Toward An Ethics Of Activism: Introduction
If mass political resistance is understood to transpire in waves throughout history, social justice activism is currently enjoying a peak level of prominence in US public consciousness. Topics and movements such as #BlackLivesMatter, intersectional feminism, #MeToo, trans rights, #NoDAPL, and more have broached conversations in popular culture and media. And yet, the internal conditions of social justice communities are plagued with messy relational conflicts. Both newcomers and elders are afraid to speak up or ask questions, for fear of being ruthlessly called out or banished. As leftist activists, we have bulked up our muscles for critiquing and tearing down problematic behaviors, but are less practiced in reflection and turning towards one another. The popular discourse of justice is largely shaped by reactionary thinkpieces, inflamed social media posts, romanticized narratives of movement histories, and prescriptive checklists. All of this belies a lack of foundational understanding of the value of relationships, and how to preserve them when conflict inevitably arises. We’ve found ourselves stuck cycling in between blame, fear and shame. It is a stale, stunted plane from which to operate.
In 2017, I published “Excommunicate Me from the Church of Social Justice” and “Why I’ve Started to Fear My Fellow Social Justice Activists” in an attempt to address this relational crisis that I believe is just as urgent as the myriad political issues of justice and freedom we are all fighting for. For this reader, I’ve invited leaders in powerful activist movements shaping national and local political landscapes to join me and share their ideas on how to develop a life-giving framework of relating to one another.
We ask, as social justice oriented workers, organizers, activists, and community members, how can we treat each other with more care? How do we let our movements flex and morph as the conditions of our struggles shift? Our poetry, essays, stories and comics included in this reader formulate an expanded vision of social justice activism that is more humble, gentle, and open- for strategic recruiting purposes, but also, for enabling us well-deserved joy and reward in this work.
Toward An Ethics Of Activism acknowledges the ambitious and risky attempt of talking about the need for more love and compassion without erasing difference. I believe in “yes and” methods of justice work; yes, a historical system of oppression operates in our society that results in mass inequity and harm, and, we all have the capacity to recognize the humanity in each other and forge genuine connections.
The first iteration of this reader is my capstone project for my Master’s of Arts in Cultural Studies program at the University of Washington Bothell. Rather that generate more academic knowledge to be consumed by trained intellectuals, this project aims to surface collective knowledge by and for the benefit of marginalized and activist communities beyond the academy.
Let’s begin.
Dean Spade’s piece offers us a toolkit for responding more intentionally to interpersonal conflict. It guides us into deeper self-reflection about our patterns, defenses and assumptions when interacting with someone who has disappointed or hurt us. As we strengthen these emotional and communication skills over time, we can develop a culture of understanding our community members as necessary and worthy of our ongoing forgiveness.
Corinne Manning’s braided essay is boldly vulnerable, and she writes about her (and really, our) profound desire for human connection and community care, and the immense shame that follows when it is unmet. She draws parallels between her chronic illness and the disease of white supremacy, and the deathly isolation it demands. Introspecting from a space of multiple raw hurts, she models for us the necessity of radical vulnerability to find authentic, lasting connection with others.
My piece is a rumination on our performances of oppression we’ve internalized. Rather than critique this behavior as another problem to self- correct, I understand it as originating from our yearning for belonging in the communities we’ve invested in. I draw attention to the long-term effects of always referring to ourselves as damaged people, and propose activating other kinds of social performances that reduce the barriers for growing our movements for justice.
Maisha Manson’s short poems are carefully placed throughout this reader. Their poems outline what justice and healing feels like in the body, and graciously orchestrate imaginary work to bring us into their crafted spaces of queer Black belonging and safety. They have also included a poem breathing exercise acknowledging one’s exhaustion that can be practiced anywhere, anytime when rest is needed.
E.T. Russian’s vignette comics come from the perspective of someone who has been organizing for over 20 years. Using a blend of fiction and memory, they look back and forward to consider what it means to continue being in community with people you’ve harshly dismissed in the past, humbly welcome the new ideas of younger organizers, and recognize care work as activism.
Alicia Garza’s essay is a gift to Black communities in the US who are fighting for Black liberation and for Black lives to matter to this nation. Opening with a personal story of despair and depression as a teen, she talks about the meanness that she has encountered from leading the Black Lives Matter movement. To nurture what she calls a resilient and durable heart, she has developed a robust set of daily self-care practices that create an emotional safety net and pathways to healing.
Want to dive deeper? At the end of the reader is an Additional Resources list of further readings, recordings, and books that this reader was informed by, or seeks to be in conversation with. There is also a Discussion Guide, written by Erin Naomi Burrows, to lead you, your study groups, and your larger communities into dialogue reflecting on the ideas and approaches presented here.
My wish is for these pieces to sit with you as gentle friends and teachers. After a while, see if they offer you anything useful, new, or refreshing in your political convictions and interpersonal practices. As buzzwords like “diversity”, “social justice”, “oppression” and “intersectionality” become commodified and emptied of radical meaning, I urge you to pause when you find yourself being shaken out of your familiar understandings of what justice means and how to move towards it- even how you have chosen to define it.
This reader is an incomplete, experimental exploration (to use a colonial term) and exists alongside the many other leaders and organizations already doing this work. It is far from unique in raising concerns about divisive conflict and social isolation; rather, it addresses these issues during a flagrantly corrupt regime where recognizing our intertwined fates and banding together to resist dominant forces has reached a heightened level of urgency. I have compiled this reader not only from the wisdom of seasoned organizers, but also from a misty terrain of utopian speculation. It ushers us towards a shifted relationality, one that is not so unlike the present one we’ve created together, but exhibits less in-fighting, punishment, exclusion, and essentializing of identities.
While not everyone will agree with all the ideas that have been expressed here, I hope this reader will be embraced as a letter of encouragement to our beloved activist communities, reminding us that we are already free to choose more affirming ways of understanding ourselves and relating to each other. I invite you to join us in continuing dialogue and reviving practices around generosity and care within social justice movements that can make it possible for us all to lead sustainable lives of activism that take us beyond this moment of precarity into more just and joyful futures.
Main Anthology Page:
