals, and its object is death and destruction. Anger is a grief of distortions between peers, and its object is change” (Lorde 2007). She goes on to highlight the hypocrisy of condemning Black women’s anger while ignoring the impact of institutionalized oppression and hatred: For it is not the anger of Black women which is dripping down over this globe like a diseased liquid. It is not my anger that launches rockets, spends over sixty thousand dollars a second on missiles and other agents of war and

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144  On Anger and Love death, slaughters children in cities, stockpiles nerve gas and chemical bombs, sodomizes our daughters and our earth. It is not the anger of Black women which corrodes into blind, dehumanizing power, bent upon the annihilation of us all unless we meet it with what we have, our power to examine and to redefine the terms upon which we will live and work; our power to envision and to reconstruct, anger by painful anger, stone upon heavy stone, a future of pollinating difference and the earth to support our choices. (Lorde 2007, 133) Co-​director of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, Katie Loncke, calls out this hypocrisy as it manifests in real time: when marginalized groups are targets of state-​ sanctioned violence but are denied their own reactions to that violence, which understandably includes anger (Owens 2017).This realization can be disconcerting, as we watch the hate-​filled policies, and even the hate-​filled rhetoric used to implement those policies, but then it’s the anger of the targeted groups that gets demonized. When this happens, Lama Owens suggests that we remember that that hatred is not personal (though it can feel like it). Compassion and loving-​kindness for ourselves and others can be a valuable antidote in these moments (2017). Loving-​ kindness is a Buddhist practice that invokes compassion, love, and kindness for ourselves, people we love unconditionally, people we hardly know, and people with whom we have complicated relations (Salzberg and Kabat-​Zinn 2002; Hanh 2011). It is a deep, rich, and challenging practice that can take years to explore. Even if you are not Buddhist, some sort of practice in which we cultivate kindness and compassion for ourselves and others can be deeply transformational, particularly in this divisive and fraught world. Sometimes, people think practicing love is all bubblegum and roses, but I would argue that it becomes most important to access loving compassion when we feel quite the opposite. For many of us, our current times invoke anger, frustration, despair, even hatred. THAT is precisely when compassion and kindness can be useful. We practice regularly so that it is available to us in intense times. Whether we can access it in the moment of our anger or rage will depend on whether we have practiced. If we cannot access our compassion and love when we are caught in intense reactions, we may drown in the reactions. But there is another possibility: which is to honor our reactions as natural human responses to injustice, work with that life force energy, and catalyze it into choosing a response (not a reaction) that moves us toward a better world. As Valarie Kaur, civil rights lawyer, activist, and founder of the Revolutionary Love Project, so powerfully says, “We love ourselves when we breathe through the fire of pain and refuse to let it harden into hate” (2017).

What’s Love Got to Do with It? How, though, can we talk about love when it feels like we are constantly targeted with oppression and hate? Yang names the challenge: how do we “do the compassionate thing when the world doesn’t feel compassionate? To be loving when we don’t feel love?” (Yang 2017).

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On Anger and Love  145 First, we need to consider what we mean when we talk about love. Many people think of love as a touchy feely, feel-​good thing. But it isn’t necessarily. As Kaur notes, love is not a sentimental outpouring but a redemptive good will toward all beings (which the Reverend Martin Luther King reminded us) (2016). hooks writes that “a love ethic presupposes that everyone has the right to be free, to live freely and well” (2000, 87). The form of love I am talking about here is the kind of love that is intimately partnered with justice. As Reverend angel Kyodo williams so powerfully notes, “Love and justice are not two. Without inner change there can be no outer change; without collective change, no change matters” (williams, Owens, and Syedullah 2016, 89). Cornel West has famously said that “justice is what love looks like in public” (2017). The two go together. Omid Safi notes that “Love is anemic without justice,” and that, in divisive times like the one we are in, there is “[n]‌o such thing as being apolitical” (2016). This form of love, then, is a place from which to do social justice work, connect with others, and recognize our interdependence in order to create a shift in values and to work toward a vision of a better world (Zimmerman and Quiroz 2016). Kaur says this about how she defines love: Revolutionary love is a well-​spring of care, an awakening to the inherent dignity and beauty of others and the earth, a quieting of the ego, a way of moving through the world in relationship, asking: “What is your story? What is at stake? What is my part in your flourishing?” Loving others, even our opponents, in this way has the power to sustain political, social and moral transformation. This is how love changes the world. (Kaur 2016) This is a rich quote with lots of useful insights to unpack. First, Revolutionary Love is an endless reservoir from which we can draw energy and nourishment. It lets us care for ourselves and each other because it reveals the inherent humanity and dignity of every living being (humans, animals, the Earth, etc.). We can’t really connect with one another until we can value the “dignity and beauty” of every being. In order to do that, we need to quiet the individualism that keeps us self-​centered. We also need to shed some of the “us and them” constructions that pervade our society and keep us from seeing and valuing how we are all interconnected. hooks writes, When we are taught that safety lies with sameness, then difference, of any kind, will appear as a threat. When we choose to love we choose to move against fear—​against alienation and separation. The choice to love is a choice to connect—​to find ourselves in the other. (hooks 2000, 93) Note that hooks writes “other,” not “Other.” Too often, our current social categories separate in ways that create “Others”—​constructions that separate, dehumanize, and therefore make it possible to oppress. Most feminists speak out against this process. But social justice work, in an attempt to create safety for marginalized

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146  On Anger and Love groups and condemn this Othering, can easily fall into a reductionist “us and them,” as in those who are “woke” and those who aren’t and therefore need to be “cancelled.”We can condemn those who don’t agree with us or aren’t as informed and then we cut them off from relationship. Sometimes, those boundaries need to happen in order for us to stay safe and healthy. But sometimes, we might want to reflect upon whether this dismissal of people is really aligned with our values. We might also want to ask ourselves whether it is an effective social transformation strategy. After all, the people we dismiss will likely keep having an impact on the world, so if we do not stay in dialogue with them as we work toward transformation, then how do we expect change to happen? Preaching to the choir feels more affirming but it doesn’t move change beyond those who are already “woke.” In my years of teaching I have found that people rarely deeply examine their own patterns of social conditioning from a place of shame or condemnation. In fact, quite the opposite typically occurs: they get more entrenched in their beliefs instead of opening to questions and unlearning. Moreover, if we think about our own journeys, were there times when we committed harm? Were their times when we were uninformed and we had to learn the hard way? What worked for us to get us to where we are today in our understanding of social justice? If we reflect on our own journey and recognize that no matter who we are and where we are positioned in social power dynamics, we will always have more to learn, we might be less willing to dismiss people for not knowing. This doesn’t mean that people who are oppressed need to educate dominant groups or that marginalized folks need to tolerate harm while people who don’t “get it” and enact harm. We need self-​care and community-​care boundaries, and sometimes, allies are best positioned to have certain conversations (see Chapter 7 for a discussion on that). I am simply inviting us to be mindful of whether we are perpetuating separation with our categories of “they get it” and “they don’t” that actually get in the way of creating the transformation we want to create. I am writing these words for myself as much as for anyone else. Though I can often approach this work from a more compassionate, expansive world view that (I hope) holds people accountable while realizing that we are all on journeys of unlearning, when I am really pushed, and my own safety or that of those around me is threatened, I too can move into the “us and them” categories as a mode of protection. For instance, I was recently in a group in which I challenged the white male leader of the group regarding a problematic micro/​cumulative aggression. I found myself putting up walls around him after that moment because he didn’t demonstrate the accountability I  felt was needed. I  stayed away from him and constructed a narrative in my mind that he was a “lost cause” along this learning path. As I  caught myself doing that, I  wondered (1)  where would I  be on my journey if people had done that to me? (2)  If we all do that, how are people like him going to unlearn their social conditioning and show up differently in the world? (This is especially true for me as a white, antiracist ally/​accomplice. People of color may need to make different choices about protection from white people who aren’t accountable.) (3) Does this practice of protecting with armor that perpetuates separation between us actually align with my feminist values and my vision of a more just world? When I  examined these questions, I  realized

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On Anger and Love  147 I needed to stay in relationship with him while continuing to hold him and myself accountable. If, as hooks suggests, love is an action not a feeling, then I can practice a love ethic by staying in relationship, doing my best to see people as complex human beings, recognize that we all have things to learn, and do my best to hold both of us accountable to the work of creating that more just world (hooks 2000, 6). If at some point, the relationship becomes untenable or unsafe, then I may need to make a different choice and set a different boundary, but for now, the situation invited me to rework my own tendency, when I am pushed, to don certain armoring that actually ran counter to what I want to see happen in this world. As hooks writes, Realistically, being part of a loving community does not mean we will not face conflicts, betrayals, negative outcomes from positive actions, or bad things happening to good people. Love allows us to confront these negative realities in a manner that is life-​affirming and life-​enhancing. (2000, 139) When we can shed these paradigms of “us and them,” “woke/​uneducated,” we can begin asking Kaur’s questions of one another and deeply listening to their answers: “What is your story? What is at stake? What is my part in your flourishing?” Shedding our ego is not the same thing as letting down our self-​protection, which marginalized groups arguably still need. Instead, it is about recognizing that we are interconnected. People have complex stories that often we do not know. We can begin to build a better world when we start showing up for one another.

PRACTICE 9.4  Practicing Love Call to mind some members of your community and explore what happens when you ask the questions Kaur suggests. For the purposes of this particular practice, see how: 1. You answer the questions given what you currently know; 2. Notice when you do not know the answers to the questions (and consider why you do not know those details about this other person); and 3. Notice what comes up for you when you imagine asking those questions about a particular person or group. For instance, notice if you feel warmth and more connected to the person, or if you feel aversion and resistance to asking those questions about the person. Sit with whatever arises and what insight those reactions offer. So to begin, consider the following questions Kaur offers: 1. What is your story? 2. What is at stake? 3. What is my part in your flourishing?

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148  On Anger and Love And now call to mind someone from each of the following groups, considering these questions in relation to each of them. Give each person several minutes. 1. Someone you love unconditionally. 2. Someone you have a complicated relationship with. 3. Someone you are deeply antagonistic with.* If you find that you cannot work with a particular group right now, that’s OK. Just notice that. I urge you to journal about your insights and come back to this practice regularly. After doing your initial reflection and observation practice, you can work with it. In doing so, you can stay with some of the first layers in order to cultivate the practice, slowly moving onto the later ones when you feel ready. *These questions are similar to those asked in loving-​kindness practices. This practice, however, is different than a loving-​kindness practice (which can also be deeply powerful, and if you are interested, I encourage you to explore that one, too).

I realize there is an inherent challenge here: why should we put energy into learning someone else’s story when they don’t want to hear ours? Why should we take accountability for their flourishing when they don’t give a damn about ours and, in fact, actively work against it? What if we are not in a place to “love our opponents”? Why should we do this when they clearly don’t love us? These are all good questions and if they resonate with you, then sit with them. Be authentic to where you are. If you don’t love your opponents, then you don’t. If you don’t want to try to get there, then you don’t. Honor that. False love is worse than honestly being where you are.This is not a good place to “fake it till you make it,” because that pretense of love is too close to the saccharin expressions of love many of us distrust. I invite you, if that is where you are, to also let yourself be in the place of not knowing, of living the question. Sometimes, when we honestly accept where we are, instead of fighting it or expecting it to be different, transformation begins to take place. Don’t force things. Just accept it and remain open to possibility. The point, for me, is how a reservoir of fierce love and compassion helps me be the person I want to be. It’s about living the world I ultimately want to see. Take this approach if you can and if you want it. If that’s not a good place to put your energies right now, then focus on love for you, for your community, for the Earth. And remember that both love and compassion can be fierce. Revolutionary Love, Kaur says, has three dimensions: 1. Love for others: This dimension is rough at times. It requires us to listen to their stories and ask the questions listed above. This isn’t easy, but it is fundamental to true solidarity.

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On Anger and Love  149 2. Love for opponents: At its best, this dimension recognizes that “there is no one so fallen that they do not have goodness in them.” This level might be tricky. But underneath this practice is the realization that “Our job is not to vanquish oppressors, to destroy our opponents, but to change the systems that produce them, the structures of injustice, the cultures of violence to free them as we free ourselves” (Kaur 2016). 3. Love for ourselves: This dimension, Kaur notes, is a feminist addition. This level is about sustaining our work and being able to embody the kind of change we want to see. I don’t think we can truly access the previous two emotions if we can’t practice this one (Kaur 2016). The kind of Revolutionary Love that Kaur is calling for (and other social justice icons before her have also invoked) is the kind that informs our actions and guides our choices so that they remain in integrity with our vision as much as possible. It helps insure that we do not dehumanize others, do not construct an over-​ simplified “us vs. them,” and do not “become the evil we deplore.”3 It also offers new possibilities. As Kaur points out, “when you are in love, you see with new eyes” (Kaur 2016). If we are to create a more just world, we have to both learn from those who have gone before us and imagine new ways of being, step outside the box, and approach things from new angles. Kaur says this kind of Revolutionary Love means showing up for each other and recognizing that we have a stake in ending the suffering of others (Kaur 2017). It is about relationships, which means it is not safe, comfortable, or easy (Kaur 2016). Sometimes, we even have to step out of the familiarity of our anger and use it to catalyze us to claim different ground. We may need to even step outside of our feminist/​social justice standpoints—​sometimes even those get so comfortable and prescriptive that they become dogma. Feminism and social justice need to constantly be evolving, too. That means both claiming our ground and simultaneously being open to groundedlessness. Kaur asks us to imagine what could be possible when this form of love fuels our social change work (2016). What kind of power could it have to change culture and policy? To create the kind of conditions that are required for lasting transformation? To embody the very compassion, love, and liberation we hope to someday create, so that our inner worlds and our outer world align? That is a kind of love I can get behind.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Hitomi grew up with the familial expectation that she would caretake others, respect authority and elders, and be polite. She could play that role, but she also often simmered in anger: anger at the white men who wanted to date her because she was “exotic,” anger at the teachers who couldn’t/​wouldn’t pronounce her name properly, anger at the freedom her brothers were allowed that she wasn’t. When she went to college, she learned a language for all the inequalities she had seen. She began to better understand where they came from and what effect they had. She began to reflect upon when she had something to say but would

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150  On Anger and Love silence herself. It was as if the words would bubble up, but a gate would stop them right before they erupted from her mouth. Her body would constrict and get tense. There was an internal conflict between speaking, which she longed to do, but which came with so much fear and guilt, or doing what she learned was expected of Japanese American women, which felt safe and would preserve people’s approval of her, but would also keep her stagnating, like she was trudging in thick mud. If she did express her anger, people seemed shocked. After all, Asian American women were supposed to be “passive and submissive” not “angry,” they said. What did she have to be angry about, her colleagues would imply? “Didn’t Asian Americans have it better than other minorities?” (Can we say Model Minority Myth, Hitomi would rage?) These dismissals hurt and made her angrier. When she went home, the layers of expectations landed on her even more heavily, because she had outgrown the willingness to silence herself in order to conform. But honoring her voice and anger meant causing rifts in her family and community, which was her link to her Japanese American identity. She didn’t want to lose her community or familial relations, but she couldn’t sacrifice her sense of self, either. She struggled with what to do. But she knew that whatever she did, she had to honor her voice. Fortunately, her feminist reading essays about this very experience—​and she realized that not only was there a reason for this conflict, but that she wasn’t alone. She read about Asian Pacific American Studies history. She learned about the oppression facing Asian American communities and all the freedom fighters who DID speak out. She found a feminist community that supported her. And she began to speak. To write spoken word poetry. She raged. She called people out. She spoke up for herself. And it felt good. It felt freeing. It felt like finally finding her voice.

Notes 1 While the book focuses on women (and anger, in U.S. society, is gendered), I think that many of its insights can be applied to other genders as well. 2 See King’s book, Healing Rage (2007), for a more detailed description of the different rage disguises and the wisdom they contain. 3 Congresswomen Barbara Lee (D-​Oakland-​CA) said this in her speech, before casting the single vote against President Bush’s use of military force in response to the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.

References Ahmed, Sara. The Cultural Politics of Emotion. New York: Routledge, 2004. Ahmed, Sara. Living a Feminist Life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2017. Allers, Kimberly Seals. “Black Women Have Never Had the Privilege of Rage.” HuffPost. October 14, 2018. Accessed October 3, 2019. www.huffpost.com/​entry/​opinion-​ angry-​black-​women_​n_​5bbf7652e4b040bb4e800249. Anderson, Carol. White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide. New  York: Bloomsbury, 2017.

