Monthly Archive for December, 2014

come with me

2014 is almost over.

can you feel it? it’s almost over!

this wretched year is almost over!!!

y’all know i keep it positive, giving my attention with intention to the best of my abilities…and there have been beautiful things. totally.

miracle is my default, love and passion and travel and family and growth were abundant.

but the losses?…overall this year has been a pile of shit with threads of gold in it.

(i hear my radical ecologists arguing that shit is more valuable than gold and i see you, i mostly agree. just work with the metaphor ok?)

(and i will even concede that the shit and the gold will have impacts that are transformative and necessary and...wait this is not a parenthetical thought. so)…impacts that are surely worth the rummage through the dung heap of grief upon injustice upon heartache upon grief that has walked with me every month of 2014.

it’s not a woe is me moment…i know a wide range of people, all kinds of backgrounds, privileges, capacities, locations. and everyone just barely made it to the end of this year.

and now we are here and it’s time to cross over that line that we all agree is there, that line full of the promise that the sun will set on one year and rise on the next. i am so ready. i am praying and releasing and singing and dancing into the new year.

(i am not naive, i know it will continue to intensify, i know, i know. however this 2014, for my family…the distinct and particular pains, tribulations and patterns of absence and discontent? i am ready to step over.)

oh so ready.

if you are the type of person who makes resolutions each year, a set of promises to yourself, love notes full of health and good behavior and clearer nos and being the beyonce of your life, then i just want to say hell yes to all of it. do it like it was your greatest achievement!

resolutions are just self-love notes anyway.

if you are the type of person who can’t be bothered with resolutions? great, hell yes to you too. you are so cool, and you know that every day is a day to practice loving yourself and being your absolute best. you are just going to keep it moving. i dig that. awesome.

this is not a resolution necessarily, it’s just what i can clearly see as 2014 comes to an end: in 2015 i am going to create. we are needed, y’all! our whole selves are needed.

to that end, i am going to write, publish, produce collaborative things, heal myself and others, sing, facilitate, and create, create and create.

i am surrounded by priestesses, witches, healers, creatives – i am leaning into magic, with my words, my voice, my energy and my attention.

and i want you to come with me.

if you are a reader of this blog, yay. become a member, it makes me feel yummy and says to me ‘keep writing!’.

if you would like these posts delivered to your inbox, let me know in the comments section, or email/text/message me your request and i will make it so.

you can also follow the blog by subscribing to my tumblr, where i post each entry in full.

my favorite place to express myself on the internet is actually my instagram feed, where my focus is documenting my awe, noticing all the beauty i can. my range is basically babies to sky fetishes.

i am learning to use twitter and tumblr more interactively. help me learn.

in 2015 walidah imarisha and i will be touring octavia’s brood, which will be published by ak press in april.

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

so there is every likelihood that you and i will be face to face sometime this year if you want. i would like that. let me know if you might be willing to host part of our tour on your campus or…wherever you host things!

there are some other things brewing which are of utmost excitement to me, including deepening of my path as a somatics teacher and as a healer. i’m also going to be sharing emergent strategy work with more people.

thank you for the love, for the magnificent resistance and solidarity, for the brilliance of your survival, and for your own continued transformation. we are needed, we are precious.

let’s go!

music that got me through

This morning I woke up before the kids did, in the light of a Christmas tree, thinking of my ghosts.

I’ve also been thinking about the rebel Jesus…faith is a kind of ghost in my life too. I was raised with stories of a poor family of resilient miracle makers, and the birth of a freedom fighter who rolled with the same types of folks I roll with now, speaking of compassion, practice, sacrifice, forgiveness and love.

I’m not big on organized religion in this era of institutionalized greed, but I love these stories of justice, and I think in many settings, in my family, Jesus (radical, martyr, murdered, unarmed…and uplifted after death to create change in an unjust world) is another way to speak of black life, of dignity as a path out of oppression.

I’ve been thinking about how to live my values today and every day. Sade’s lyric ‘it’s only love that gets you through’ comes to mind over and over. I’ve been feeling ‘no justice, no Christmas’ these last few months, knowing that I wanted to reconcile magic and grief, resistance and abundance.

I’ve been exploring how ‘no’ is both necessary and not the shape of my daily life or work. Or perhaps more precisely, there are many ways to say no, and one is by turning up a righteous yes. So I thought, what do I want to say yes to, to grow, to multiply?

