Honestly, I’m not really an activist – maybe an activist
wannabe. I have friends who are true
activists and I can surely tell the difference.
But I have, at least, been regularly visible in the fray for many
years. I’ve written previously about my
first ‘personal protest’ against racism but I lived a fairly conservative,
sheltered life when I was young. My parents
were not educated beyond high school and did not encourage discussions about social
or political issues. They did not even
begin voting until after I moved out of the house. So, I didn’t have any role models or
connections with people who were politically or socially active. Even when I heard Betty Friedan speak at
my college in Orlando, I didn’t quite know what to think.
The ‘60s have come to represent the quintessential period of
protest in America but for women, things really started happening in
the ‘70s. Feminist journalism and
writing exploded; equal pay initiatives were gaining foothold and equal access
to education was finally granted with Title IX; reproductive rights were being
recognized; the ERA was passed by the Senate and sent to the states for
ratification; women’s art, poetry, music, and theater were capturing the struggle
in new and evocative ways; and Consciousness Raising groups sprang up
everywhere. Some of the earliest
protests were strikes in support of equal pay and equal access to jobs, boycotts
against states that had not ratified the ERA, Take
Back the Night marches to protest an increase in violent crimes against women,
and demonstrations against Jerry Falwell and his “I Love America” rallies (a
precursor to the Moral Majority).
Probably the real turning point for me was when I came out in 1974 and finally woke up to feminism. I think my initial experience with group demonstrations was the first (and subsequent) Take Back the Night march in Waikiki and a protest outside the Hawai’i State Capitol building where Falwell was holding one of his rallies. I became active in the Honolulu NOW chapter working to write their bylaws, was part of one of those ubiquitous women’s collectives who did things like run coffee houses for women, and spoke to local schools, military groups, and other organizations about being gay. Finally, probably the most personally significant act of protest happened while I was working as a submarine mechanic at Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard. With the help of my doctor, a member of Physicians for Social Responsibility, I came to realize that I could not continue to work in a job that supported war and the use of nuclear power and nuclear weapons – no matter how much I liked the job or how much it paid. So, I quit my job and moved to Seattle. When I got there, I went to work for Puget Sound Sane (which evolved into Sane/Freeze) to fight the proliferation of nuclear weapons and the sale of arms to Iran to fund the Nicaraguan Contras. Since then I’ve continued my resistance in a variety of milder ways – joining marches and rallies, giving financial support to environmental and political causes, working on election campaigns, writing a blog about being eco-friendly in daily life, expressing my views directly to my elected representatives, creating politically-motivated art, etc.
Then, along came Trump. I was so excited when we finally elected an African-American president and I thought we were about to elect our first woman to that highest office. I was flabbergasted! (There has been a lot written about why we should not have been that surprised. I’ll leave those discussions alone for now.) The international display of opposition in the Women’s Marches on January 21st, 2017 was a powerful energizer. We marched and then we made plans and agreements and commitments and promises – to ourselves, to each other, and to the world. But now, here we are a short year later and I’m wondering what happened to that energy.
Shortly after the march, I gathered a group of people to talk about resistance to the Trump administration. These were people who, for the most part, had never been politically active. But they were scared, and outraged, and anxious to try and prevent what we all were afraid would happen with this presidency – what, in fact, has happened. But we couldn’t keep it up. I couldn’t keep it up. And I really want to try and understand why. We started out talking about going to additional marches and rallies; we tracked the Women’s March 100-day plan; we found the 5 Calls app (which is great, by the way); we identified reliable sources of news and agreed to read them and provide financial support; we each attempted to identify our primary areas of concern so we could focus on them and not feel overwhelmed. We wanted to DO something. We wanted to have an impact. I began attending a monthly film series at the OUUC focusing on race and racism. I got our book group to mail a bunch of postcards as one of the 100-day post Women’s March activities. I went to a SURJ meeting. I went to one other march. Now, I see those same people and we hardly even talk about the political issues. We do sometimes talk about the latest abomination coming out of the mouth – or the thumbs – of that monster in the White House. But what are we DOING? What am I DOING? I still pay attention. I certainly still read, try to stay informed, to learn. But right now, my life doesn’t feel much different than it did before that fateful election.
Where have I gone wrong? It’s not that I don’t care. In some ways, I think I care more deeply than ever. I certainly dislike this president more than any before him. Maybe I’m just feeling overwhelmed. And, even though I know it’s not true, I feel very alone in it all. Reading back over what I have just written, I think I see what’s missing. All of my earlier activism was in the midst of groups of others with whom I felt a connection and a camaraderie. I was living in Long Beach, California in 1975 when Olivia Records moved to LA and every lesbian I knew was in thrall to the music of a host of lesbians singing for and about us and about greater socio-political issues as well. As lesbians and as women we bonded over the injustice and oppression that we experienced and set out to fight against it. And music was our language. Olivia Records provided the lesbian sound track but there was also Holly Near, Helen Reddy, Aretha Franklin, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Nancy Sinatra, and others. And for the Seattle peace activists there was Sandy Bradley, Charlie Murphy, Pat Wright, Ranch Romance, Duffy Bishop, and Give Peace a Dance! We were all in it together.
I’m much older now, and I’ve entered a phase in my life that is more about solitude and introspection than joining groups. I find the need to resist just as compelling as ever but it may be that I need to find ways to keep the energy flowing, even as I go it alone. If the right group presented itself I might be inclined to join but I don’t think I should hold my breath. I need to act, with or without others. I have long believed that the power of activism is the DOING of it as much as any outcomes we might realize. That has not changed and I think it’s true whether we act alone or as a movement. I think I just need to get back to the DOING and trust that the doing will have its own intrinsic rewards. I will continue to share what I’m doing and hope that my sharing will encourage others. And if you’re interested in DOING any of it with me, just let me know!