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On Anger and Love  151 Cep, Casey. “The Perils and Possibilities of Anger.” The New  Yorker. October 8, 2018. Accessed October 3, 2019. www.newyorker.com/​magazine/​2018/​10/​15/​the-​perilsand-​possibilities-​of-​anger. Chemaly, Soraya. “The Power of Women’s Anger.” TEDWomen 2018. Accessed October 3, 2019. www.ted.com/​talks/​soraya_​chemaly_​the_​power_​of_​women_​s_​ anger?language=en. Chemaly, Soraya. Rage Becomes Her:The Power ofWomen’s Anger. New York:Atria Books,  2019. Cooper, Brittney. Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Super Power. New  York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018. Garza, Alicia. “Our Cynicism Will Not Build a Movement. Collaboration Will.” Mic.com. January 26, 2017. Accessed January 7, 2018, https://​mic.com/​articles/​166720/​blm-​ co-​founder-​protesting-​isnt-​about-​who-​can-​be-​the-​most-​radical-​its-​about-​winning#. TTcMbh2oG. Griffin, Rachel Alicia. “I AM an Angry Black Woman: Black Feminist Autoethnography, Voice, and Resistance.” Women’s Studies in Communication 35, no. 2 (January 2012): 138–​157. Hanh, Thich Nhat. True Love: A Practice for Awakening the Heart. Boulder, CO: Shambala, 2011. hooks, bell. All About Love: New Visions. New York: HarperPerennial, 2000. Kaur,Valarie. “What Does Revolutionary Love Look Like?” Middle Project. July 13, 2016. Accessed January 1, 2018. www.youtube.com/​watch?v=kXyql4bA60o. Kaur, Valarie. “3 Lessons on Revolutionary Love in a Time of Rage.” TEDWomen. February 2017. Accessed October 4, 2019. www.ted.com/​talks/​valarie_​kaur_​3_​ lessons_​of_​revolutionary_​love_​in_​a_​time_​of_​rage?language=en. King, Ruth. Healing Rage: Women Making Inner Peace Possible. New  York: Gotham Books, 2007. Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches by Audre Lorde. Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press, 2007. Manuel, Zenju Earthlyn. “Stillness and Sanctuary While Embracing Anger’s Fire.” U Mad? Wisdom for Rageful Times. Buddhist Peace Fellowship, with Kate Johnson, Dawn Haney, and Katie Loncke. Online Offering. February 2017. http://​buddhist-​peace-​fellowship. teachable.com/​p/​u-​mad. Owens, Lama Rod. “Love, Liberation, and the Uses of Anger.” U Mad? Wisdom for Rageful Times. Buddhist Peace Fellowship, with Kate Johnson, Dawn Haney, and Katie Loncke. Online Offering. February 2017. http://​buddhist-​peace-​fellowship.teachable.com/​p/​ u-​mad. Safi, Omid. “Justice Is Love, Embodied.” On Being with Krista Tippett. March 24, 2016. Accessed January 1, 2018. https://​onbeing.org/​blog/​justice-​is-​love-​embodied/​. Salzberg, Sharon and Jon Kabat-​Zinn. Loving-​Kindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness. Boulder, CO: Shambala, 2002. Tang, Elizabeth. “‘Resting Bitch Voice’: Honoring My Anger as an Asian American Woman and Rejecting the Fiction of Respectability.” National Women’s Law Center. May 30, 2019. Accessed October 4, 2019. https://​nwlc.org/​blog/​resting-​bitch-​voice-​honoring-​ my-​anger-​as-​an-​asian-​american-​woman-​and-​rejecting-​the-​fiction-​of-​respectability/​. Traister, Rebecca. Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger. New  York: Simon & Schuster, 2018. West, Cornel. “Spiritual Blackout, Imperial Meltdown, Prophetic Fightback.” Askwith Forum, Harvard Graduate School of Education. October 4, 2017. Accessed October 4, 2019. www.facebook.com/​HarvardEducation/​videos/​askwith-​forums-​cornel-​west-​ spiritual-​blackout-​imperial-​mel/​10155248251671387/​.

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152  On Anger and Love Williams, Reverend Angel Kyodo, Lama Rod Owens, with Jasmine Syedullah. Radical Dharma:Talking Race, Love, and Liberation. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2016. Yamada, Mitsuye. “Invisibility Is an Unnatural Disaster: Reflections of an Asian American Woman.” In This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, edited by Cherríe Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa, 30–​35. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 2015. Yang, Larry. “Uniting Anger and Integrity as a Source of Courage.” U Mad? Wisdom for Rageful Times. Buddhist Peace Fellowship, with Kate Johnson, Dawn Haney, and Katie Loncke. Online Offering. February 2017. http://​buddhist-​peace-​fellowship.teachable. com/​p/​u-​mad. Zimmerman, Kristin and Julie Quiroz. “Love with Power: Practicing Transformation for Social Justice.” Movement Strategy Center. Oakland, CA, 2016.

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10  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability

Feminist Burnout and Sustainability Have you ever been caught in a busy schedule of planning events, going to protests, reading article after article about a social issue, and having hard conversations with family and friends, while also working, handling family responsibilities, attending school, surviving your own daily marginalization … and suddenly you find it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning because you feel exhausted all the time? Or maybe it’s a gradual numbing, as you watch members of your community getting killed while the police officer responsible almost always gets acquitted, the news of immigrant toddlers forced into court hearings alone, or increasingly regressive women’s reproductive rights policies, and you begin to wonder why you should even care or try to create change when nothing seems to work? That is burnout, and it is a hazard of being a social justice change agent (Chen and Gorski 2015). Signs of burnout include chronic exhaustion, depression, numbness, irritability, trouble focusing, illness, unchecked grief, and anxiety (Fabello 2014; Khan 2015; Valenti 2013). Often, it comes in a cloud, so we can’t distinguish what we are feeling or find the capacity to mend it. We may compound it by berating ourselves for not doing more.That response, not surprisingly, makes us even more immobilized, until we feel like we are stuck in quicksand. I don’t know of a single feminist who hasn’t struggled with burnout from time to time. So first, let’s normalize it rather than fighting against it. Why wouldn’t we become deeply exhausted and despairing from the constant onslaught of injustice? Since many of us are doing this work while we are also marginalized, burnout is even more likely because a great portion of our energies are spent trying to withstand the daily trauma of oppression, not to mention generations of it that likely have not healed but are carried in the cells of our bodies and that of our communities. This continuous onslaught can deplete our reserves. Moreover, it is devastating when it seems like people do not care about the suffering of our communities. In the face of all this, burnout is a pretty natural response (Lipsky and Burk 2009). One common component of burnout is compassion fatigue, which is exactly what it sounds like. When we witness/​experience pain and injustice for so long, we can become desensitized to it (Carey 2011; Pyles 2018). We may feel as if we have exhausted our well of compassion. The beauty of compassion, though,

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154  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability is that it is a bottomless well—​there is always more when we know how to tap into it. But we need to be on the lookout for the numbness that makes us feel as though we are out of our supply. Sometimes, the armor we use to both survive and witness intense pain and violence can lead to numbing as well. (Compassion fatigue is a very real danger for therapists, social workers, first responders, and other similar kinds of positions.) The first steps in combating burnout are to recognize what it is, when it strikes, and to know that you are not alone in your struggle with it. Lots of people who look like they have it all together are on the edge of burnout. To say that it is normal, though, it not to say that it is a comfortable, healthy, or desired state in which to live. Burnout drains our vital energies, mutes our gifts to the world, and is a downward and self-​fulfilling cycle. Though most social change agents I know struggle with it, it mutes our abilities to create the very transformation we want. And it certainly prevents joy—​which is our birthright. So, what do we do about it? Addressing burnout needs to happen on two fronts: (1) preventing it in the first place by making our work more sustainable; and (2) healing it when it does happen. This chapter will address both.

“Making Movement Work Healing Work” This quote comes from the activist B. Loewe (2012). Loewe is challenging the notion that creating social change has to be fundamentally draining and invites us to make our justice work healing work. This principle is also at the heart of Healing Justice movements, which address systemic change while simultaneously working to heal individuals and communities.That means not waiting until we get “there” to start healing, but to do the healing in the process of creating the world we want to see. How we get there matters, as feminists have taught us. So as we embody the just future we want, we put into place ways of being with one another that are healing, joyful, and life-​giving. In fact, as Prentis Hemphill, teacher, somatics practitioner, movement facilitator, and coach who has worked with Generative Somatics, Black Organizing for Leadership and Dignity, the Movement for Black Lives, and Black Lives Matter notes, many people enter movement organizing not only to create wider change, but also to heal from the pain and trauma of oppression. Often, marginalized groups who have been traumatized by historical and ongoing oppression find safety, dignity, belonging and purpose in their social justice work (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018). Organizing can itself be healing. But it can best access that potential when it addresses a couple of elements: first, we need to acknowledge that people bring their trauma into social justice work. People with unresolved trauma (which is a lot of people, when we are talking about the trauma of oppression), bring that into everything they do, including movement work. Integrating healing into those spaces both lets social change agents become more whole and makes movement work more effective because all the energy that is currently being used to manage trauma can be directed toward justice work (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018).1

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  155 Secondly, healing helps make people whole, and that itself is a radical liberatory act (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018). Accessing wholeness means being in touch with your full self—​the integration of your heart, your mind, your spirit, your physicality, your energies. It means taking up as much space in the world as you need to in ways that affirm you. It means accessing the deep wisdom, creativity, and joy that is your birthright, and being with the deep pain and grief that also comes with this work. It means having hopes and dreams. Everyone deserves to access this wholeness, but most of us have been cut off from it by the oppression in this world. How, then, do we create the world in which we can all embody our wholeness, in all of its rich diversity? Instead of feeding the tendency in social justice circles to overextend and operate in constant urgency mode (which leads to burnout) we can integrate individual and collective care into our movement work so that it becomes more sustainable (Pyles 2018). Here are some tips.This is not an exhaustive list, so I encourage you to add your own insights to this list and to have it easily accessible for those moments when you feel burnout.

Tips for Sustainably Living Your Feminism 1. Pick your battles. Every semester I see students discover feminism, get a fire lit under them, and then show up at every program, event, and protest, while joining every justice-​based student organization. That passion is inspiring, but pretty soon they start missing classes, exuding exhaustion from missed sleep, and moving through the world with a high-​paced, multi-​tasking anxiety. That, in turn, takes a toll on their academic performance, their health, their life, and, inevitably, how effective they can be as social change agents. One way to handle that is to pick your battles. Know that you cannot show up for every issue or engage every micro/​cumulative aggression (sometimes you have to focus on weathering it, not trying to change it). There is a major contradiction in this advice, so I want to acknowledge that here. Saying “pick you battles” seems to contradict the feminist principle that we need to show up for one another—​that if we want people to show up for “our” issues and do their work of unlearning the ways they participate in our marginalization, then we need to show up for the ways we participate in theirs. That all the issues are “our” issues. It also undermines the notion that there is a privilege in being able to walk away from a micro/​cumulative aggression. Some of us don’t get that luxury. This is one of those “yes, and” moments. All of this is true. Radiating our feminism is full of contradictions and we each need to come to some sense of peace around which ones we can live with and which ones we cannot. But here is what I  have learned, through my own experience, through my reading of the profound words of social justice warriors, and through observing hundreds of student leaders over the years.

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156  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability If we show up for every issue for any length of time, (at least until the climate of social change work becomes life-​giving) we will quickly deplete our reservoir of energy and compassion, especially if we are not actively filling that reservoir as we go. That will lead to burnout and compassion fatigue. When we are in that quicksand, we become unskillful at the change work we want to enact, so we do harm when we want to help.We often need to slow down and do less in order to do what we do well. Plus, there is a never-​ending learning curve, so it is virtually impossible to be deeply informed about every single issue. Some of these challenges can be addressed by integrating healing and sustainability into how we do justice work, so that the climate of our work is joyful energizing, and healing. When that isn’t happening, we may need to do some assessment and determine how we can best show up in each moment. In the moment, we may simply not have the capacity to address a micro/​ cumulative aggression. If those of us who are marginalized took on every single micro/​cumulative aggression we experienced, that is all we would be doing (plus our energy would then be spent “educating” others). Sometimes, we simply have enough energy to survive the aggression, and that is enough. There will be other opportunities (unfortunately, we can count on that). When we have more energy to do it skillfully, we can address those. How do we know which battles to pick? I suggest a two-​fold approach, which leads me to tips #2, 3 and 4. 2. Build what you want rather than only resisting what you don’t want. There is, sometimes, a culture of critique in activist circles. While it is deeply important to critique the oppressive status quo, that culture can breed what AnaLouise Keating calls “oppositional politics” (2012). This form—​which I am sure is familiar to most of us reading this book—​positions us in reaction to what we are against. It means we are always critiquing and existing “in resistance to” something. While this is an important step in the process, it also often means we are reactionary. It tends to produce an oppositional energy, which Keating describes as, “[o]‌ur perceptions, politics, and actions are defined through a resistant energy—​a reaction against that which we seek to transform” (2012, 2).

PRACTICE 10.1  Recognizing How Oppositional Energy Manifests Oppositional energy is likely familiar to many of us. Take a moment and reflect on how it shows up for you.Think of a time when you were strongly against something, a time when you found yourself in staunch opposition to something. Recreate that moment. What did it feel like in your body? Was your jaw clenched, your heart racing, your muscles primed to fight? What did it feel like in your heart? What storylines went on in your head (or came out of your mouth)? Become familiar with how and when you embody this form of energy.

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  157 There are times when that kind of energy is both useful and necessary. It can even come with a righteous rush that temporarily feels good. But what happens in your heart and body if you are always in that oppositional place? And, just as importantly, how does it position you in relation to others? Often, this kind of oppositional politics creates a kind of antagonistic relationship with others (and, ultimately, with ourselves and our own embodied energy). While it can be a useful tool, as a constant state of being, I wonder if it will really lead us to wholeness and the more just world we want. It defines us by what we are against and often leads to an either/​or binary thinking that is, ultimately, overly simplistic. What if we instead created change through what Keating calls a “post-​ oppositional consciousness” (Keating 2013)? Such a consciousness, according to Keating, would enable us to sit with messy contradictions, embrace interconnectivity, help us acknowledge connectivity without erasing difference, and enable a more relational way of knowing. It would value the work of the most marginalized and would enable us to listen to each other with a “raw openness” (Keating 2013). Such a consciousness is both more sustainable and life affirming. 3. Take a period of reflection and discern what are the MOST important social justice issues to you. We all know they are ALL important. We all know they are ALL interconnected—​pull one string and the whole web starts to unravel. But if we cannot devote our energies to all of them all the time, which one(s) is/​are the most urgent to you at this time in your life? (Note: this can change as you change; it can also be adapted to current social crises.)

PRACTICE 10.2  Discerning Our Primary Social Justice Commitments Set a timer for two minutes, and list 75 social justice issues that are important to you. Don’t think too much; just write what comes up. When the timer goes off, reflect on your list.You may not have gotten to 75—​that’s OK. The point it to not overthink it but to let the stream of consciousness, “gut” process reveal wisdom and commitment. What were in the top five? (That does not necessarily mean those will be the ones you prioritize, but it is worth noticing which ones were the first to emerge). Which ones, when you read them, stir your inner fire? You might even consider doing this part of the practice: read your list, slowly, into an audio recording on your computer. Then settle into a meditation, focusing on your breath, and listen to the recording. Pay attention to your inner response to the list—​which ones make your heart sing? Which ones stir that inner fire? Sit with your observations for a while, and narrow down the list. Maybe you choose two or three primary issues to which you will direct your energies.These will guide what you read and deeply educate yourself about, how you volunteer your time, where you do the most advocating.

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158  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability You don’t have to completely ignore the rest of the list—​nor should you. It’s just a way to get clear on where the primary sources of your energies will go. We can still stay informed and show up to some degree for the other issues, especially when our community needs us to. But no one can fully and effectively show up for every single issue all the time, so it is both sustainable and insightful for us to discern where our gifts and passions best fit. 4. Assess your energies. Another way to “pick your battles” is more of a moment-​to-​moment practice that draws on our growing mindfulness capacity.The more in-​tune we are with ourselves and our needs, the more we can accurately discern where our energy is at any given moment. Cumulative/​ microaggressions do not always strike when we are at the height of our social justice warrior power. In fact, they seem to have a knack for kicking us when we are down (or perhaps that is just when we feel them the most because our resilience is down). In those moments, we do not necessarily owe it to the world to “fight the good fight” when we can barely put one foot in front of the other. It is sometimes enough to survive the cumulative aggression. I’ll say that again. It is enough to survive the cumulative aggression.That is part of the “good fight.”Taking care of yourself when the world is not is part of the battle. As the great Audre Lorde so famously wrote, “Caring for myself is not self-​indulgence, it is self-​preservation. And that is an act of political warfare” (1988, 131). If you have the energy, by all means, engage it. But it is OK to decide not to engage the moment and to simply have compassion for yourself, to devote your energy to getting through the moment and, ideally, healing from it to some degree. If we are privileged and witness a micro/​cumulative aggression, the criteria for deciding whether to engage it are a bit different. Of course, these moments are painful for anyone committed to social justice but they do not traumatize to the same degree if we are not the target of it. That is when it can be really important for an ally to step up and do the interrupting/​educating. But here, too, it can be helpful to assess the situation with clear discernment. Take a centering breath and check, first, if jumping in would be helpful to anyone from the marginalized group in question who might be present. Sometimes, they want to speak, so allies jumping in actually silences them. Other times, allies speaking up might escalate the situation in ways that heighten their trauma, which, of course, is not the goal. So it is best to assess, as carefully as possible, what the situation demands. Often this is a silent assessment (it is not, generally, helpful for an ally to “ask permission” from the marginalized person who is the target of the oppression, so we have to, in that moment, draw on all our experience and empathic skills to make the best choice we can.) But the other piece of this is to assess our energy levels. I  find that if I  am exhausted, hyper angry, or highly out of balance in any way, then the way I intervene is not as skillful as it could be and sometimes causes more harm. I am not saying that we should wait to engage until the situation is perfect—​it will never be. But I am saying that a clear discernment about where we are (energetically), what the

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  159 situation requires, and whether we have the capacity to skillfully engage, can better serve the vision of a better world than jumping in and inadvertently doing harm. I have learned this the hard way, so don’t beat yourself up if that’s what happens. Use it as a learning moment. Practice self-​reflection about what energetic and situational cues you missed and add it to your toolkit. Remember also that you can address a situation at a different time. You can pull someone aside the next day, when you have more capacity and have thought about it more, and explain why what happened was a cumulative aggression. For me, the baseline in the decision is always: what will be strategically in the service of a more just world? What response honors my own capacity and the needs of the moment? What will be skillful and effective? 5. Pace yourself. Systems of injustice were not created over night, nor will large-​scale social change happen quickly. Though social crises always happen with urgency to them, one of the things we notice when we have been doing this work for a long time is that there will, unfortunately, always be another social crisis. Do what you can, in the now, at a reasonable and healthy pace for yourself, so that you can be in it for the long haul. Because we need you in it for the long haul. 6. MAKE TIME for healing practices. People often think that social justice work means going to protests, lobbying, and so forth. But healing ourselves and our communities when systems of oppression have been trying to break us is the most radical act we can do. Embodying our full strength and capacity, both as individuals and as communities is what will create a more just world, and it is a huge act of resistance.