Love, yes. Creativity, yes. Black excellence and brilliance, yes! Authentic relationships and transformation? Yes.

To that end I gave gifts that reflect my values for creativity, spirit nourishing, genius. I gave and requested gifts that increased resources to black life. I gave to the families of as many of our black martyrs as I could.

Over and over I came back to music as the gift I wanted to give, and it made me realize what an incredible year this was in black music.

That sparked this post for today.

Here is the Spotify playlist to go with this post!

This year has had many many moments when music was the only thing that got me through. I want to thank the new and old artists who were medicine, soundtrack, and light at the end of converging tunnels.

I started the year in a Beyonce universe that kept providing joy and contemplation throughout the year, with 7/11 as a gratuitous cherry on top.

When my loved ones died this year, there were a few songs I needed to listen to, to move things through. Jimmy Cliff’s Many Rivers to Cross was the first and central song of my grief soundtrack. I’m also grateful for the familiar voices of Sade, Whitney Houston, Donny Hathaway, Johnny Cash and Sam Cooke.

In terms of new albums, there were a few that I want to lift up and shout out as healing either in content or just by exhibiting the beauty of fully realized creative output.

Obviously D’angelo has claimed the end of the year. Black Messiah is an instant classic, and a gift that is both on time and on purpose. All I want to feel in this moment is the easy good continuous blackness that he and Questlove deliver on this album. It works as a coherent whole, and as a loop with no beginning and no end. There is no moment, no note, no moan or snare, no rhythm and no lyric on this album that I don’t love. Black excellence.

Little Dragon released an incredible album – mature, daring, gorgeous music. I forgot this and had to come back and honor them because Nabuma Rubberband was excellent and feels classic as the year ends.

FKA Twigs, on EP1 and LP1, is the other artist who gave herself to us as a sensual whole this year. On the lyrical tip she is specific, naughty and evocative. Her voice sounds both heavenly and carnal, she arouses with an incredibly light touch. She’s theatrical in performance, she’s gorgeous and strange to look at, she feels both young and very comfortable in her grown-ass-woman-hood. I could listen to her curse all day.

(I want to note here that Lykke Li’s album No One Ever Loved is incredible. Heartbreaking direct feelings – and it almost gave me whiplash in terms of the growth from her previous work. It feels like an emotional bookend to FKA Twigs work.)

Azealia Banks is the truth. She’s better than all the other rappers and she feels her feelings, she is as emotive and intelligent as she is ruthless. Her album is not perfect, but it’s exciting, her flow is fantastic and as I decipher her lyrics I am impressed with her mind and her choices. She and Kendrick Lamar , whose performance on Colbert gave me life, look back at their field from a distance.

I really enjoyed Mary J Blige’s The London Sessions. It feels experimental, produced by all these dope British artists I like including Sam Smith and Emeli Sande. I liked Sam’s album ‘In the Lonely Hour‘ as a set of well done pop songs that reference black music in every vibration, but he didn’t have the depth to hold me for more than a week of focused listening. However, paired with the life force of Mary J, there’s some really beautiful pieces. ‘Doubt’, ‘When you’re gone’, and a set of house dance tracks move this through.

Tunde Olaniran’s Yung Archetype was the most stylish stuff I heard this year, the music I put on when I needed to stomp around the house feeling fly. He’s an amazing performer and a righteous organizer and it’s a necessary combination.

As the year comes to a close, I have Nicki Minaj, Coultrain, TV on the Radio and Jesse Boykins III in the queue. (Speaking of Jesses, Jessie Ware was also the truth this year, and Jesse Williams made me believe in celebrity radicalism again.)

But the thing I am most anticipating is Toshi Reagon’s production of The Parable of the Sower. She’s collaborated with her mother to translate Octavia Butler’s work into an opera, and while I will miss these physical shows, my Christmas wish is a live recording, to spend years with this new music.

What about you beloveds…what are you balancing? And what music gave you life through this impossible year?

We cannot conquer each other.

Yesterday two police officers were shot and killed in Brooklyn. And in my social media realm I saw some responses that felt celebratory. I wanted to push back.

I get it. The more we become aware of the constant violence happening to us, the more unbearable it is. We develop an intelligent desire for vengeance.

But don’t let anyone get inside your heart! Don’t let the sickness of racism find a way to make hate feel at home in you.

