Welcome to my blog, where I’ll be tracking my own journey on the path of learning to be an activist every day, and hopefully inspiring you to make your own journey with me.
I’m new to being an actual activist— someone who actively spends time in their day doing research, having honest conversations, buying goods consciously, and reflecting on internalized biases. I painted a mural this past summer, with the phrase “We need justice like lungs need air” on it, surrounding a portrait of Breonna Taylor. I sold prints, pins, patches, and stickers of it to raise money for the Equal Justice Initiative. We’ve raised over $1.5K to date. Since then, I’ve been selling home grown bouquets and homemade candles to continue the fundraiser (check out my Instagram highlights for more in-depth progress pics!)
But activism isn’t all pretty. In fact, most of it isn’t pretty. That’s the nature of working with such a terribly ugly issue. Months after making those stickers and patches, etc. with Breonna’s face on them, I realize that I commodified her. I participated in a narrative that turned a Black woman into a symbol for racial justice, when she never should have been. You know what I mean? She didn’t choose to give her life for the racial justice fight. She didn’t ask to be a symbol for us to rally behind. Black and Brown people who die at the hands of police are not martyrs, willing sacrifices, or necessary steppingstones. They’re not.
That’s not to say that I’m not proud of mobilizing my community to care about and discuss policing in the United States and how racist the systems and policies of our country are, because I am. We raised money and made an impact for the better, but we weren’t perfect. Yeah, I donated 100 per cent of the profits so none of it was me capitalizing on the situation for personal gain, but still. I learned about the nuance of the situation, and now, going forward, I won’t use someone’s face on a sticker to raise money for EJI.
But! That’s why I’m doing this blog— so you and I can learn. I guarantee I’m going to mess up, I’m going to say the wrong thing, get the wrong idea, and do the wrong thing. But what I’m not going to do is throw my hands in the air and say that my intentions were pure and leave it at that. It’s so hard to face stuff that you might have or certainly did do wrong and say “Yep, that was me, but it won’t be me going forward,” and be ok with that uncomfortable tension of seeing who you used to be contrast with who you wish you were and who you are becoming. We, myself included, identify a lot with our present positions on things, and the more we do that, the more any criticism or guidance on how we can do better is going to feel like a personal attack when it isn’t. It’s not personal. It’s just about becoming objectively better people so we can make a more equitable, kind world for everyone.
I think that the best way to do this is to find ways to understand and fight the ugly force of racism to the best of our capabilities and shape our response to it to cater to solutions that involve things that we’re talented at, that we find happiness in, where we can use our privilege as a lever to our advantage.
This is powerful