PRACTICE 10.3  Our Go-​To Healing Practices Journal:What practices heal you? What speaks to your spirit, gives you peace, and makes you feel connected and closer to wholeness? Some ideas might be: yoga, meditation, cooking, dance, ancestral rituals, music, gardening, nature, being in community. List what resonates with your spirit. When you have determined which healing practices resonate with you, build them into your life. Notice if you consider these practices a luxury that you cannot afford. After all, there are bills to pay, family responsibilities, and social justice work. Where is the time for self and community-​care? But, again, we are not at our most skillful at any of those things if we do not take care of ourselves. Moreover, don’t you want to live this life as fully as you can? Don’t you want to access your wholeness? It is your birthright, even if systems of oppression want to deny you it. Even if you have to relearn how to be whole.

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160  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability When I suggest we create time for these practices to heal our spirit, I do not mean we need to devote hours a day. I mean build in a few minutes whenever we can, maybe an hour, to orient our spirit towards wholeness. Better yet, build it in to everything we do, so that it is not just an hour devoted to it here and there, but it is in our very approach to life: in how we ride the bus to work, how we drink our morning coffee, how we relate to ourselves and others. All our other responsibilities will be better served when we do. 7. Create a “healing kit” for yourself. This is best done when you are not already deeply burned out. Your healing kit would be the “go-​to” practices and resources that help you hold yourself with compassion, generate some healing energy, and inspire you to be the person you are. It can include things like a playlist, some of your favorite readings, practices like yoga that heal you, people you trust, a journal that tells the story of other moments you have been burned out and your way out of that stuckness, a list of basic things to do (sleep, eat, etc. … it may sound obvious but when you are deeply burned out, these are some of the things that are really hard to remember to do). 8. Practice self and community care. Self-​care has become a hip word these days. It often means a pedicure, a spa day, or a retreat in some “exotic” locale (I intentionally use the word “exotic” here because those spaces are often racialized in the ways this kind of self-​care is presented) (Mahdawi 2017; Bloom 2015; Love 2018). These initiatives are individualistic, class exclusionary, and do not get at the life-​affirming care I mean here. In activist circles, self-​care sometimes means a “day off ” from social change work and usually comes with some activist guilt. Nor does it address the deep burnout I described in the beginning of this chapter. Yes, and. Self-​care has also been critical for marginalized groups as they survive daily and historical trauma (Harris 2017; Pate 2014). These forms of self-​care are placed within a politicized context that understands positionality and the systems of oppression that produce the need to such care in the first place (hooks 2015; Lakshmi Piepzna-​Samarasinha 2018; Jones 2017). Many activist circles have reframed self-​care into community care (Haney 2012; Ariel 2015).The activist Yashna Padamsee writes, I cannot sit and care for my body without being concerned with what happens to the bodies of my sisters. We are connected … it is our responsibility not as individuals, but as communities to create structures in which self-​care changes to community care. In which we are cared-​for and able to care for others. (2011) The writer and disability justice activist Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-​ Samarasinha writes about the power of reciprocal care webs and the collective access they can create in her book Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice (2018). As we create collective care, we will be building the kind of world we want and better sustaining ourselves and each other in the process.

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  161 9. Make your “movement work healing work.” Healing is not something you do on down time after we do our movement work. We need to rethink how we do social change work so that we live into the world we want. The processes we enact, the way we show up, needs to reflect mindful, embodied feminist principles if we want a different end result. As Prentis Hemphill says in an episode of the Healing Justice podcast, Movement can be such a life-​giving space … How do we actually, in our organizations, center resilience? How do we know that folks are longing for safety, belonging, dignity, purpose … and then have that be a part of the culture we build in our organizations? How do we take time to build relationship with each other? (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018) That kind of movement work won’t be as draining as the more familiar kinds, because the very practice of doing the work will, itself, be healing, community building, and life affirming.

PRACTICE 10.4  Discerning Between Life-​Affirming and Energy-​Depleting Practices Make a list or draw a Venn diagram (two overlapping circles). What parts of your feminism are life-​affirming? Why? What parts deplete you? Why? Is there a way to increase the former and reframe the latter? What is the goal of some of the practices that drain you? Is there another way to achieve that goal, one that is more life affirming? 10. Get creative and remember that small can be transformational. Grace Lee Boggs said “we never know how our small activities will affect others through the invisible fabric of our connectedness. In this exquisitely connected world, it’s never a question of ‘critical mass.’ It’s always about critical connections” (Boggs and Kurashige 2012). Focus on depth, authenticity, and quality of connection more than breadth. I highly encourage everyone to read Adrienne Maree Brown’s brilliant book, Emergent Strategy (2017), which talks about many life-​affirming, local practices for social change that ripple out to create unforeseen effects (seriously: go read it, right now!). When we tap into our life affirming wholeness, we will discover wisdom we hadn’t before imagined.We will notice possibilities for change that do not deplete. Learn to trust that inner wisdom.

Handling Burnout When We Are in Its Throes Hopefully, the more we make our feminism sustainable, the less we will be in the throes of burnout. But that will not happen overnight. In fact, if we are in

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162  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability the middle of burnout as we are reading this, sustainability will seem completely unrealistic. Everything seems out of reach when we are burned out. That is a distortion caused by burnout. So here are some tips for getting unstuck enough that we can practice some of the previous tips. Please add your own practices to the list. I also recommend that you select a few trusted friends and share with them how they can support you when you are burned out. Have this conversation when you are NOT stuck—​you will probably not be able to see your way out of it when you are in its throes, so preparing friends in advance will be proactive.You can do this for them, too, so that it is reciprocal support (part of community care). 1. Next right step. When we are deeply burned out, everything seems overwhelming, and we often become immobilized. So keep it manageable and keep moving forward. Do one thing you need to do, no matter how small. Then the next. Keep the focus (just for now) on the next step, not the big picture. 2. Reach out to your support network.Tell them you need help.This works best if you have intentionally built your feminist support network and if you have told them what you will likely need when you are in places like this. But even if you haven’t, trust the people who care about you to show you some love. 3. Step back from social change work for a brief time.Yes, oppression will continue and yes we need your energies to create a better world. But all that will be so much more effective when you are healthy, whole, and balanced. Continuing to do social change work when you are highly burned out will cause more harm to both you and the movement. Take a break. Trust your community to keep doing the work. 4. Recognize the interconnection of individual resilience and collective organizing. Since many people come to social justice work partly to heal trauma, and since that work helps transform the systemic conditions that produce trauma and oppression, it can be a critical place for healing. Healing Justice movements recognize that and deeply integrate healing and organizing. When that happens, we won’t need to step away from social change work to heal, because individual and collective recharging can happen in mutually reinforcing ways (“Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power” 2018). 5. Take some time to heal yourself.Whatever that might mean and whatever that might take. If you are at a loss (which you may be when you are deeply burned out), get some help. I  highly recommend counseling or politicized somatic work, if it is available and affordable. Remember that feminist burnout comes not just from overextending yourself but also from the deep pain of experiencing and bearing witness to trauma. That does not go away with a manicure or a spa day (the often-​touted model of self-​care model). Sometimes, it does take some professional support to guide us through our deep shadow work. A note about therapy. I  highly recommend you do some research and find someone with a grounding in social justice (or at least a working knowledge/​

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  163 feminist perspective) (Baker 2018). It can help prevent the awful situation of having cumulative/​microaggressions occur during your therapy session (which will be even more painful than usual because you will be making yourself vulnerable in therapy and it will also shatter the trust with the therapist) (Oladipo 2019; Chatterjee 2017). It also prevents you from having to take time that you are paying for to have to explain basic concepts. You can often get a sense from a therapist’s descriptions on their website or in the initial phone consulting conversation that most therapists do (which is usually free). Personally, when I am selecting a therapist, I look for some grounding in mindfulness, Buddhism, somatics, or yoga—​ some form of body-​based healing modality because I know that that works for me. Consider what works for you and seek that out in the therapists (often, this is evident in their descriptions of their work). The more you advocate for what you want and need as you choose a therapist, the more effective the relationship will be. I realize that there are a couple of major mitigating factors to seeking out therapy (Powell 2017). One is the cultural assumption that certain groups don’t do therapy (Tanap 2019; Allen 2018). Another is a cultural distrust of professionals because of historical misuse of power (Buque 2017). These issues may prove to be obstacles as you think about working with a therapist. Know that all different kinds of people go to therapy, and that you can seek out a therapist who has a similar identity to yours or that specializes in working with particular issues or communities (and so may have a better understanding of what you deal with on a daily basis). If you find a stigma about therapy in your community, be selective about who you tell. Not everyone needs to know your entire story. When people judge what you are trying to do to heal yourself (especially when you are deeply burned out and can barely get yourself to therapy in the first place) it is not at all helpful. So protect your story and honor your process. Another major obstacle is price. Therapy is often expensive, especially if one doesn’t have health insurance. But there are options there, too. Many communities have places with sliding-​scale fees or community clinics where therapists work for lower fees. You can think about a trade, in which you offer something you are skilled at in exchange for counseling. If you are a college student, most campuses have counseling centers where the fees are mostly or entirely covered by your tuition. If you live in an area where there are few options, don’t be afraid to look online and find someone that meets your needs and is affordable, then contact them and see if they do video sessions. These days, that is very common. Get resourceful and creative and you may be able to find something that works for you. 6. Turn to your “healing kit,” that toolkit that you have created to hold yourself in tough times. That kit is your larger, wiser self nurturing your hurt self with compassion and kindness. Both the resources in the kit and the knowledge that you do have a wiser self that is larger than this burnout moment can be healing. 7. Ramp up the daily rituals. Often, when we get really busy and burned out, our daily rituals go by the wayside. We think we don’t have time for

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164  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability them. And yet that is precisely when we need them the most. So make more time—​even if it is 15 minutes—​for yoga, walking your dog, reading Audre Lorde’s words, writing poetry, engaging in ancestral rituals, praying, meditating, spending time in Nature—​whatever it is that helps ground you in a rhythm of self and community love. 8. Turn to mentors for advice. If we have cultivated strong mentors, it can be helpful to talk with them about what you are feeling. Especially if they are also feminist social change agents, they will likely have stories of their own burnout and some tips for how they got out of it. Sometimes just knowing that you are not alone can help a great deal and offer some perspective. 9. Know that this, too, will pass. Though we often feel hopeless and like we are drowning in burnout, like all things, it will pass. Try to cultivate some trust in the process and that larger Witness perspective—​even if it is just a whisper—​and let go a little. (Remember, the Witness is that wiser, larger part of yourself that can offer some perspective.) Fighting the process may just get you deeper in the quicksand. The more you befriend your own process, the more you might be able to let go just a bit and ride out that process, even when it is uncomfortable. I know, easier said than done. Every cell in your body might fight that letting go. Practices like yoga, mediation, or other embodied practices can help cultivate both the ability to let go and the larger Witness that helps you feel your experience but not drown in it. The more you go through these moments, the more you will learn the signs, become familiar with how you tend to navigate that process, and know that you will come out on the other side. 1 0. Remind yourself that it is OK to do what you need to do to get yourself to that other side.

PRACTICE 10.5  Shifting What and How We Practice To that end: take an inventory of what you do in a week. What are the daily tasks in which you spend your time? What are your various commitments, obligations, etc.? List everything. Then take a look at it. What absolutely needs to be there? (Things like your job, family responsibilities, sleep.) What feeds and inspires you? (Maybe time you spend painting or volunteering.) What, at the moment, is adding stress and perpetuating your burnout? Look at the last category. Can you step away from that for a time? It doesn’t have to be a permanent split, just a sabbatical. Even if it is a social justice issue to which you are deeply committed, if it is adding to your burnout, are you really helping the cause at the moment? Is it possible for you to set a time frame to step back: a month, maybe? Remember, social change requires a collective, so if you step back, others will be there to keep the cause moving. And there may be a time when someone else needs to step back and you can step up and keep it moving. That’s the reciprocal nature of communities of care.

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  165 If you make a decision to step back, fill that open space with nourishing practices, not more “to-​do tasks.” Go to that list you made under sustainability (#5). Consider this an investment in your well-​being, which is a form of resistance. Never underestimate the power of you stepping into your wholeness. If it isn’t possible to step away from it, can you get help with it? What would need to change for it to be less stressful? Can you shift how you relate to it? 11. Do something kind for someone else. Maybe it’s cooking some nourishing food for an ill neighbor. Maybe it’s offering childcare to someone who needs it for an afternoon. It doesn’t have to be big, just kind (and done out of a sense of love not obligation). Often, when we feel we cannot give to ourselves, we can still give to someone else. Just getting that kindness flowing can create some movement. (Note: make sure that giving this kindness does indeed feel nourishing. For those of us acculturated to be caretakers, sometimes this work drains rather than feeds.) 12. Practice receiving. This one is often harder than the last one. If we are immersed in social justice work, we are probably used to being in service. (This is also often gendered.) It can be much harder to let ourselves receive care than to offer it. But there is something so profoundly nourishing when we can let ourselves receive kindness from others (and remember, sometimes that, too, is a service; sometimes it helps them to give the kindness as much as it helps us to receive). The more we create communities of care, the more reciprocal that relationship will become. 13. Add other things to this list. I am certain I have not included all the tips that will be useful to you. I encourage you to get together for dinner with a group of close friends and allies and make a collective list of things you will need or things you can do in times of burnout.The collective process will not only generate more ideas, it will help inform you all of what you each might want or need when you are stuck, so that you can become more effective communities of care.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action Liya is the president of a campus organization focused on addressing the impact of HIV/​AIDS in Africa. She’s been in the organization for years, so she is excited to serve in this leadership capacity. Unfortunately, though, many of the other leaders have graduated, leaving a vacuum, and for some reason, people aren’t attending the meetings this year. That happens in campus organizations, she has been told: momentum ebbs and flows. That would be OK except their major annual fundraiser is next month and she is doing practically everything to make it happen: arranging all the logistics, the entertainment, the food, promoting the event (including tabling every day in the

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166  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability student center two weeks before) and all the other details required to make such a big event happen. Fortunately, her best friend is the vice president of the organization and is helping a great deal. But still, there are only two of them. On top of all that, it’s midterms, so she has tests in every class over the next two weeks (WHY do professors do that?). She tries to study at her overnight job, but it’s been really busy, and when she gets home, she needs to sleep. She wants to take time off until midterms and the event are over, but she can barely pay rent as it is. She also can’t really focus. Her father has just been deported and she is devastated. She doesn’t know when she’ll see him again. She’s been going to rallies protesting Trump’s immigration policies because it helps her to feel like she is doing something. But she is exhausted and getting sick. Plus, as one of the oldest kids in her family, she has to step in now and support the younger ones, now that her dad is no longer there. She’ll probably take on extra shifts to send money home and to earn gas money so she can drive the hour home and spend more time with them. She has been on the phone a lot with her family in the last month. She sits down to rest for a minute and starts scrolling Facebook. F*@!. Another young Black man has been killed by the police, this time in the metro area about an hour away from where she goes to school (and close to where her family lives). That could have been her brother. She is immediately texting with her BLM activist friends about arranging a protest and a sit in at the police station. Her adrenaline is up, but if she were to pause for a minute (like she has the time to do that), she would notice the grief, the fatigue, the anxiety, the bone-​deep exhaustion, and the hopelessness swirling just beneath the surface. A couple of her friends come by and they all talk about the recent shooting and the upcoming campus fundraiser. A few more friends come by from some of her Gender & Women’s Studies classes. They vent for a while about all the injustice in the world and how overloaded their plate is. Then someone suggests they brainstorm together about how they can support each other through those stresses. They grab some food, put on some tunes, and start generating. Here are some of the ideas they come up with: • •

• •

An exam-​writing party for their feminist theory essay due next week. They’ll each bring some food and their laptop and they’ll write their essays, asking each other questions when they get stuck. Two of the women love to cook, so they volunteer to cook some food and share it with everyone so they have nutritious food over the next two weeks. They just need help buying the ingredients (and chopping all the onions!). They’ll have a cooking party, then study for their exams together. Someone else is going to the Cities next week, so she volunteers to take Liya, which means she doesn’t need to come up with gas money. They are all leaders in different campus organizations, so they brainstorm how they can co-​sponsor the upcoming fundraiser and so help with funding and spread out the tasks. One of the women is in a Social Work class, and they are always looking for community projects to help with, so she volunteers to bring up the fundraiser to her class and get them to help with it.

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Another student is in an Ethnic Studies class focusing on Black communities. He volunteers to bring the class in on getting a contingent from the university for the upcoming BLM protest. That helps Liya feel like she can step back a bit—​she still wants to go to the protest, but maybe she doesn’t have to do so much organizing. • Two other students have taken on major roles in their families after tragic events with their parents, so they offer support and mentoring for Liya as she mourns the absence of her father and offer advice for the new responsibilities she is taking on. Liya feels the weight on her shoulders lightening over the couple of hours they all hang out and chat. Just knowing she isn’t alone and having people both laugh and cry with her makes a huge difference. She is so moved by how people step in to support her, in both large and small ways, and appreciates that she can do the same for them. Though she still has a ton of things to do, she doesn’t feel quite so burdened and hopeless now. Before they end the evening, they all have a dance party, and she actually feels some joy and creative energy again.

Note 1 I highly recommend listening to the Irresistible podcast, hosted by Kate Warning (formerly known as the Healing Justice Podcast) (https://​irresistible.org/​) (2018). Each episode features a conversation with Healing Justice activists and is paired with a short practice, in which that week’s guest shares a practice that grounds, inspires, and heals them. This is a great way to both deepen your awareness of Healing Justice and build a repertoire of practices to which you can turn when you need them.