I don’t expect any of our organizing and transformation work to rid this system of punitive police violence through legislation. This system is rooted in slavery, white supremacy, scarcity and violence.

I believe that our work is to begin and/or deepen experiments rooted in cooperation, compassion, abundance and dignity. We are soil, and earthworms in the soil. Nothing disappears, it only transforms, that’s just science. So here we are, knowing capitalism won’t disappear, composting the bullshit, producing fertile ground for life.

We must produce conditions conducive to black life inside of and between people and a nation conditioned for white supremacy…and we are not free from that conditioning even as we do the work. White supremacy and race-based capitalism permeates everything.

The primary symptom of this sickness of white supremacy is the capacity, and even desire, to write off a section of other humans as less than us, to believe that another group of humans, or several groups, do not deserve love, compassion, patience, transformative justice – or just, on some basic shit, to not be shot in the back. And to generalize a righteous defence into a murderous offense. Eventually, to not be able to see the innocence and possibilities in others.

I write this as the daughter of an American military man, sister to an American government employee, cousin to militia men, granddaughter of a christian evangelical, aunt to blue eyed children.

A few of you may come from families of 100% radical black freedom fighters. But the majority of radical people in this country are related to capitalists and racists.

We could write these people off because we oppose the systems they are a part of, have been persecuted by people just like them.

But for me, the bind of blood has made me consider my responsibility, has kept me in the game long enough to glimpse the wholeness of each of these humans, to witness the way they love even inside of all that sickness.

In many cases these family members would and have argued that their love drives them to participate in these violent systems. The particular sickness of race-based capitalism makes us believe the world can’t sustain us all, that we need to hoard and tier resources just for ‘our own’.

I believe that my love of myself and others and my authentic engagement can disrupt those systems.

My love is the only weapon I carry.

Part of my life’s work is to stay in direct contact with each person’s humanity, to show that I see it. I struggle in this, it’s internal liberation work. I don’t want to grow the violent, callous, reductionist aspects of humanity, and I believe that ‘what we give our attention to grows.’

Some days I can extend my love to all humans, or most of us. Some days I can only get as far as my family.

It’s enough.

Wartime comes into being when we cannot extend love and humanity to others, when we forget we are more alike than different. Yesterday there were communications going around using the word wartime, sourced from the police union in New York. Wars are fought to conquer, to win territory.

We can’t win by becoming what we are fighting against. In any case, the role of the police isn’t to conquer the people. We aren’t trying to win territory from police, we want to transform the root of racism within them, to stop the lynching.

We cannot conquer each other. The lie is that we can win safety through violence and war.

War is surface behavior, indicating something is rotten at the root. To truly change the conditions, we must do radical work. In and through ourselves.

This is the heart of black lives matter. It is not, and never has been, ‘black lives matter at the exclusion of white lives’ or ‘cop lives’ or ‘all lives’. It has always been about asserting that within the broader truth that all lives matter, blacks – black men, black women, black trans people, black children – are being executed at a genocidal rate. Black lives matter is us saying no, our lives are not disposable.

Miraculous precious mysterious black life is not disposable.

Black lives matter includes the need to love and cherish our own and each other’s lives…it doesn’t discount black on black aggressions, it doesn’t discount the need to counter our own internalized racism.

The brilliance of ‘black lives matter’ is that the truth is so simple and massive to hold: In spite of nearly everything that has happened on this continent since black people arrived, we assert our humanity, our right to exist.

I believe, and I’m not alone in this belief, that racism is an illness. Passed down through conditioning. A dangerous deluded state which, unchecked, yields slavery and genocide. It must be addressed directly.

Our most reactionary responses only grow racism. Fed violence, racism grows. Fed violence, all violence grows.

I don’t advocate for swallowing genocide – I believe in self defense. There are people I look up to throughout history who, in the face of escalating eradication strategies by the state, armed themselves and said ‘no more’. But arming a people in self defense is a different strategy from random executions.

A black man attempting to kill his black girlfriend and then killing two people of color in police uniform is not anything to celebrate – it is the sickness manifest. It is the inevitable place sickness takes us – death.

The thing we want to stop, in this moment of police violence, is black death by execution. We want to stop lynching, not match it. We want to stop the pattern of killing based on racialized distortion.