So, with the first anniversary of #45’s inauguration upon us, what are my priorities?
Probably the real turning point for me was when I came out in 1974 and finally woke up to feminism. I think my initial experience with group demonstrations was the first (and subsequent) Take Back the Night march in Waikiki and a protest outside the Hawai’i State Capitol building where Falwell was holding one of his rallies. I became active in the Honolulu NOW chapter working to write their bylaws, was part of one of those ubiquitous women’s collectives who did things like run coffee houses for women, and spoke to local schools, military groups, and other organizations about being gay. Finally, probably the most personally significant act of protest happened while I was working as a submarine mechanic at Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard. With the help of my doctor, a member of Physicians for Social Responsibility, I came to realize that I could not continue to work in a job that supported war and the use of nuclear power and nuclear weapons – no matter how much I liked the job or how much it paid. So, I quit my job and moved to Seattle. When I got there, I went to work for Puget Sound Sane (which evolved into Sane/Freeze) to fight the proliferation of nuclear weapons and the sale of arms to Iran to fund the Nicaraguan Contras. Since then I’ve continued my resistance in a variety of milder ways – joining marches and rallies, giving financial support to environmental and political causes, working on election campaigns, writing a blog about being eco-friendly in daily life, expressing my views directly to my elected representatives, creating politically-motivated art, etc.
Then, along came Trump. I was so excited when we finally elected an African-American president and I thought we were about to elect our first woman to that highest office. I was flabbergasted! (There has been a lot written about why we should not have been that surprised. I’ll leave those discussions alone for now.) The international display of opposition in the Women’s Marches on January 21st, 2017 was a powerful energizer. We marched and then we made plans and agreements and commitments and promises – to ourselves, to each other, and to the world. But now, here we are a short year later and I’m wondering what happened to that energy.
Shortly after the march, I gathered a group of people to talk about resistance to the Trump administration. These were people who, for the most part, had never been politically active. But they were scared, and outraged, and anxious to try and prevent what we all were afraid would happen with this presidency – what, in fact, has happened. But we couldn’t keep it up. I couldn’t keep it up. And I really want to try and understand why. We started out talking about going to additional marches and rallies; we tracked the Women’s March 100-day plan; we found the 5 Calls app (which is great, by the way); we identified reliable sources of news and agreed to read them and provide financial support; we each attempted to identify our primary areas of concern so we could focus on them and not feel overwhelmed. We wanted to DO something. We wanted to have an impact. I began attending a monthly film series at the OUUC focusing on race and racism. I got our book group to mail a bunch of postcards as one of the 100-day post Women’s March activities. I went to a SURJ meeting. I went to one other march. Now, I see those same people and we hardly even talk about the political issues. We do sometimes talk about the latest abomination coming out of the mouth – or the thumbs – of that monster in the White House. But what are we DOING? What am I DOING? I still pay attention. I certainly still read, try to stay informed, to learn. But right now, my life doesn’t feel much different than it did before that fateful election.
Where have I gone wrong? It’s not that I don’t care. In some ways, I think I care more deeply than ever. I certainly dislike this president more than any before him. Maybe I’m just feeling overwhelmed. And, even though I know it’s not true, I feel very alone in it all. Reading back over what I have just written, I think I see what’s missing. All of my earlier activism was in the midst of groups of others with whom I felt a connection and a camaraderie. I was living in Long Beach, California in 1975 when Olivia Records moved to LA and every lesbian I knew was in thrall to the music of a host of lesbians singing for and about us and about greater socio-political issues as well. As lesbians and as women we bonded over the injustice and oppression that we experienced and set out to fight against it. And music was our language. Olivia Records provided the lesbian sound track but there was also Holly Near, Helen Reddy, Aretha Franklin, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Nancy Sinatra, and others. And for the Seattle peace activists there was Sandy Bradley, Charlie Murphy, Pat Wright, Ranch Romance, Duffy Bishop, and Give Peace a Dance! We were all in it together.
I’m much older now, and I’ve entered a phase in my life that is more about solitude and introspection than joining groups. I find the need to resist just as compelling as ever but it may be that I need to find ways to keep the energy flowing, even as I go it alone. If the right group presented itself I might be inclined to join but I don’t think I should hold my breath. I need to act, with or without others. I have long believed that the power of activism is the DOING of it as much as any outcomes we might realize. That has not changed and I think it’s true whether we act alone or as a movement. I think I just need to get back to the DOING and trust that the doing will have its own intrinsic rewards. I will continue to share what I’m doing and hope that my sharing will encourage others. And if you’re interested in DOING any of it with me, just let me know!
So, with the first anniversary of #45’s inauguration upon us, what are my priorities?
- Impeachment. As I wrote in the previous post, I believe this is where we should be focusing most of our attention. We should be demanding that this man be held accountable for his actions and removed from office due to his inability to execute his duties appropriately.
- Supporting congressional representatives and local leaders who continue to resist the selfish, racist, short-sighted, divisive, and dangerous actions of the #notmypresident and his right wing cronies.
- Mitigating the effects of this administration and republican congress by putting time, energy, and money into groups and activities that seek to make the world a better place for all.
- Expanding my awareness of the issues, their impact on people and the environment, and options for solutions by reading, watching films, and talking and listening to others.
I think this post has gotten out of hand so I’ll end
here. In the near future I’ll write more
about specific ways I can act on those four priorities and, in that, maybe you’ll
find some inspiration for yourself!
Stay tuned.
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