References Allen, Maya. “Black Therapists Explain the Stigma of Mental Health in Minority Communities.” The/​Thirty. July 12, 2018. Accessed September 29, 2019. https://​ thethirty.whowhatwear.com/​mental-​health-​in-​minority-​communities. Ariel, Amani. “For the Love of Self: We Need to Insist on Community Care.” Blavity. August 20, 2015. September 28, 2019. https://​blavity.com/​for-​the-​love-​of-​self-​we-​ need-​to-​insist-​on-​community-​care/​?category1=life-​style. Baker, Jeff. “How to Find a Therapist Who Understands Oppression and Intersectionality.” The Establishment. July 30, 2018. Accessed August 10, 2018. https://​theestablishment.co/​ how-​to-​find-​a-​therapist-​who-​understands-​oppression-​and-​intersectionality/​. Bloom, Ester.“How Treat Yourself Became a Capitalist Command.” The Atlantic. November 19, 2015. Accessed September 28, 2019. www.theatlantic.com/​business/​archive/​2015/​ 11/​how-​treat-​yourself-​became-​a-​consumerist-​command/​416664/​. Boggs, Grace Lee with Scott Kurashige. The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism for the Twenty-​First Century. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Buque, Mariel. “Is Psychotherapy for People of Color?” Psychology Today. July 10, 2017. Accessed September 27, 2019. www.psychologytoday.com/​us/​blog/​unpacking-​race/​ 201707/​is-​psychotherapy-​people-​color.

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168  Feminist Burnout and Sustainability Carey, Benedict. “Becoming Compassionately Numb.” The New  York Times. October 21, 2011. Accessed July 6, 2018. www.nytimes.com/​2011/​10/​02/​sunday-​review/​ compassion-​fatigue.html. Chatterjee, Dom. “Mental Health Is Different for People of Color in These Three Ways (and More).” Rest for Resistance. April 29, 2017. Accessed September 29, 2019. https://​ restforresistance.com/​zine/​mental-​health-​is-​different-​for-​people-​of-​color. Chen, Cher Weixia and Paul C. Gorski. “Burnout in Social Justice and Human Rights Activists: Symptoms, Causes, and Implications.” Journal of Human Rights Practice (2015): 1–​ 25. Accessed September 29, 2019. www.edchange.org/​publications/​Activist-​ Burnout-​Chen-​Gorski.pdf. Fabello, Melissa A. “Burnout Prevention and Intervention.” Everyday Feminism. February 7, 2014. Accessed July 6, 2018. https://​everydayfeminism.com/​2014/​02/​burn-​out/​. Haney, Dawn. “Self-​Care Is Not Enough: Learning to Build Communities of Care.” Buddhist Peace Fellowship. October 16, 2012. Accessed September 29, 2019. www. buddhistpeacefellowship.org/​self-​care-​is-​not-​enough-​learning-​to-​build-​communities-​ of-​care/​. Harris, Aisha. “The History of Self Care.” Slate. April 5, 2017. Accessed September 27, 2019. www.slate.com/​articles/​arts/​culturebox/​2017/​04/​the_​history_​of_​self_​care.html. hooks, bell. Sisters of the Yam: Black Women and Self-​Recovery. New York: Routledge, 2015. Jones, Abeni. “Beyond Self-​ Care Bubble Baths: A Vision for Community Care.” Autostraddle. July 20, 2017. Accessed September 27, 2019. www.autostraddle.com/​on-​ being-​a-​burden-​whats-​missing-​from-​the-​conversation-​around-​self-​care-​385525/​. Keating, AnaLouise. Transformation Now! Toward a Post-​ Oppositional Politics of Change. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2013. Khan, Aliya. “Activist Burnout is Real: And You Probably Need to Read These Four Ways to Manage It.” Everyday Feminism. May 27, 2015. Accessed July 6, 2018. https://​ everydayfeminism.com/​2015/​05/​dealing-​with-​activist-​burnout/​. Lipsky, Laura van Dernoot and Connie Burk. Trauma Stewardship: An Everyday Guide to Caring for Self While Caring for Others. San Francisco, CA: Berrett-​Koehler, 2009. Loewe, B. “An End to Self-​Care.” Organizing Upgrade Blog. October 15, 2012. Accessed September 26, 2019. http://​archive.organizingupgrade.com/​index.php/​blogs/​ b-​loewe. Lorde, Audre. Burst of Light: Essays. Ithaca, NY: Firebrand Books, 1988. Love, Shayla. “The Dark Truths behind Our Obsession with Self-​Care.” Vice. December 11, 2018. Accessed September 29, 2019. www.vice.com/​en_​us/​article/​zmdwm4/​ the-​young-​and-​the-​uncared-​for-​v25n4. Mahdawi, Arwa. “Generation Treat Yo’ Self: The Problem with Self-​Care.” The Guardian. January 12, 2017. Accessed September 27, 2019. www.theguardian.com/​lifeandstyle/​ 2017/​jan/​12/​self-​care-​problems-​solange-​knowles. Oladipo, Gloria. “Why I  Need a Woman of Color Therapist.” Teen Vogue. May 17, 2019. Accessed September 29, 2019. www.teenvogue.com/​story/​why-​i-​need-​a-​ woman-​of-​color-​therapist. Padamsee,Yashna. “Communities of Care.” Organizing Upgrade Blog, July 1, 2011. Accessed October 4, 2019. www.organizingupgrade.com/​index.php/​component/​k2/​item/​88-​ yashna-​communities-​of-​care. Pate, SooJin. “The Radical Politics of Self-​Love and Self-​Care.” Feminist Wire. April 30, 2014. Accessed September 28, 2019. https://​thefeministwire.com/​2014/​04/​self-​love-​ and-​self-​care/​. Piepzna-​ Samarasinha, Leah Lakshmi. Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press, 2018.

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Feminist Burnout and Sustainability  169 Powell, Neesha. “5 Ways to End Stigma against Mental Health Care in Communities of Color.” Everyday Feminism. September 14, 2017. Accessed September 28, 2019. https://​ everydayfeminism.com/​2017/​09/​poc-​mental-​health-​stigmas/​. Pyles, Loretta. Healing Justice: Holistic Self-​Care for Change Makers. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Tanap, Ryann. “Why Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders Don’t Go to Therapy.” NAMI: National Alliance on Mental Illness. July 25, 2019. www.nami.org/​Blogs/​NAMI-​Blog/​ July-​2019/​Why-​Asian-​Americans-​and-​Pacific-​Islanders-​Don-​t-​go-​to-​Therapy. “Trauma, Healing, and Collective Power with Generative Somatics,” with Adrienne Maree Brown, Staci K.  Haines, Spenta Kandawalla, and Prentis Hemphill. Healing Justice Podcast with Kate Warning. Episode 34. July 2018. Accessed July 5, 2018. www. healingjustice.org/​. Valenti, Jessica. “Battling Feminist Burnout.” The Nation. March 1, 2013. Accessed July 6, 2018. www.thenation.com/​article/​battling-​feminist-​burnout/​. Warning, Kate with Teresa Pasquale Mateus and Shawna Wakefield. Healing Justice Podcast. Accessed July 5, 2018. www.healingjustice.org/​.

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11  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow

Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow If we have engaged in social justice work, we have probably been discouraged at the seemingly never-​ending cycle of oppression. We have likely had moments or days when we wondered if justice will ever come or if change is even possible. In those moments, it is critical for us to have a well of hope to draw on to keep us going. In fact, we can better bring our creativity to the ongoing challenges of social justice work if we engage in regular practices to sustain our passion, compassion, inspiration, and hope. Because things will get hard and change will be slow.The structures and systems that produce injustice are vast, intractable, adaptable, and stubborn.We can become bogged down by the sheer magnitude of the work that needs to be done. Maybe we have thrown all of our organizing energies into a particular policy and it fails. Maybe there is a confluence of traumatic events in society (as there so often is) and we begin to feel like we just can’t take it. Even if we are looking at individual manifestations of it—​the encounters with our coworker, the treatment at the grocery store, and so on—​the never-​ending nature of these encounters also contributes to this weightiness. Sometimes it feels like we are being battered with hurricane-​force winds and try as we might, we just can’t withstand it enough to keep moving forward.

When Change Is Slow Part of working with that despair is getting very clear on how and when it shows up for us and what kinds of things give us hope. I will talk more about hope later in the chapter. First, I want to offer some ways of thinking about social change when it happens more slowly than we want. Add your insights to this list. 1.  Backlash Is Very Common after Social Gains Learning about the history of various social movements and social advancements can help us recognize that pattern. It can feel like the ground is being pulled out from under us when we watch repeal after repeal of policy advancements. The response is often a sense of

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  171 catastrophe—​and it is, since many people depend on the protections and resources those policies provide. But learning about social movements and history can reveal that this kind of backlash is a common recurrence after significant social change. Time and time again, there are major advancements, only to have conservative elements repeal them. The adage of “one step forward, two steps back” sometimes feels very true. This knowledge can help us be strategic as we resist these threats to progress. We can learn from those who have gone before us about how to combat this backlash and maintain the trajectory of social justice. We can get resourceful about protecting those who are most vulnerable and see if we can secure them protections in other ways.We can put the backlash in perspective: instead of seeing it as the end of the world, we can understand is as a very intractable and adaptable system absorbing change, so that we then need to create new change. If we approach it as predictable rather than shocking, we can be better prepared to meet its challenges. We create ripples of change, which then get absorbed by power, so that we need to make more change. I think of it like throwing a rock in a lake. When the rock hits the water, the waves ripple out, shifting and moving the water. Eventually, the water comes to stillness again, absorbing the rock. But water has still been displaced and now there is a rock at the bottom. Change has happened, even if power ultimately absorbs it. We then need to throw another stone into the water; we create ongoing ripples of change.We can also simultaneously be building more liberatory systems. 2.  Celebrate All Victories, No Matter How Small The lake and rock metaphor leads me to the second principle for maintaining hope when change is slow: we need to acknowledge and celebrate every bit of progress we make, no matter how “small.” The big victories may be few and far between and the setbacks regular, so we need to recognize the progress that we do make. Even this talk of “big” and “small” advancements is misleading, because, as the rock metaphor suggests, the seemingly small changes add up to the big ones. Big social change doesn’t come out of nowhere—​it emerges from a series of local acts (Boggs and Kurashige 2012; Brown 2017). Maybe instead of “small,” we can think of these changes as deep; Brown writes, Many of us have been socialized to understand that constant growth, violent competition, and critical mass are the ways to create change. But emergence shows us that adaptation and evolution depend more upon critical, deep, and authentic connections, a thread that can be tugged for support and resilience. (Brown 2017, 14) Celebrating those local successes and building connections can go a long way towards feeding hope and resisting despair.

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172  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow 3. Think Local AND Have a Long Game So while the systems that produce injustice are vast, local changes are how we chip away at them. Directing our energies toward those points of connection we can make and how we can move toward justice through those connections can go a long way. As Brown suggests, “Move at the speed of trust. Focus on critical connections more than critical mass—​build the resilience by building the relationships” (Brown 2017, 42). Simultaneously, we need to recognize that achieving justice is a long game—​ most likely, it will not completely happen in our lifetimes—​ not for every marginalized group, and not in every way. The journalist Rebecca Solnit writes, “It is always too soon to go home. Most of the great victories continue to unfold, unfinished in the sense that they are not yet fully realized, but also in the sense that they continue to spread influence” (Solnit 2016, 63).We need to keep the big picture in mind and keep our sights on our vision of justice, while doing everything in our power to create local, deep, ripples of change that collectively move us toward that goal. As a teacher, this is something I have had to learn. I do not always see the fruits of my teachings develop, because often that happens after the semester ends. I think of it as planting seeds, and I trust that many of them will blossom later, even if I don’t see it happen. The guidance about not being attached to the fruits of our actions might be helpful in this process. It suggests that we need to act according to our principles and values but that we cannot/​should not have expectations that our actions will produce particular results. As someone committed to social justice, I experience tension around this teaching. I  understand it—​and even agree with it—​in the abstract, but I am not willing to relinquish my fierce commitment to a just result. I have learned to hold these two “truths” in dynamic tension with one another. We can still work toward a particular vision of justice, while being aware that even if the immediate outcome is not what we want, the action toward a better world is still important. I have made my peace with this tension by thinking about the process as planting seeds: I put my best efforts toward justice into the world, and I  trust that it will manifest someday. I may not be happy if it fails to manifest in the way or the time frame I might want (in which case I have learned to practice all the other steps I discuss in this chapter), but I also try to maintain a larger faith that the moral arc of the universe does, indeed, bend toward justice. That faith lets me believe that those energies will blossom in ways I can’t always know or imagine. 4.  Find a Way to Do Work That Is Joyful and Healing There is no way around it: oppression is painful. Remaining informed and aware of how oppression works and how it affects people is to be constantly raw. We experience the trauma of oppression, either as direct targets of it or in secondary ways. In order to be able to bear witness to all of that—​in others and in ourselves—​ we need to cultivate not only resilience but also some healing joy. In fact, I would argue the two are interdependent. Forging radically joyful ways of being in the

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  173 world is ultimately going to take us to new places instead of keeping us in the same harmful social ruts. Sometimes that means carving out moments of joy. Sometimes it means finding ways to laugh in the face of deep pain. Sometimes it means creating something beautiful. Sometimes it means devoting yourself to work that is fundamentally healing and joyful for you. Sometimes it means reclaiming pleasure as an act of resistance and liberation, remembering that there is a “connection between tuning into what brings aliveness into our systems and being able to access personal, relational, and communal power” (Brown 2019, 6). When I first found feminism, I felt I needed to bear witness to every pain, so I watched every painful movie, tried to participate in as many events and issues I could, and I felt that fun was a betrayal of the reality of oppression. But over the years, other amazing social change agents have taught me that the two do not need to be mutually exclusive—​and, in fact, the former is not really sustainable without the latter. I think here of the Frederick Buechner quote, “Find the place where your deep hunger meets the world’s need” (qtd. in Martin 2010, xx).When we find the place where we can best contribute our unique gifts, we will also find some joy in that. Dr. Brittney Cooper, author of Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower, writes, Joy … is different than happiness, because happiness is predicated on “happenings,” on what’s occurring, on whether all is well. Joy arises from an internal clarity about our purpose. My purpose is justice. And the fight for justice brings me joy. (2018, 274) We are not all suited to every kind of social change work. But when we find our niche, we will find some healing and joy in that work, even when it is hard at times. If, over a period of time, we find that the joy and growth that we get out of a particular kind of work is no longer there for us, then it may be worth evaluating whether it is time to move on to another kind of work. We may find that we need a break from it if we can’t give our best self to that work. How can we devote our energies to social change work that is healing and joyful for ourselves, for the communities most affected by that form of oppression, and to the world as a whole? 5.  Learn about the Amazing Work Being Done in the World Make sure we are learning about the amazing, creative, change efforts as much as we are learning about the painful effects of oppression. In other words, don’t just spend our energies studying the statistics of sex trafficking and sexual assault, or the long-​term consequences of environmental toxins. Also learn about all the inspiring, creative, community-​based change efforts that are happening around the world.Those positive changes are EVERYWHERE and they are deeply inspiring. Make sure we feed ourselves with that medicine as well. It will motivate us to keep going and inspire creative new ideas.

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174  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow 6.  Find Hope, Strength, and Solace in Those Who Have Come before Us We are not on this path to justice alone, nor are we the first. Many, many wise people have come before us, whether they are our direct ancestors or inspiring social leaders of our past. Connect with them daily. Read their wisdom. Learn from them. Know that we do not have to recreate the wheel. We just need to take our place in a long line of beings who are with us on this journey toward justice. Find some way to cultivate our connection with those companions on a regular basis, so that we feel less alone. Writer Linda Hogan (Chickasaw) offers this reminder: “Walking. I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen.You are the result of the love of thousands” (2007, 159). 7.  Support Those Who Will Come after  Us Another way of finding resilience in the face of sluggish social progress is to mentor future change agents. As a GWS professor, this is a major source of hope for me.Though I teach daily about the pain of oppression and it can be heavy and heartbreaking, it is tempered by the fierce hope and energy I see in the college students who find their feminist voices. Each day, I work with burgeoning leaders. It is a gift to support them as they cultivate their voice and find the tools that will help them on their journey.The hope that that gives me is invaluable and bottomless. If this is missing in your life, where can you find it? How can you mentor the next generation of leaders? This can be an incredible way to enable legacies of change and refill that well of hope.

Be Gentle with Our Despair In an earlier chapter, I  talked about the usefulness of anger. When we don’t channel our anger, it can too easily morph into an immobilizing rage and despair. Sometimes anger and despair go hand in hand; other times, anger is the only thing that seems to keep us from deep despair—​the kind of despair that makes it hard to get out of bed. The kind that makes us throw up our hands and wonder why we bother marching when the system has just shown us—​again—​that certain lives and certain voices do not matter. At a certain point, anger can just fizzle into despair and hopelessness. On those days when the pain is really raw, when it feels like we can’t get up again, we need to have ways to be with our tenderness. That, too, is part of the journey. The pit of despair in understandable, but it does not honor our power, our authenticity, or our true gifts that the world needs. Those qualities will simply stagnate in that pit of despair.We will end up participating in the system that wants us to remain small and keep us voiceless. Those who have been snuffed out way too early by the system need us to do more. We need us to do more.We need each other to honor our own power and voice even when the system won’t. One way to handle this despair is to develop a “resilience support kit” for those moments when it consumes you. The goal for these resources is to hold yourself gently in those moments, contain the amount of damage that state of despair does,

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  175 help us reach out for support, and, ideally to heal a little bit. These are not quick fixes and they certainly won’t solve the large-​scale problems. The goal here is to have some useful resources to help move you out of despair into a state in which you can be more proactive. Be aware that this may take some time. The other trick to know is that you need to develop these resources when you are feeling relatively good. Most people do NOT have the capacity to think of resources when they are in the depths of despair. (Like an emergency winter kit you put in the back of your car in case you get stuck in a blizzard; you need to have put it together and ready before the snowstorm.) Here are just a few ideas, but it’s best if you develop your own list of resources that will work for you. I suggest getting together with a group of your closest friends and developing a collective toolkit, both so that you can pool your creativity, and so that you each know what the other might want or need when you are called on to support each other.

Resilience Support Kit to Heal Despair 1 . Be kind to yourself. Send yourself love. 2. If that seems impossible, be kind to someone else. Send someone else love. 3. Read the words of a feminist who inspires you. 4. Listen to music that heals. 5. Create art. Garden. Cook. Grow something. 6. Call a friend. Just Be. 7. Practice yoga or meditation. Focus on a loving-​ kindness or compassion practice. 8. Volunteer at a community organization. Do something tangible—​no matter how small—​to create positive change. 9. Read poetry. Write poetry. Dance. 10. Spend time in nature. 11. Remember that the world needs you.YOU. As you are. In whatever wholeness you can muster. 12. Reach out to a therapist or other professional support person. 13. Add five of your own suggestions to this list.

Speaking of Hope Part of healing from despair is cultivating hope. Hope is an essential part of social justice. But what is it? Journalist Rebecca Solnit, in her book Hope in the Dark, writes that It’s important to say what hope is not: it is not the belief that everything was, is, or will be fine … The hope I am interested in is about broad perspectives with specific possibilities, ones that invite or demand that we act … You could call it an account of complexities and uncertainties, with openings. (Solnit 2016, xiii–​xiv)

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176  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow The role of uncertainty in hope is intriguing. It suggests that we cannot know for sure what will happen. It also means that even overwhelming injustice will inevitably change. While we cannot know the outcome, that very uncertainty offers possibility. Solnit goes on to write: Hope locates itself in the premises that we don’t know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty there is room to act. When you recognize uncertainty, you recognize that you may be able to influence the outcomes … Hope is an embrace of the unknown and the unknowable, an alternative to the certainty of both optimists and pessimists … It’s the belief that what we do matters even though how and when it may matter, who and what it may impact, are not things we can know beforehand. (Solnit 2016, xiv) The kind of hope I am talking about, then, is not a naive hope or one that takes the place of action. It is a faith in the value of our commitment and action, even if the initial results are not what we want. Hope cannot take the place of action—​it is the inspiration for action. In fact, according to Solnit, “Hope and action feed each other” (2016, 11).This kind of hope requires a clear and honest discernment of the current conditions of our world. It does not sugarcoat reality, but it does remain convinced that a better world is possible. “Authentic hope requires clarity—​ seeing the troubles in this world—​and imagination, seeing what might lie beyond these situations that are perhaps not inevitable and immutable” (Solnit 2016, 20). Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone talk about “active hope,” which is a practice of (1) accepting reality as it is; (2) getting clear on what we want for the world, what our vision of justice is; and (3) taking tangible steps to create that world. This kind of hope can exist even in situations that seem utterly discouraging, because it is a state of “doing” (Macy and Johnstone 2012, 3). This ability to believe that a better world is possible is what motivates me to continue despite the pain and despair I sometimes feel at the state of this world. This kind of hope may not know exactly how to get to justice, or what a creative, empowering way of being fully looks and feels like, but it remains convinced that we can get there someday. Solnit quotes Vaclav Havel talking about the kind of hope that inspires us to act in the face of uncertainty; he writes that hope: is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but, rather, an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. (qtd. in Solnit 2016, 8) I love that this kind of hope is a deep state of being, because that informs how I do the work even when the outcome is not certain. In fact, it helps me remain in the work that emerges from my commitment to a better world.

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  177 One thing that inspires me is the hope I  see in many contemporary social movements. Black Lives Matter is a great example of that. In the face of constant violence against Black communities, BLM celebrates Black life, leadership, and love (Garza, Cullors, and Tometi 2016). Patrisse Cullors says that a movement needs to “[p]‌rovide hope and inspiration for collective action to build collective power to achieve collective transformation, rooted in grief and rage, but pointed toward vision and dreams” (qtd. in Solnit 2016, xiv). This kind of hope, then, does not erase suffering and despair, but instead allows an outlet that transforms those responses into meaningful action that can help heal them.

Filling Your Well In order to maintain this hope—​or even cultivate it in the first place—​we need to actively fill our well. The onslaught of oppression and the glacial pace of large-​ scale social change can breed despair. Our well is our antidote to that despair. It provides the nutrients that feed our hope. As Macy and Johnstone write, At the core of our consciousness is a wellspring of caring and compassion; this aspect of ourselves—​which we might think of as our connected self—​can be nurtured and developed. We can deepen our sense of belonging in the world. Like trees extending their root system, we can grow into connection, thus allowing ourselves to draw from a deeper pool of strength, accessing the courage and intelligence we so greatly need right now. (2012, 31) Getting really clear on what motivates us to work toward justice is an important first step. Our intention is our driving force, and it will keep us in the conversation even when things get hard. Let me clarify what I do and do not mean by intention.The way I often hear the word “intention” is after someone from a dominant group has committed a cumulative/​microaggression. They often say “I didn’t intend that.” While that may be true, it doesn’t lessen the harmful impact of the aggression. In this situation, the intent does not negate the impact. What I mean when I say intention here is a bit different. It refers to the inner drive that propels us toward a more just world. This intention would invite the person committing the aggression to forgo denial or defensiveness, become humble, and listen and learn. When we align with our intention to do justice work, we have the motivation to stay in the sticky situations, take accountability, and do the hard work of unlearning the ways in which we, even inadvertently, participate in systems of oppression. Getting really clear on our intentions also helps us stay on the path. We can easily get sidetracked, seduced into either/​or thinking, righteousness, or apathy. Like an amusement park “fun house,” these are the illusions that will actually prevent justice work. So continually reaffirming our intentions can create signposts that keep us on our path. They can then remind us how we want to show up for this work.

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PRACTICE 11.1  Reminder of What Motivates You to Work for Justice Ask yourself these questions: What motivates you to work for a better world? Where does that inner drive come from? What intentions bring you to this work? Ponder those questions and journal about them until you get some clarity on the source of that energy you bring to justice work. Distill that clarity into a sentence or two, and put it somewhere you will see it everyday. Maybe even repeat it to yourself three times before you get out of bed or whenever the world gets challenging, so it becomes a practice that grounds you in your intention. Regularly reciting this intention can both reinforce what really matters to you and motivate you to more proactively build those things into your life. The world WILL get challenging. Perhaps it always is.Your certainty in the importance and nature of the work (or perhaps merely the certainty that you can make a difference) will probably waiver. That, too, is an inevitable part of the process. And in those moments, you will need something to turn to that can reaffirm your path toward justice. Because injustice wins if we give in to our despair.Though the despair is a natural human response to the constant barrage of oppression, though we would be inhuman superheroes if it didn’t sometimes bring us to our knees, the system wins if we stay there. In those moments, we can learn to meet ourselves with tenderness, hold ourselves with the love that oppression denies us, and reach deep into the force of energy that pulsates within the universe and within us (since we are part of that universe)—​to keep going. In those moments of falling apart, we have the opportunity to heal and to tap into a deeper wisdom that is only available when we are at that edge. I do not mean to glorify that despair—​there is nothing utopic or sentimental about it—​ but I do believe that if things have to suck, we might as well find a way to grow through it. We can turn it into something that builds our resilience rather than something that crushes us, But for that to work, we have to have a deep well of strength and a reservoir of faith to draw on (Macy and Brown 2014). Filling our well means we need to nourish our source of resilience and faith for a better world. This is the reservoir of nutrients that will fuel us when we are stuck, the deep wisdom that tells us we can indeed survive, and that we do not have to settle for mere survival. It offers us glimpses of the path toward thriving in all the human dignity and wholeness we deserve. They may only be hints of that wholeness, but they are enough of a promise to keep us going.

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  179 We need nutrition on this path, resources that can fuel our journey.That is what our well is—​the reservoir of strength, wisdom, compassion, energy, and guidance that we can draw on when we feel ourselves wavering. The well will sustain us when we feel shaky, let us dig deep when things are hard, and offer wisdom when we feel lost.

PRACTICE 11.2  Filling Your Well What will be in your well will depend on who you are and what inspires you. Here are some possible sources of deep inspiration: Your ancestors and the history of your people Profound writings by social justice leaders Art Music Your loved ones Nature Your faith and spiritual tradition Yoga, mediation, or other healing practice Rituals Community (and who is in this community?) Add your own … Journal for a few minutes, exploring what you find deeply inspirational. What/​who do you turn to when you feel stuck? Whose words, music, art helps you imagine new possibilities? Who/​what helps you hold your hurt with deep compassion? What rituals or practices help ground you back in that feeling of centering and interconnectedness? Once you have a sense of what you intuitively turn to when you are stuck, build a set of resources that are ready for when you need it. Maybe it’s a playlist or a ritual or a support group or your yoga mat. Be open, also, for what calls to your spirit—​that soft whisper that calls to your soul like a loon calls to its mate, or the way your spirit turns towards something like a sunflower follows the sun. Oddly enough, as I am typing these words, I hear my favorite bird song: the morning dove, whose song brings me a deep peace.Though I love this sound, I rarely it hear around my home, so the fact that I hear it as I am typing these words is a gift. The universe works in mysterious ways, and sometimes, when we put a request out into the universe, it responds with gifts if we know how to hear them. Those are the things that can feed our soul, but we have to learn to listen for them. They are often drowned out by our over-​stimulated, over-​busy culture. But in that skill of listening for the soft healing melodies is also the wisdom of a path toward justice. Create the space by slowing down, befriend

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180  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow yourself through regular practice of some kind (yoga, walks in nature, meditation, art), so that when that whisper calls, you can hear it.

A Word about the Spiritual Some leftist circles are deeply skeptical, even cynical, about spiritual traditions. This suspicion is well-​earned, if we are talking about organized religion, since many organized religions of the world have, at one time or another throughout history, been used to justify violence. Many religious institutions have also been sites that perpetuate oppression against different marginalized groups. Yes, and. It’s also true that for many marginalized communities, spiritual traditions have been fundamental to who they are, to their survival and resilience, and to their political resistance. Think about Black church, Indigenous decolonization movements, Buddhist resistance to war, Muslim social activists, Jewish communities, and so on. For many people, particularly marginalized groups, their spiritual traditions are a critical part of their community, so a blanket critique of religion or faith erases this connection and history. There is also a difference between organized religion and a personal and/or collective faith or spirituality. Spirituality is the sense that there is some organizing force in the universe that is larger than us as individuals; it is a personal practice and tradition that supports a person and even a community through both good and hard times. It offers solace when one can’t find answers; ideally, it also offers wisdom in the face of unanswerable questions (Zimmerman et al. 2010). For the sake of clarity, I will use the term spirituality here to refer to a deep faith in something larger than ourselves and in the possibility for justice, even when we don’t know how to get there. It can help enhance interconnectedness and deepen meaning (Pyles 2018). It can help fill our well, and it can offer us guidance on how to “be the change.” I am not saying we all need to have some sort of spirituality to be a social change agent, merely that many of us do. After all, we already believe in something larger than ourselves if we are working toward justice. We have already taken a leap of faith that a better world is possible even when there is a great deal of uncertainty about how to get there. Feminism, as both a worldview and a practice, also offers principles for how to work toward that world. So, in some ways it functions similarly to some spiritualities. In fact, there can be deep possibility in “reclaiming the sacred” in social transformation work (Fernandes 2003). While we don’t have to have a spiritual practice, I  do think we can learn something from the call that so many powerful spiritual and activist leaders have expressed. Many social justice activists are bridging ways to heal and work towards social justice from a place of compassion and wisdom. (See the resources on my website for some of these organizations.) Solnit speaks to the difference between hope and faith: “hope … can be based on the evidence, on the track record of what might be possible … but faith endures even when there is no way to imagine winning in the foreseeable future, faith is more mystical” (Solnit 2016, 64).

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  181

Practicing Rituals of Interconnection and Wisdom One way to cultivate this hope and faith is to enact rituals that help you connect to the deeper wisdom of the world. Rituals are practices in which we intentionally engage with deep attention and purpose (Horwitz 2002). They are different from habit because of the reverence and attention that infuse them. Many of us have the habit, for instance, of brushing our teeth in the morning, but we may do it automatically while we think about other things. Typically, brushing our teeth doesn’t have a deeper meaning in our life (beyond keeping our teeth clean). Rituals, on the other hand, require our full attention and take on larger, even sacred meaning. Sacredness doesn’t necessarily mean being connected to religious meaning, though it could be; it can mean giving something our deep attention and seeing it as part of our interconnection in the world (Santos n.d.). Rituals can be individual or communal. They can mark times of year (like a solstice ritual or Día de los Muertos/​Day of the Dead), or times of life (such as a coming of age ritual). They can be connected to ancestral and cultural traditions, or they can be created to fulfill individual needs. Some cultures engage ceremony as sacred rituals; if we are a part of those cultures, then participating in ceremony can be deeply sustaining and help us connect to community, culture, and ancestors. As Sherri Mitchell, Weh’na Ha’mu’Kwasset (Penawahpskek, the Penobscot Nation) notes in her book, Sacred Instructions: Indigenous Wisdom for Living Spirit-​Based Change, When we connect with our ancestors and put their wisdom into action, we are evolving our collective consciousness. We are transporting the ancient truths of our collective past and birthing them into our future.What we create out of those truths extends the wisdom of all who have gone before us, and it provides a guide for all those who will follow. (2018, 13) When marginalized groups reclaim their culture’s traditions, rituals, and ceremonies, there can be deep healing in that. If we are not a part of those cultures, we want to avoid culturally appropriating ceremony, which perpetuates colonial harm. But there are other, non-​appropriative, types of rituals we can practice that can nourish and ground. For something to be a ritual, typically it is (1) done regularly, often at the same time of day, month, year, or life; and (2) engaged mindfully, with our full attention (Horwitz 2002). Any preparation for a ritual is a significant part of the process (for instance, if we have to gather supplies or lay out materials, that is done with reverence). In addition, we attune to whatever arises experientially. Rituals are not just about thoughts or analysis; they are about embodied, emotional, and spiritual experience that can lead us to insight. Whatever arises in a ritual offers meaning. Rituals are about connecting us to the larger energy of the universe and our deeper individual and collective wisdom. It’s this deeper wisdom and shift

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182  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow of consciousness that gives practices a ritual component that can help cultivate our hope. We can so easily get subsumed in day-​to-​day responsibilities and lose perspective in the moment-​to-​moment work of social justice. Rituals can help realign us with our values and shift our perspective into that larger and longer-​ view vision. They can reconnect us with our purpose, the deeper wisdom within us, and the interdependence of all beings (including the natural world). They can help us connect to tradition, community, and deeper meaning in life (Gaia Staff 2017). As such, they can reinvigorate the presence and energy we bring to our lives and work while making sure we remain aligned with our higher, wiser vision. Rituals can be practices we create in community or as solitary activities. Here are some examples: •

A ritual to open a meeting and ground everyone, such as a centering practice or a short meditation. • A ritual to close a meeting and shape how we bring the commitments into our lives outside the meeting, such as a song or a declaration of a commitment. • A morning ritual to start our day, such as a short walk, pulling a tarot card, a yoga practice, or journaling. • A ritual to end our day, such as a gratitude practice, journaling, a meditation. • A ritual to cleanse ourselves and reset our energy after a particularly challenging conversation or a high-​energy event, such as a walk or a practice to cleanse or “shake off ” energy. • A ritual to ground ourselves and align our commitments—​individually and/​ or as a group—​before a protest or an action, such as song, a grounding, a declaration of purpose, a calling out of names for whom the action is done. There are many other reasons for rituals and practices that can become rituals. I invite you to reflect on where you might want or need a ritual in your life and what practice might help you connect with larger meaning and wisdom. Then try practicing it consistently for 30 days (if it is a daily ritual) and see what insights arise. Even the days when you don’t want to do it or it doesn’t seem to feed you offers you key information. For instance, I  practice centering and grounding several times during the day, using variations of the practices from earlier in this book. That helps me remain aligned with my intention during a busy day. I also practice longer rituals each day to strengthen my relationship with deeper meaning. Sometimes it’s a yoga practice and a longer meditation, sometimes it’s a walk by my favorite lake, where I greet the trees that I have gotten to know on my walks and spend some time contemplating the beauty of sunlight on the water.Watching the ripples of water flow calms my busy mind and soothes my heart. I also often pull a tarot card. Even on the days when I am unsettled by the card I pull or I don’t seem to find insight, I know that the power of ritual is there. What are some regular rituals that would help you? They do not have to be long, complex, or pricey. In fact, the simpler, the better.What do you need in your

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Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow  183 life? What helps you feel connected, hopeful, cared for, or inspired? How can you enhance that with a daily short practice?

PRACTICE 11.3  Creating a Daily Ritual Create a daily ritual that grounds you and connects you to larger wisdom or inspiration—​whatever that means to you. Something that reminds you that you are part of universal energy and that your gifts matter. That your efforts toward justice will manifest, someday. The ritual doesn’t have to take long or be complicated. It’s the regular practice of touching into that connection that matters.You can do a longer ritual periodically (maybe around a full moon, maybe at the solstice—​you decide). But the daily connection matters.

Resilience Practices in Feminist Action A year ago, Max was on the verge of total burnout. They had devoted their time, energy, and passion to social activism for years, working on the “front lines” of queer IBPOC activism, dis/​ability justice, and environmental justice. They organized protests, served as a leader in community organizations and mentored other queer youth of color. It was rewarding but also draining. They were so busy that they let their own self-​care and their daily practices fall by the wayside. The pace took its toll on their health, their energy, their creativity, and their hope. Fortunately, Max realized the pace and style of leadership was not sustainable and got involved in local Healing Justice communities, where they found a support network of people who helped each other reclaim practices that filled their well. A group of community leaders and healers started getting together once a month to cook together, reflect on their lives and their movement work, dance, laugh, and cry together. These connections developed into deep and loving relationships, so that they had people who know them, who could provide reality checks, and who could turn to each other in times of anger, grief, and joy. Max also started working with healers (on a trade basis, so that it was more affordable). They returned to some of the rituals of their ancestors and made sure to honor their ancestors daily at an altar they created in their home. They started spending more time with their Chicana community and practicing ceremony again. Even when they didn’t have a lot of time in the day, they spent some time out in nature to reconnect with the Earth. Now, Max feels a stronger living, pulsating connection with the wider energy of the universe. This helps feed them and provides inspiration for their movement leadership. They are more attuned to when their energy starts to lag and they can more easily build it back up. They are a better role model for the youth they

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184  Filling Our Well When Change Is Slow mentor, showing them that social justice work doesn’t have to drive them into the ground but can actually feed and sustain them.

References Boggs, Grace Lee, with Scott Kurashige. The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism for the Twenty-​First Century. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2019. Cooper, Brittney. Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018. Fernandes, Leela. Transforming Practice: Non-​Violence, Social Justice and the Possibilities of a Spiritualized Social Justice. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books, 2003. Gaia Staff. “What Are Rituals?” Gaia. January 17, 2017. Accessed June 20, 2019. www.gaia. com/​article/​what-​are-​r ituals. Garza, Alicia, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi. “An Interview with the Founders of Black Lives Matter.” TEDWomen. October 2016. Accessed September 20, 2019. www.ted. com/​talks/​alicia_​garza_​patrisse_​cullors_​and_​opal_​tometi_​an_​interview_​with_​the_​ founders_​of_​black_​lives_​matter?language=en. Hogan, Linda. Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007. Horwitz, Claudia. The Spiritual Activist: Practices to Transform Your Life, Your Work, and Your World. New York: Penguin Compass, 2002. Macy, Joanna and Molly Brown. Coming Back to Life. Foreword by Matthew Fox. Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers, 2014. Macy, Joanna and Chris Johnstone. Active Hope: How to Face the Mess We’re in without Going Crazy. Novato, CA: New World Library, 2012. Martin, Courtney E. Do It Anyway: The New Generation of Activists. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2010. Mitchell, Sherri, Weh’na Ha’mu’Kwasset. Sacred Instructions: Indigenous Wisdom for Living Spirit-​Based Change. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2018. Pyles, Loretta. Healing Justice: Holistic Self-​Care for Change Makers. New  York: Oxford University Press, 2018. Santos, Zoe Kian. “The Power of Ritual.” Indigenous Religious Traditions. Accessed June 20, 2019. https://​sites.coloradocollege.edu/​indigenoustraditions/​%E2%80%A2-​ ceremonial-​reflections/​the-​power-​of-​r itual/​. Solnit, Rebecca. Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories,Wild Possibilities. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books, 2016. Zimmerman, Kristen, Neelam Pathikonda, Brenda Salgado, and Taj James. Out of the Spiritual Closet: Organizers Transforming the Practice of Social Justice. Oakland, CA: Movement Strategy Center, 2010. Accessed September 19, 2019. https://​movementstrategy.org/​ directory/​out-​of-​the-​spiritual-​closet/​.

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12  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change

Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change You can make a change. Your very existence in the world creates a change in the universe, so the real question is: what kind of change do you want to create? What will you do with your time on Earth? Social justice work will also change you in many ways. The process involves being open to that change, allowing it to happen when the transformation is aligned with your values, being on guard against changes that run counter to your values, and all the while holding compassion for our humanity—​our own and that of those around us, who are also going through this process. What does it mean to say that social justice work will change you? We can hardly seek to transform society and assume that we will not be affected by that process. We have seen throughout this book the ways that oppression has likely seeded its tendrils deep within us, through privilege and supremacy that needs to be unearthed and dismantled, through the trauma of oppression that needs to be healed, and/​or through internalized oppression that needs to be interrupted and reframed. It is not just other people in our communities that need to be transformed; we have been affected by systems of oppression, too, albeit in very different ways, depending on our identities and experiences. Part of creating change is to start with ourselves and ripple it out, taking accountability for the places where we have our own work to do. If we expect others to do their work in unlearning oppression (especially when they might have great incentive not to) then we need to do ours. But the dynamic process of transformation goes even deeper than that. Social justice work will change us because, if we are open to it, we will be profoundly connected to the humanity and beauty of others, in a myriad of ways: We will connect with the deep pain of other people in our community, witnessing first hand the trauma of oppression.While we need to protect ourselves from taking this on as our own in ways that further traumatizes us, we will also be profoundly touched by the vulnerability and humanity of people around us. When we witness and/​or experience this trauma of oppression around us, we will also see the fierce resilience of marginalized communities (including our own). Marginalized communities have survived decades of oppression and have

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186  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change learned to thrive in spite of it. We will be touched by that resilience, which hopefully will strengthen our resolve to create change. We will be deeply inspired by the innovative change work that is happening in communities around the world. The more we learn, the more we engage with those groups and even participate in our own community-​based change work, the more we will be inspired by the creative, resourceful, and joyful alternatives that are being created in the face of intractable systems. We will be held accountable by others in our communities for moments when we fail to align with our vision or when we participate in oppression/​enact privilege/​supremacy. These will be uncomfortable moments but they are necessary and inevitable. The tendency is often to get defensive in an attempt to avoid the discomfort, but in order to both be a good ally/​accomplice and allow the transformation to occur, we actually need to sit with the discomfort, remain open to what we learn from it, and let it change us. We will feel despair. Sometimes our efforts will go awry. Sometimes an initiative we create will fail. Sometimes people in our community will let us down (or we will let ourselves down). Sometimes the change won’t happen fast enough to stop deep pain or loss from happening. Sometimes “the other side” will win. These moments are brutal. We may hit bottom and feel hopeless at times. Part of our practice means learning to sit with those moments without getting lost in them. Our job is to lessen how long it takes for the pendulum to swing back and to keep our focus on the vision of liberatory change. Change is inevitable, so our job is to do our best to move that change in the direction of justice, and if it gets off-​course, to redirect it. Knowing that we can weather this despair and that it, too, will change can help us avoid drowning in it when it happens again. We will be deeply touched by the people around us. The people we meet in social justice work will be more inspiring than we can imagine. That inspiration will come from all kinds of places—​from the seasoned activists you have long admired to the youth in the community group who has mad spoken word skills to the single mother who has shown deep resilience and creativity to the unexpected kindness of a stranger. These connections will fuel our reserve, touch us deeply, and remind us why we do the work we do.We can learn something from everyone around us. Community change is about reciprocal relationships, so we can all be affected by this relationality. We will learn deeply about ourselves. We will surprise ourselves with skills we didn’t know we had. We will disappoint ourselves when we inadvertently cause harm or make mistakes—​this, too, is part of the process. Hopefully, we will rise to the occasion and grow from those mistakes, transforming ourselves in order to transform our world. We will wonder at the power of our own voice when we fully embody it. As we are changed by the work, many of those changes are positive. As we create alternative ways of being, we, too, will learn new ways of being. We can live into those rich possibilities. But not all of the changes will be aligned with visions of justice. We might find ourselves becoming jaded or cynical. We might grow distrustful or hypercritical. Sometimes, these qualities are armor, helping to protect our tender hearts

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  187 from the difficulties of this work. After all, if we have seen similar efforts fail time and time again, if we have been betrayed by community members who won’t do their work of unlearning privilege even while espousing liberal rhetoric, cynicism and distrust make total sense. They may even serve us at times (such as when we withhold trust of politicians until they make good on their promises, or when we recognize that when corporations make a gesture toward justice, it is usually with a profit motive in mind). The question is whether those changes align with your vision of justice—​do they let you embody the change you want to see? How do they feel in your body? Do they let you continue to connect with yourself and others, or do they harden you? The latter is not always a bad thing—​it may be a necessary survival mechanism. But can you control what it cuts you off from? Can you don the armor when it serves you and still open your heart to connect with others when you want to? Or does it control you? Do any of the changes erode your hope or your ability to be creative (or even your ability to show up and keep doing the work)? If so, then it might be time to do an honest assessment. As hooks advises, “If in the struggle you have lost your joy, step back and ask: What is the struggle that will restore my joy?” (qtd. in Buddhist Peace Fellowship n.d.).

PRACTICE 12.1  Reflecting on How You Might Be Changing Find a quiet place to reflect and clear about 20 minutes without distractions. Have a journal and a pen or pencil nearby. Try to answer these questions with honest compassion. 1. Have you noticed changes in yourself in recent months? Do you find yourself opening and exploring more or do you find yourself getting increasingly cynical, judgmental, or closed-​down? 2. Are you changing in ways that are eroding your hope and creativity? 3. What do you think has caused it? Has it been a slow creep over time, or was there a particular catalyst that produced it? 4. How have you become aware of it? Have people close to you pointed it out? Have you begun to notice a dis-​ease or disillusionment in yourself? Have you started not liking yourself? What are the behaviors or thoughts (or lack of behaviors) that are leading to that assessment? 5. What effect have those changes had on your wellbeing? On your relationships? On those around you? Are you OK with the answers to those questions? Sit with those responses for a bit. Then explore what you might need to do. Do you need to step away from the work for a while? Do you need to step up your own healing regimen? Do you need to reach out for more support? Do you need to find a different role in the work for a while?

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188  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change Remember that the answers to these questions are about your own wellbeing, but, in turn, they are also about the work itself. You are not doing the movement any good if you are acting from your wounds in ways that cause more wounding, or if you are becoming desensitized to your own pain and that of others. Ultimately, your wellbeing and the effectiveness of social change efforts are interdependent. Remember the feminist principle that how you get there matters. The very ways we work toward change will affect what kind of change we can create. Sometimes, we need to step away from the work, take on a different role for a while, or change how we do the work in order to be able to embody the justice we want.

The work will affect us.That is good and inevitable. Ultimately, the test of whether we want to let a change fundamentally shape us is whether it aligns with our principles. Having a really good support network around us of people we trust—​ especially if we hold any power in organizations—​is critical to the integrity of that process. We need people who love us and who will speak truth to us, even if it is hard to hear. That can help us stay on the path and keep us connected.

Living Contradictions, Living the Question Radiating our feminism is a dynamic, organic process. It pulsates and changes from moment to moment, day to day. Feminism, for most of us, is not a doctrine or a set of party principles. It is a way of being. It is embodied, and it influences how we live in the world. Part of radiating our feminism means walking the talk, putting our ideals into practice. Sometimes that’s easy, but often, it is not. We live in a complex world in which systems of oppression have a lot of power. Though it is critical to “walk the talk” and remain aligned with our feminist ideals throughout our lives, from the daily choices to how we vote to how much energy we consume to how we treat others, it is not always possible to live a “pure” feminism. Sometimes it isn’t clear what that would look like. Sometimes, this complex world forces us to live contradictions. For instance, you may purchase fair trade products as much as you can in order to support both a living wage for workers and protect the environment. But maybe you still purchase your clothing at Target because that’s what you can afford, Or, in my case, I  still wear clothes that I  know are fast-​fashion, but I  usually buy them used from consignment stores. Maybe you want to donate to a lot of good community organizations and the ACLU, but you can’t afford to, so the best you can do is round up your purchases at stores that offer that. Maybe you see all the problems in mainstream media and can offer a nuanced critique of all the “isms” in their portrayals of marginalized groups. But maybe sometimes you just need to turn off your critical thinking brain and just enjoy problematic media for an evening. Or, maybe you are from a marginalized group that sees itself repeatedly ridiculed and criminalized in the media, so when you do get a quality show with

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  189 some more nuanced portrayal, you enjoy it, even when it still has some problems in its portrayals. Maybe you challenge the stereotypes in most of your family members in ways that make for strained family relationships. But you decide to go easy on your 99-​year-​old grandmother because you know she won’t change and you have just a bit more time with her. That doesn’t mean you agree with her problematic statements or that you don’t gently interrupt and redirect when they come up, but maybe you decide to focus on a different aspect of your relationship at this point. And there are many, many other examples. Radiating our feminism means daily contradictions because it is rarely possible to live a completely “pure” feminism in our current world.We do the best we can to live in alignment with our values, and we constantly reflect, re-​evaluate, change if we need to, and we keep going. The more we create social transformation, the easier it will be to live in full alignment with our social justice values. But in this messy world, that is rarely possible.

PRACTICE 12.2 What Contradictions Do You Live? Reflection: What are some of the contradictions you live? How do you reconcile them? What would have to change—​in your actions or in the world around us and the options currently available—​ to resolve those contradictions? That doesn’t mean, however, that anything goes. We do need to do our best to align all of our choices with our feminist values. That often means deciding which contradictions you can live with and which you cannot.That line will look different for each of us, but we will each need to come to terms with what it means to live in integrity with our values.That line may change over our lifetimes (which is part of what radiating feminism means.) It changes because the world changes and because we change. Our fundamental values may not change, but the more experience we get in this work and in social justice work, the more nuance we see. That may shape our choices differently. Which raises another complexity: we need to hold ourselves and each other to high standards of integrity, and we need to recognize that we are all human and we may make different choices about those contradictions. Living this “yes, and” can get messy.The current social justice world involves a lot of calling out in ways that are sometimes absolutely necessary and sometimes can be shaming and counter productive. Sometimes, we call each other out because someone who professes to be “woke” reproduces systems of oppression and hasn’t done their work in disrupting privilege and supremacy. Those conversations need to happen. But, sometimes what is happening is that someone has made a different choice about living contradictions than we have. And we may not know, fully, all the thoughtful consideration that has gone into that choice. That doesn’t mean that we should allow an oppressive action to go unchecked—​we should absolutely interrupt it (though it may, ultimately, be more productive to call in rather than to call out).

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190  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change But sometimes, if we keep in mind that there are many paths to justice and they are all flawed, we might find ourselves with a little more generosity. We might be able to hold someone or some action accountable and recognize both its values and its flaws simultaneously. A good example of a social justice effort that was both valuable and deeply flawed is the 2017 Women’s March. The march, which drew millions of people throughout the United States, advocated for feminist justice and protested the election of the Trump/​Pence ticket to office. The scale of the march, and the enthusiasm behind it, was critical because of the disillusionment and fear after the 2016 U.S. presidential election. But the march was flawed from the start, coming under a great deal of legitimate critique (Ramanathan 2017; Bates 2017; Holloway 2018; Jagannathan 2017; Mosthof 2017). First, the march was tailored after the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, but initially failed to give credit to the work of Black communities for this source of their inspiration and model. In the beginning, the planners failed to reflect intersectional identities in the march’s vision and platform. (This erasure stung all the more when we consider how many white women voted for Trump.) Therefore, initially the march not only spoke for those women who are most privileged, it also reproduced the mistakes and exclusion of many mainstream feminist initiatives of the past (hence the critiques). Moreover, the prevalence of pussy hats (though I understand the commentary on Trump) was essentialist, particularly given the tendency of some forms of feminism to marginalize trans and gender nonbinary individuals, along with anyone else who doesn’t fit into the heteronormative and cisgender binary. As such, this march reproduced many of the problematic moves of white feminism in the history of U.S. social justice movements. People’s critiques of it are based in this history. At the same time, the march generated momentum that was much needed at that time (and still is). Moreover, the organizers responded to some of the initial critiques and brought in many leaders of color and other marginalized groups who helped address some of these concerns (although keep in mind it is also problematic for members of a dominant group—​in this case, white feminists—​to reproduce exclusions and then expect members of the marginalized group—​in this case, women of color—​to fix it.) This march then, was both powerful and deeply flawed. People divided on whether to attend it and analysis flew across the social media. Alicia Garza, one of the founders of Black Lives Matter, published a very thoughtful piece on why she attended the march even while recognizing its limitations. She writes, I decided to challenge myself to be a part of something that isn’t perfect, that doesn’t articulate my values the way that I do and still show up, clear in my commitment, open and vulnerable to people who are new in their activism. I can be critical of white women and, at the same time, seek out and join with women, white and of color, who are awakening to the fact that all lives do not, in fact, matter, without compromising my dignity, my safety and radical politics. (Garza 2017)

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  191 Her words are thoughtful reflections of what it sometimes looks like to live contradictions. Most of our movements are flawed in some way. That does not mean that there isn’t still a value to them, or that we cannot sometimes participate in them on our own terms, in ways that still allow us to maintain our integrity. Garza goes on to write, More than a moral question, it is a practical one. Can we build a movement of millions with the people who may not grasp our black, queer, feminist, intersectional, anti-​capitalist, anti-​imperialist ideology but know that we deserve a better life and who are willing to fight for it and win? (Garza 2017) Garza made the choice to attend—​so did I (I attended the one in the Twin Cities). But that doesn’t mean we didn’t recognize its flaws. And I honor those who chose not to attend because of their critiques. Both are valid choices. There will be many moments along our feminist journey when we don’t have answers, when we don’t quite know what to do. There will be other moments when we think we know exactly what to do. We may even be utterly certain that we know better than those around us—​and only time will tell whether we are right. Time and experience are powerful teachers, if we cultivate self-​reflection and an openness to really learn from our past—​both our successes and mistakes—​ and from those around us.

Many Paths to Justice When I  first found feminism, I  was passionate and righteous. I  was often so committed to disrupting the patriarchy and all other systems of oppression that I was certain there was one way to do so. I see similar positions play out in many social justice colleagues and in students over the years.The commitment is admirable. But the reality is that there are many paths to justice and we need them all. We rarely know—​with utter certainty—​the best way to dismantle oppression; if we knew how to do it with a surefire method, it would be done by now. There are certainly better or worse strategies, but experience teaches adaptability and openness to multiple paths to justice. There are also different roles and skill sets needed in that transformation. One of the models I  love for thinking about this is the Buddhist Peace Fellowship’s (BPF) model of Block. Build. Be (Loncke 2017; Buddhist Peace Fellowship n.d.).1 There are many other models for social change (I recommend studying social movements for those theories.) But “Block. Build. Be.” will be good for illustrating my point here. This model traces three primary roles in social transformation. Block: “resisting harm and injustice” (Buddhist Peace Fellowship n.d.). To resist what is and create obstacles that block systems of oppression.This strategy includes protests, sit ins, blocking highways, petitions, lawsuits, public outcries, and so on. It is a critical tactic that puts a wrench in the workings of intractable systems. It

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192  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change both slows down those systems and raises public awareness about the harm they enact (Loncke 2017). Many consider this strategy to be the way to do activism, and it is, indeed, a critical one. But it is not the only path. As Brown notes, it is important to not just de-​construct but also learn how to “re-​construct” (Brown 2017). Which leads me to the next strategy in the BPF model. Build: “Cultivating relationships, communities, and new structures” (Buddhist Peace Fellowship n.d.). This strategy helps create empowering alternatives, such as community-​based organizations, clinics, community gardens and murals, youth programs, alternative schools and media, microfinancing and cooperatives. It is not enough to just resist what is; we also need to create what we want to see instead. The Build path is where we imagine ways of being outside of systems of oppression that enable us to forge more equitable, liberatory, and compassionate ways of being with one another. Then there’s the Be track. Be: “Contemplative practices for resilience and liberation” (Buddhist Peace Fellowship n.d.). This role works to embody the wisdom of transformation (Loncke 2017; Haney, 2016). This Block, Build, Be model is grounded in Buddhism, but for those who do not practice Buddhism, wisdom might come from one’s own faith practice, other feminist/​social justice warriors, or histories of social movements.The beauty of this BPF model is how simply and powerfully it illustrates that we need all of them in order to truly create justice. We cannot only block what is problematic. What happens when we stop it, but we don’t have anything in its place? But building alone may not stop the systems. We need all of them and they compliment one another. We might find that we are drawn more to one than the other. Perhaps our skill sets, our energies, or our particular affinities make one a more natural fit than the others. I, for one, am more of a Builder. But I recognize that we need the others as well. The other tactics might be necessary for particular situations. We might be called to protest the building of a pipeline on Native land, as happened in Standing Rock (and other places) or a 30-​meter telescope on Mauna Kea, a sacred mountain in Hawaii. Even in these arguably Block strategies, Build and Be methods are also necessary. In some BLM protests, community healers were on site to provide support for the frontline activists. In the protests against the building of the telescope on Mauna Kea, Native Hawaiians danced, sang, and practiced ritual as a way of connecting to each other, the land, and their ancestors.These practices both reflect and nourish resilience and liberatory ways of being. Build, Block, and Be practices are often intertwined. We may find ourselves called to play one role over another. Our calling may change throughout our lives. We might also find we get imbalanced in one direction or another. Sometimes we Block for a while and then find ourselves burned out. If that happens, we might play a different role. Katie Loncke, co-​director of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, refers to this as “rotating the crops,” a metaphor that references how we can allow the soil in one area to refuel its nutrients when

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  193 we step away to another strategy for a while (Loncke 2017). That is easier to do when we deeply value all the roles for what they bring to justice work. Writer Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that the “idea is to pay attention to the living world as if it were a spider’s web: when you touch one part, the whole web responds” (qtd. in Tonino 2016). What shifts in one place affects all of us. We may find that one or more of these different themes resonate for us at different moments in our lives or for different situations. They allow us deep self-​ reflection—​something that is central to radiating our feminism.

PRACTICE 12.3  Directing Your Energies to Your Passions Draw a map, a diagram, or a representation of your communities. (Or go back to the one you drew in Chapter 4.) 1. What are the “isms” that most deeply affect your communities? (Note: you may find they all do.) 2. What are the particular issues that are urgent in your communities right now? (Racial justice? Health care? Climate change? Sovereignty? The health of LGBTQ+ youth?) 3. What are the issues that most interest you and arouse your passion? These might be the ones on which you focus.You cannot remain completely informed on every single issue, so you might find one or two that you immerse yourself in.You can certainly be involved and committed to others as well, but perhaps you play support on those, not primary leadership. 4. What skill sets, experience, or talents do you bring to the movement? (Hint: You absolutely have some. Are you good with people, a strong public speaker, good with behind-​the-​scenes details? Are you an artist, a healer, a grant writer?) Knowing some of the resources you have to offer can also strengthen the work you do. 5. Now go back to the discussions we had in Chapter 10. What feeds you in this work? What drains you? Reflect on all of your responses. What do they tell you about where you might want to be putting your energies in your social justice work? This can be an ongoing assessment, one worth doing at least annually if not every six months, and certainly when you start noticing that something is “off ” in your wellbeing or in your social justice work.

What Do We Mean by Justice? Part of doing this work is to continually reflect on what we mean by justice.What is it we want? What does justice look like in the context of any particular issue? How does a particular event fit into a larger vision of justice?

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194  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change I have already discussed how useful Healing Justice is in this process. Transformative Justice (TJ) is another powerful model here. Brown discusses Transformative Justice in this way: Transformative justice, in the context of emergent strategy, asks us to consider how to transform toxic energy, hurt, legitimate pain, and conflict into solutions. To get under the wrong, find a way to coexist, be energy moving towards life, together. (Brown 2017, 133) TJ recognizes several limitations of many mainstream movements to end violence, including: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

One size fits all. Over-​reliance on the criminal legal system. Reliance on state funding. Narrowing the definition of violence. Focus on individual interventions. Professionalization of the work (Russo and Spatz 2017, 2).

Each of these attempts generally end up reproducing problematic elements of the very system people are trying to change, which ultimately ends up continuing cycles of violence and oppression.Transformative Justice, on the other hand, works outside the system, analyzes every aspect of the alternative structures they create, and builds community capacity. Brown outlines some of the central principles of Transformative Justice: 1. Acknowledges the reality of state harm. 2. Looks for alternative ways to address/​interrupt harm, which do not rely on the state. 3. Relies on organic, creative strategies that are community created and sustained. 4. Transforms the root causes of violence, not only the individual experience (Brown 2017, 135). There are a few things that are really useful about this model (though no model is flawless and you might find others more appealing to you).TJ recognizes structural and systemic oppression and its impacts on our spiritual, emotional, and embodied wellbeing.TJ’s central principles include “liberation, shifting power, accountability, safety, collective action, respect[ing] cultural difference/​guard[ing] against cultural relativism, [and] sustainability” (Project NIA 2013, 4).TJ recognizes that we cannot truly change individual experiences without addressing the systemic conditions that create them—​we need to change the root causes of the harm or we are only putting a Band-​Aid on a wound. It builds creative alternatives at the community level that enact and model what we want to see instead. It is adaptable and values multiple paths of change (Community Accountability n.d.). “TJ is a mutable process with only its values set in stone” (Brown 2017, 134). This approach offers

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  195 profound ways of envisioning the larger path to justice and informing each of our next right steps along that path. The TJ model also recognizes that change takes time. This can be hard to swallow given the destruction, pain, and violence that oppression wreaks. In order to create a more just world, we need authentic community relationships, which take time to build. It takes time to heal ourselves and our communities. So yes, we need to interrupt the urgent moments, but we also need to build our capacity to be in it for the long haul, to reserve the energy needed to actually build creative alternatives, and to forge healthy, loving, compassionate communities. “Through building the capacity of communities to increase justice internally, Transformative Justice seeks to support collective action toward addressing larger issues of injustice and oppression” (Kershnar et al. 2007, 5). When we take the time to do this, we are, in fact, building justice, from the ground up. This needs to be integral to movement work, not as an afterthought. The iconic activist Grace Lee Boggs said we need to shift our vision from “mile wide inch deep movements” to “inch wide mile deep movements” (qtd. in Brown 2017, 20). Instead of trying to do everything and ending up doing it in surface ways, we focus on those people and issues to which we are immediately connected and dig deep, building trusting, strong, and resilient communities. If everyone did this, we would have powerful connections—​like the interconnected oak trees that survived Hurricane Katrina while many other trees fell (Brown 2017, 84). Given how intersectional communities work, there will be inevitable connections between our “inch wide mile deep” movement and the one in the next neighborhood over—​people/​issues will provide bridges between them. So eventually, all these inch-​wide, mile-​deep, strong, resilient communities will be interconnected, having forged creative alternatives and built the more just world we want to see. This is one strategy for giving our all while also not trying to take on too much.

Staying True to Our Vision … and Continuing to Adapt Keep in mind that sometimes our strategies and principles need to transform as well. Not our underlying commitment to justice—​that may remain the same. But what does justice look like and what are the best strategies for getting there? These answers may change a bit as conditions change and as the needs of our communities change. So on some level, our fundamental principles both remain constant and are open to adaptation. What is useful in one situation, at one point in time, might not be as useful in a different situation.We can draw on the experience, but we might need to be open to tweaking it. And we certainly need to reflect on what did and didn’t work in the first situation, so that we can learn and fine tune the strategy. Adaptability and flexibility can be important qualities in our work for justice (Brown 2017). While change will always happen and impermanence may be the only permanence, it doesn’t always have to happen to us. We do have some agency (the power to make choices and create change in our own lives and communities) and we can use it to catalyze change. As politicized somatics teaches us, though we are shaped by many factors in society, we can also shape back (“Somatics and Politics” 2018).

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196  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change While we cannot control the outcome, we can take the initiative to work toward the world we want. In order to do that, we might want to be clear on the world we want, or at least a sense of what we think justice looks like.We engaged in a visioning practice earlier in the book. Now let’s try it again, and this time, let’s try some time travel. Let’s see if we can imagine what liberation looks and feels like.We may not be able to envision it perfectly—​and probably that is best, as it would be rather prescriptive and may close us off from adapting to new possibilities that emerge in the process of creating justice. In other words, if we think we know exactly what justice looks like, we may be so focused on creating that particular vision that we aren’t open to what happens when many creative change agents co-​create something. The latter may result in something that we couldn’t have imagined alone. So we want to be open and adaptable, but we also want to have some sense of what our vision is.

PRACTICE 12.4 Visioning Time Travel Have a paper and pen or some art supplies nearby. Find a good seat and a quiet moment to turn inward for 5–​7 minutes. Your eyes can be closed or softly focused on the floor a few feet in front of you.Take a few deep breaths to ground yourself. Imagine a fully just world 100 years from now, a world in which everyone is safe and valued and everyone has enough not just to survive but to actually thrive. What does that world look like? Just allow whatever vision you have to go wherever it goes. What is the environment like? Are you imagining a room or the outdoors? Notice the details. What are the sounds and smells around you? Who is present in that world? How are they relating to each other? Where are you in that world? What role do you play? Where is your community in that world? What roles do they play? What are you feeling as you imagine this world? What is happening in your emotions? In your body? In your breath? In your heart center? What is possible in that world? When you feel like you have a full sense of what that world of justice feels and looks like, gently open your eyes (if you need to) but stay with that vision. Now draw or journal about what you imagined. Get as specific as you can. Compare your responses to what you wrote in Chapter 1.What has changed? Gotten clearer? What questions have emerged? Talk with your friends and co-​leaders. How does your vision intersect with their visions of liberation? Where are they different? How can you co-​ create visions of liberation that meet your collective needs and dreams? How can you … how can WE … begin to live into that vision of liberation?

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Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change  197

Radiating Feminism Is Both a Practice and a Journey We are co-​creating a more just world. Our feminism is a process not a destination. It is a living practice, something we engage in from moment to moment, breath to breath. And it is a journey—​one that will change over time, one that will change us over time. May your journey be inspiring, powerful, and joyful. May it support you in creating lasting transformation in yourself and in your communities. The world needs you.

Note 1 The Buddhist Peace Fellowship leads trainings on these models. Learn more here: www. buddhistpeacefellowship.org/​block-​build-​be/​.

References Bates, Karen Grigsby. “Race and Feminism: Women’s March Recalls the Touchy History.” Code Switch. 2017. Accessed July 31, 2018. www.npr.org/​sections/​codeswitch/​2017/​ 01/​21/​510859909/​race-​and-​feminism-​womens-​march-​recalls-​the-​touchy-​history. Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press, 2017. Buddhist Peace Fellowship. “Block. Build. Be.” Accessed July 21, 2019. www. buddhistpeacefellowship.org/​block-​build-​be/​. Community Accountability & Transformative Justice Collective. “What Are Community Accountability and Transformative Justice?” Accessed July 31, 2018. www. transformativejustice.eu/​en/​accountability-​and-​sexual-​violence/​what-​are-​ca-and-​tj/​. Garza, Alicia. “Our Cynicism Will Not Build a Movement. Collaboration Will.” Mic. January 26, 2017. Accessed December 18, 2017. https://​mic.com/​articles/​166720/​blm-​ co-​founder-​protesting-​isnt-​about-​who-​can-​be-​the-​most-​radical-​its-​about-​winning#. r9ffdP23h. Haney, Dawn. “Block, Build, and Be: Buddhism and Social Justice.” Turning Wheel Media. May 9, 2016. Accessed December 20, 2018. www.buddhistpeacefellowship.org/​block-​ build-​buddhism-​social-​justice/​. Holloway, S.T. “Why This Black Girl Will Not Be Returning to the Women’s March.” Huffington Post. January 19, 2018. Accessed July 31, 2018. www.huffingtonpost. com/​entry/​why-​this-​black-​g irl-​will-​not-​be-​returning-​to-​the-​womens-​march_​us_​ 5a3c1216e4b0b0e5a7a0bd4b. Jagannathan, Meera. “The Case against Pusshats ahead of This Year’s Women’s March.” Moneyish. January 12, 2017. Accessed July 31, 2018. https://​moneyish.com/​ish/​the-​ case-​against-​pussyhats-​ahead-​of-​this-​years-​womens-​march/​. Kershnar, Sara, Staci Haines, Gillian Harkins, Alan Greig, Cindy Wiesner, Mich Levy, Palak Shah, Mimi Kim, and Jesse Carr. “Toward Transformative Justice: A Liberatory Approach to Child Sexual Abuse and Other Forms of Intimate Community Violence /​A Call to Action for the Left and Sexual and Domestic Violence Sectors.” June 2007. Accessed July 31, 2018. www.generationfive.org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2013/​07/​G5_​ Toward_​Transformative_​Justice-​Document.pdf.

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198  Conclusion: Riding the Cycles of Change Loncke, Katie. “Block, Build, Be: Wisdom, Activism.” Healing Justice Podcast. November 27, 2017. Accessed July 31, 2018. https://​healingjustice.podbean.com/​e/​wisdom-​ activism-​block-​build-​be-​katie-​loncke/​. Mosthof, Mariella. “If You’re Not Talking about the Criticism Surrounding the Women’s’ March Then You Are Part of the Problem.” Bustle. January 30, 2017. Accessed July 31, 2018. www.bustle.com/​p/​if-​youre-​not-​talking-​about-​the-​criticism-​surrounding-​the-​ womens-​march-​then-​youre-​part-​of-​the-​problem-​33491. Project NIA Collaboration. “Transformative Justice: A Curriculum Guide.” Fall 2013. Accessed July 31, 2018. https://​niastories.files.wordpress.com/​2013/​08/​tjcurriculum_​ design_​small-​finalrev.pdf. Ramanathan, Lavanya. “Was the Women’s March Just Another Display of White Privilege? Some Think So.” The Washington Post. January 24, 2017. www.washingtonpost.com/​ lifestyle/​style/​was-​the-​womens-​march-​just-​another-​display-​of-​white-​privilege-​some-​ think-​so/​2017/​01/​24/​00bbdcca-​e1a0-​11e6-​a547-​5fb9411d332c_​story.html?utm_​ term=.284cc53f4e0d. Russo, Ann and Melissa Spatz. “Communities Engaged in Resisting Violence.” Women and Girls CAN. December 2017. Accessed July 31, 2018. www.transformativejustice.eu/​ wp-​content/​uploads/​2010/​11/​communities_​engaged.pdf. “Somatics and Politics,” with Sumitra Rajkumar. Healing Justice Podcast. January 16, 2018. Accessed November 26, 2019. https://​podtail.com/​en/​podcast/​healing-​justice-​ podcast/​12-​somatics-​politics-​sumitra-​rajkumar/​. Tonino, Leath. “Two Ways of Knowing: An Interview with Robin Wall Kimmerer.” The Sun Magazine. April 2016. Accessed July 30, 2018. www.thesunmagazine.org/​issues/​ 484/​two-​ways-​of-​knowing.

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Index

#1000BlackGirlBooks 4 #NoDAPL movement 3 accomplices 105–​108, 186 accountability: allies 104, 111, 116; cycles of change 185, 186, 190; difficult conversations 129, 132; harm, when we cause 98, 99; intention 177; love 146–​147, 148 active hope 176 affinity spaces 77–​78 Ahmad, Asam 132 Ahmed, Sara 137 Alexander, M. Jacqui 13 allies 102; vs. accomplices 105–​108; cycles of change 186; difficult conversations 123, 134; disappointment with 108–​109; expectations of 103–​104; feminist burnout and sustainability 158, 165; harm, when we cause 99; mentors, and disappointment 114–​116; in practice 116–​117; social transformation 111–​114; trust 111, 113; who? 102–​105; working with expectations, trust, and betrayal 109–​110 ancestors, connecting with 174 anchoring 44–​46 Anderson, Carol 142 Angelou, Maya 54 anger 137–​139, 149; and despair 174; check-​ in 140; familiarity with our 140–​141; in practice 149–​150; understanding our 137–​138; when we are targets of 143–​144; who is allowed 142–​143; wisdom of our 141 Anzaldúa, Gloria 71, 73, 74–​75, 76, 79, 83n2 assimilation 61, 79 backlashes 170–​171 Black Lives Matter movement 3, 177 “Block, Build, Be” model 191–​192

Bodhi, Bhikkhu 18 body: as central to feminism 10–​11; mind/​ body split 7, 11, 18, 140; see also embodied entries Boggs, Grace Lee 2, 4, 161, 195 breath 8, 44, 45–​6, 49 Brown, Adrienne Maree: just world 1; social change 161, 171, 172, 173, 192; toxic inner voice 67; Transformative Justice  194 Brown, Brené 18, 66 Buddhist Peace Fellowship (BPF), “Block, Build, Be” model 191–​192 Buechner, Frederick 173 burnout, feminist 153–​154; handling 161–​165; movement work as healing work 154–​155; in practice 165–​167; shifting what and how we practice 164–​165 Bush, George W.  150n3 calling out and calling in/​up 97, 132–​134, 189 Castille, Philando 106 celebration of all victories 171 centering 9, 42–​43, 44, 45, 49, 91 change see cycles of change; slow change; transformation Chávez, César 49 Chemaly, Soraya 137 Chödrön, Pema 22 Clance, Pauline Rose 54 code switching: embodied 80–​82; in-​between, navigating the 71–​73, 78, 80–​82; strength from 73–​75 collective care 160, 162 Collins, Patricia Hill 75 colonial legacy 8, 76 commitment: feminist 23–​25; somatics 33n1 communities: of care 160, 162, 164, 165; web of 66 compassion fatigue 153–​154, 156

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200 Index Conditioned Tendencies (CTs)  30–​31 connection, healing through 65–​67 contradictions, living 188–​191 conversations, difficult see difficult conversations Cooper, Brittney 173 Cullors, Patrisse 177 cycles of change 185–​187; directing your energies to your passions 193; justice, many paths to 191–​193; justice, meaning of 193–​195; living contradictions, living the question 188–​191; radiating feminism 197; staying true to our vision and continuing to adapt 195–​196; visioning a fully just world 196; within yourself 187–​188 David, E.J.R. 57 default practices 26–​28; allies 110; anger 141; as barriers to transformation 28–​31; change, discomfort of 31–​32; difficult conversations 128; privilege 86–​89, 91–​92, 97, 99–​100 defense mechanisms: difficult conversations 125–​126; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 86, 88–​89, 92, 93, 95; oppression 11 Derthick, Annie O. 57 despair: cycles of change 186; gentleness with our 174–​175; vs. hope 176, 177, 178 DiAngelo, Robin 88, 90, 122–​123 Dias, Marley 4 difficult conversations 120–​121; calling out 132–​134; vs. logic 125–​126, 130; meaning of term 121–​123; messiness is the work 127; in practice 134–​135; protective shield 123–​124; reflecting on 127–​128; tips 128–​131; triggers 126–​127; when people enter 124 discomfort: cycles of change 186; difficult conversations 124; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 86, 88, 89, 97; familiarizing yourself with 87 dissonance: difficult conversations 125, 130; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 86, 88–​89, 92–​95 dominant groups: allies 102; anger 142–​143; difficult conversations 129; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 85–​86, 89; idealizing 61; in-​between, navigating the 70–​83; intention 177; love 146; see also oppression; privilege Duran, Eduardo 42 Edwards, Keith 105–​106 embodied code switching 80–​82

embodied feminism 10–​12, 17–​20; change, discomfort of 31–​32; cycles of change 188; desired transformation 23–​25; and mindfulness 5–​7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 18–​20, 22–​23; in practice 32–​33; process, honoring the 25–​27; self-​reflection 20–​23; toxic inner voice 56, 58, 60–​61 embodied inner voice 53 embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling: aligning responses and commitments when called out 94–​95; dissonance 88–​89; embodied reactions, working with our 89–​92; harm, when we cause 96–​99; intentional responses 86–​88; intersectionality and the complexity of belonging 96; in practice 99–​100; resistance/​dissonance and the complexity of privilege and marginalization 92–​95 embodied reactions: to being called out, reflecting on our 90; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 89–​95; working with our 89–​92 Emdin, Chris 39, 40 energies: assessing your 158–​159; redirecting them to your passions 193 energy-​depleting vs. life-​affirming practices 161 epigenetics, and trauma 42 essentialism 83n3; allies 103; women-​only spaces 78; Women’s March (2017) 190–​191 faith, vs. hope 180 feminism: allies 102, 106–​108, 111, 114–​116; anger 137, 139, 150; commitment 23–​25; cycles of change 188–​191, 193, 197; defining your 4–​5; difficult conversations 120, 123, 125, 127–​129, 131–​2, 134–​135; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 85–​86, 88–​90, 93, 97, 99; love 145–​156, 149–​150; mentors 114–​116; messiness is the work 12, 127; radiating 4, 10, 155, 188–​189, 193, 197; slow change 173, 177, 180; what it means to you 10, 23–​25; see also burnout, feminist; embodied feminism; intersectional feminism; sustainability, feminist Fernandes, Leela 25–​26 Garza, Alicia 87, 139, 190–​191 gaslighting: difficult conversations 123; recognizing 63–​65 Generation FIVE 28, 46 Generative Somatics 11, 12, 18; centering 42–​43; commitment 33n1; Conditioned Tendencies 29–​30; embodied feminism

201

Index  201 23; oppression as trauma 39; politicized somatics 19–​20; practice 26; resilience 46 Graham, Renée 105 grounding 9, 37, 43, 44, 45, 49; difficult conversations 126, 128, 129; embodied code switching 81–​82; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 91 gut reactions see default practices Haglund, Kyra 38, 39, 40, 44 Haines, Staci K. 26–​27, 31, 38 Hancock, Alexis 64, 65 Harden, Kimberly 107 Harden-​Moore, Tai  107 Hardy, Kenneth 55 harm, when we cause 86, 89–​90, 92, 96–​99 hatred 139, 143–​144 Havel,Vaclav  176 healing: through connection 65–​67; feminist sustainability 154, 156, 159–​163; internalized oppression 61–​62, 65–​67; our go-​to practices 159; in practice 47–​49; and slow change 172–​173; therapy 162–​163; trauma and oppression 39–​40, 43–​44; wholeness, reclaiming 79, 80 Healing Justice (HJ) movements 4, 11, 194; feminist sustainability 154, 161, 162, 167n1; oppression as trauma 39, 44, 47–​48; podcasts 161, 167n1 heartfulness 7 Hemphill, Prentis 48, 154, 161 Hill, Anita 6, 15n2 Hogan, Linda 174 hooks, bell 145, 147; 187 hope: active 176; vs. faith 180; filling your well 177–​180; rituals of interconnection and wisdom 181–​183; and slow change 170, 174, 175–​177 Ikeda, Mushim Patricia 95 Imes, Suzanne 54 Imposter Syndrome 54–​55, 63–​64 in-​between, navigating the 70–​71; code switching 71–​73, 78, 80–​82; critique vs. protection 76; in practice 82–​83; “safe spaces” 76–​77; strength from 73–​75; “women-​only spaces”  77–​78 Indigenous Action Media 105, 106–​107 injustice see social justice inner voice: embodied 53; see also toxic inner voice; wise inner voice intention 177 intentional practices 26–​28; change, discomfort of 32; privilege 86–​88, 92

interconnection: rituals 181–​183; webs of 79 internalized oppression: code switching 71; communal 57–​58; gaslighting 64; healing from 61–​62, 65–​67; idealizing the dominant group 61; intergenerational 57; toxic inner voice 55–​68 intersectional feminism 15n1; allies 103; and embodied feminism 20; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 93, 96; just world 1, 2, 4, 6 Irresistible podcast 167n1 Johnstone, Chris 176, 177 Jordan, June 13 journaling: allies 103–​104; anger, understanding our 138; changes in yourself 187; embodied feminism 33; embodied reactions to being called out, reflecting on 90; filling your well of hope 179; healing practices 159; motivators to work for social justice 178; “shoulds”, recognizing your 52, 66; trust 113; wholeness, cultivating 79 joy 172–​173, 186 just world see social justice Kaur,Valarie 144, 145, 147, 148–​149 Keating, AnaLouise 13, 74, 156, 157 Kershnar, Sara 195 Khouri, Hala 38, 39, 40, 44 Kimmerer, Robin Wall  193 Kindred Healing Justice 43, 47–​48 King, Martin Luther, Jr. 13, 145 King, Ruth 138, 140–​141, 150n2 Lee, Barbara 150n3 Levine, Peter 17 liberation: allies 107, 112; cycles of change 186, 192, 196; embodied feminism 23–​28, 30; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 96, 99; feminist commitment 23–​24; feminist sustainability 155; imagining 1–​2; in-​between, navigating the 75; slow change 173; visioning 196; wise inner voice 68 life-​affirming vs. energy-​depleting practices 161 Lindahl, Kay 98 listening: allies 102; attentive 98; calling in 133; difficult conversations 133; harm, when we cause 97–​98 Loan Trân, Ngọc 133 Loewe, B. 154 logic, vs. difficult conversations 125–​126, 130 Loncke, Katie 144, 192

20

202 Index Lorde, Audre: anger 139, 142–​144; just world 12; oppression 58, 65; rituals 164; self-​care  158 love 137, 144–​149; practicing 147–​148 loving-​kindness 144, 148 Lyiscott, Jamila 78 Macy, Joanna 176, 177 Maina, Ng’ethe 26–​27, 31 Malcolm X 13 Manuel, Zenju Earthlyn 80, 139 Marshall, Thurgood  15n2 Mateen, Omar 36 McIntosh, Peggy 85 meditation: anger 139; discomfort, familiarizing yourself with 87; embodied feminism 32–​33; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 87, 91; primary social justice commitments, discerning our 157; protective shield 123–​124; see also self-​reflection memory: cultural 48; intergenerational 42; trauma 42, 43 Menakem, Resmaa: embodied reactions 89; resilience 46; trauma 38, 39–​40, 42, 43, 50nn6–​7 mentors: disappointment with 114–​116; feminist burnout 164; of future change agents 174 mind/​body split 7, 11, 18, 140 mindfulness: anger 138; change, discomfort of 32; difficult conversations 127; embodied feminism 5–​7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 18–​20, 22–​23; energies, assessing your 158; love 146; meaning of term 6–​7; oppression 47; and power 12; practice 26; rituals of interconnection and wisdom 181; toxic inner voice 56, 60–​61, 63; value and complexity of 7–​10 Mingus, Mia 68n2, 97, 99 Mitchell, Sherri, Weh’na Ha’mu’Kwasset 181 Mohanty, Chandra Talpade  5–​6 Movement Strategy Center 39 Murphy-​Shigematsu, Stephen  7 nepantleras 74, 79, 83n2 Nestlé 3 Obama, Barack 3 oppositional energy 156–​157 oppression 35–​37; allies 102–​105, 107–​109, 111, 114, 116; anger 137–​138, 140, 142–​143; cycles of change 185–​186, 188–​189, 191, 194–​195; difficult conversations 122–​123, 125, 129–​133;

embodied feminism 17, 19–​22, 25, 30; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 85–​86, 88–​89, 91–​94, 96; feminist burnout and sustainability 153–​154, 156, 159–​160, 162; gaslighting 64; in-​between, navigating the 72, 75–​77, 79–​80; love 146; resilience, cultivating 46–​47; slow change 170, 172–​173, 177–​180; and social justice 2–​6, 10–​11, 12; toxic inner voice 55–​68; as trauma 32, 37–​40, 42–​43, 47–​48, 55; see also dominant groups; internalized oppression orienting 44–​45 Owens, Lama Rod 142, 143 Padamsee,Yashna  160 Page, Cara 43, 46, 48 pain, clean vs. dirty 43 passions, redirecting your energies to your 193 Paul, Jon 106 Pence, Mike 190 Piepzna-​Samarasinha, Leah Lakshmi 160 podmapping 68n2 practice: embodied feminism 25–​27; see also default practices; intentional practices privilege: allies 102–​104, 107–​108, 110; anger 142; cycles of change 186, 189; difficult conversations 125, 129; feminist burnout and sustainability 155; see also dominant groups; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling protective shield 123–​124 Pulse nightclub shooting 36–​37 rage 138: check-​in 140; disguises 140–​141; in practice 150; when we are targets of 143; who is allowed 142–​143 Rajkumar, Sumitra 18 reactions, embodied: to being called out, reflecting on our 90; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 89–​95; working with our 89–​92 reflection see self-​reflection regulation 41, 44, 46 resilience support kit 174–​175 resourcing tools 44–​46 rituals of interconnection and wisdom 181–​183 Rome, David 97 Roof, Dylann 37 Ross, Loretta 135n3 safe spaces 76–​77 Safi, Omid 145

203

Index  203 self, sense of: difficult conversations 121; toxic inner voice 55, 65 self-​awareness, cultivating ongoing 37 self-​care 128, 146, 160, 162, 183 self-​esteem  55 self-​reflection: allies 102, 103–​104, 107, 109–​110; anger 137–​138, 140, 141; called out, being 90, 94–​95; changes in yourself 187–​188; check-​in 21; communities 66, 73; cycles of change 187–​188, 191, 193; daily rituals 183; difficult conversations 124, 126, 127–​128, 135n2; directing your energies to your passions 193; discomfort, sitting with 87; embodied code switching 80–​82; embodied feminism 20–​23, 33; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 94–​95, 97, 99; energies, assessing your 159; feminism, defining your 4–​5; feminist commitment, crafting your 23–​25; feminist practice, changing your 164–​165; harm, when we are the cause of 97, 99; healing practices 159; how you have been shaped 28–​29; inspiration 179; intentional practice 27; just world 178, 196; liberation, imagining 1–​2; life-​affirming vs. energy-​depleting practices 161; listening, attentive 98; living contradictions 189; love 146, 147–​148; ongoing self-​awareness, cultivating 37; oppositional energy, recognizing how it manifests 156; passions, directing your energies to your 193; primary social justice commitments, discerning our 157; protective shield 123–​124; “shoulds” 52–​53, 58–​59, 60, 66; trust 113; wholeness, cultivating 79; see also meditation self-​regulation 41, 44, 46 Seth, Shivani 63, 64, 65 shaping, sites of 28–​29 Shire, Warsan  134 “shoulds” 52–​54, 67; embodied imprint 58–​59; internalized oppression 56–​60, 62; recognizing your 52–​53, 66 slow change 170; ancestors, connecting with 174; backlashes 170–​171; celebration of all victories 171; despair 174–​175; filling your well 177–​180; gentleness with despair 174–​175; hope 175–​180; interconnection and wisdom rituals 181–​183; joyful and healing work 172–​173; learning about positive changes 173; local changes and the long game 172; mentoring future change agents 174; in practice 183–​184; spirituality 180

social justice 1–​2; allies 102, 107–​116; anger 142; centering 43; cycles of change 185–​196; difficult conversations about 120–​135; embodied feminism 19, 23, 26, 28; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 85, 90–​93, 95–​96, 98, 100; embodying our values 10–​12; feminist burnout and sustainability 153–​159, 162, 164–​165; feminist commitment 24–​25; imagining liberation 1–​2; in-​between, navigating the 78, 83; love 145–​146, 149–​150; meaning of 193–​195; messiness is the work 12; mindful and embodied feminisms 5–​7; mindfulness, value and complexity of 7–​10; oppression as trauma 39–​40, 44, 47, 48; primary commitments, discerning our 157; resilience 46; slow change 170–​180, 184; toxic inner voice 58; turbulent times 2–​4; “yes, and” approach 12–​13; your motivators to work for 177–​178 Solnit, Rebecca 13, 172, 175–​176, 180 somatics 11–​12; centering 42–​43; change, discomfort of 32; commitment 33n1; Conditioned Tendencies 30; cycles of change 195; difficult conversations 125, 126, 135n2; embodied feminism 18–​20, 22–​23; embodied healing 49; embodied reactions, working with our 91; feminist burnout and sustainability 162; inner voice 54; practice 26; sites of shaping 28, 29; trauma 38, 41 spirituality 8, 180 stillness 139, 140 Strozzi-​Heckler, Richard 18–​19, 26, 32 Strozzi Institute 11, 18; commitment 33n1; Conditioned Tendencies 29–​30; sites of shaping 28, 29 sustainability, feminist 153–​154; handling burnout 161–​165; healing practices 159–​160; life-​affirming vs. energy-​ depleting practices 161; movement work as healing work 154–​155; oppositional energy 156–​157; in practice 165–​167; primary social justice commitments, discerning our 157–​158; tips 155–​161 Tatum, Beverly 55 Taylor, Sonya Renee: radical self-​love 66, 67; toxic inner voice 53, 60; transformation 22 therapy 162–​163 Thich Nhat Hanh 9 Thomas, Clarence 6, 15n2 Thompson, Becky 97 tone policing 132, 142

204

204 Index toxic inner voice: connecting to heal 65–​67; gaslighting, recognizing 63–​65; healing from internalized oppression 61–​62; idealizing the dominant group 61; Imposter Syndrome 54–​55, 63–​64; multiple tools 63; origins 55–​61; in practice 67–​68; recognizing your 52–​53; the “shoulds” 52–​54 transformation: default practices as barriers to 28–​31; discomfort of 32 Transformative Justice (TJ) 4, 194–​195 trauma 35–​36, 49; collective 42–​43; cycles of change 185; developmental 37; embodied privilege, recognizing and dismantling 89; feminist burnout and sustainability 154, 162; historical 42; intergenerational 42, 43; oppression as 32, 37–​40, 42–​43, 47–​48, 55; resilience, cultivating 44–​47; secondary/​ vicarious 36; shock 37, 41; toxic inner voice 55; unresolved 40–​44, 47 triggers, and difficult conversations 126–​127 Trump, Donald 3, 49, 139, 142, 166, 190 trust: and allies 111–​114; slow change 172 uncertainty, and hope 174–​175 van der Kolk, Bessel 50n5 victories, celebration of all 171

Waheed, Nayyirah 134 Warning, Kate 167n1 “we”, use of term 14 West, Cornel 145 wholeness: anger 140; cultivating 79; feminist burnout and sustainability 155, 159–​160, 161, 165; hope 178; in-​between, navigating the 74, 75, 78–​80; reclaiming 78–​80 williams, angel Kyodo 10, 91, 145 wisdom rituals 181–​183 wise inner voice: healing from internalized oppression 62, 66; and Imposter Syndrome 54; nurturing your 59–​60, 64–​65; in practice 67; recognizing your 53 Witness: difficult conversations 128; embodied feminism 22; feminist burnout 164 women-​only spaces  77–​78 Women’s March (2017) 190 Yang, Larry 144 Yellow Horse Brave Heart, Maria 42, 43 “yes, and” approach 12–​13 yoga: colonial legacy 8; embodied feminism 33 Zapatistas 1