The fact that cops can see a black person and, in a situation that requires no violence, can decide to shoot that black person in the head, or heart, or in the back, or 6-41 times, or choke that person to death, or slam that person’s head into the pavement at a fatal angle, that is what we’re fighting against.

Dehumanization.

It enrages us that police can see a black person as a wild animal to take down, and we are standing up and shutting it all down to fight against that. For our dignity we are standing up, for our humanity.

Taking on that behavior would be the ultimate sign of our loss.

Some of us call the cops pigs, and I’ve heard my share of no bacon, no pork jokes. Most humor is rooted in trauma, we laugh so we can keep moving forward when irrational horrific things keep happening.

But police are humans, like us. Related to us. Some even still think they are protecting us. The harder truth is that humans – not pigs, not beasts – but parents and children and lovers, would treat other humans the way cops have been treating us. Have been trained to treat us.

Still, like the people the cops have been killing, innocent or criminal or criminalized, they all have the capacity to transform. That means there are options.

Cops are family to non-cops. If you have a police officer of any race in your family, don’t rage at large on social media – call them. If you have racist family, or family suffering from internalized racism…write them love notes. Talk about why ‘black lives matter’ and Ferguson moves you, talk about what you long for, grasp them at the root and let them know you are fighting for their humanity.

Violence is often seeded in cowardice and distance – now is the time to be brave, directly.

Our movement will keep growing, what’s happening now will keep escalating. In the same way that some of the most powerful activists against war are ex-soldiers, we need those who’ve seen the inside of structured police violence to know there is another way, that they have a place in the fight for liberation. To know that we believe they can reclaim their own humanity.

This is a moment to embody what we long for. To see humanity even through the most dehumanizing conditioning.

Can we offer the thing we demand, the capacity to look beneath the surface, in spite of the trauma and brainwashing?

Can we relinquish the comfort of faceless enemies?

Can we protect our basic ability to grieve the loss of human life?

Can we hone our ability to find the humanity in each person and keep our attention there?

Can we generate in the face of destruction?

a perfect action

it’s a beautiful day to be black.

woke up this morning to a brilliant new d’angelo album dedicated to ferguson and occupy, resistance. it’s full of love songs and funky grimy sexy beautiful man sounds over guitar and…so prince, so shuggie otis, so marvin, so bilal, so brilliant, so worth the long wait.

and then ava duvernay became the first black woman nominated for a golden globe (oscar coming soon i’m sure) for best director for selma.

and between those two things, i got to attend an action called by the blackout collective in oakland, flowing together efforts for #blacklivesmatter, #blackbrunch, #asians4blacklives and others.

i wasn’t planning to attend, i was heading to the airport after a tight trip to california mostly spent in petaluma at the strozzi dojo as part of my first generative somatics teaching team. i’ve been in training building to this for two years and think the work we do is mindblowing. and it’s massive, i usually can’t do social or event time around it.

but my ride to the airport was one of my loves, alicia garza, one of the three women who dreamt up #blacklivesmatter and spoke our longing into movement. we were heading to breakfast when the news broke, oakland police department shut down. so of course we had to go skip breakfast and see what was happening because social media had us both texting in exclamations.

image
(from the blackout collective)

if you don’t know me, a while ago i was part of the ruckus society staff. going to an action in oakland is family reunion time. today’s action was beautifully familiar, and also different in ways that deserve noticing.

on the action front, oh god it was so good, i was taking in as much as i could as my tears of joy and gratitude blended with the soft cold rain. i couldn’t stop hugging people, people who were white, asian, black, latino, taking actions to assert that black lives matter. i wanted to be close to these massive hearts.

the action, from what i observed, was perfection. every entrance into the oakland police department was blockaded. the street in front of the entrance was blockaded on both ends, abundantly. the banners were stunning and clear – ‘black and breathing’, ‘complacency is consent’, and a flag flying from the OPD flagpole, held in place by a brave human who scaled it with muscle and rope, with the faces of our recent martyrs, stating once again that ‘black lives matter’.

image

the action was so incredibly powerful because it clearly centered around the messaging, leadership and visibility of young black leaders, stepping and chanting and singing and marching and fists in the air claiming historical space. the blackout collective. you know that scene in malcolm x where they march to the hospital? it was like that but with no one appearing to call out the directions, with women and queer folks and locs and fros. they seemed to move as a body, dignity head to toe.

just as clearly, allies were providing cover, taking risks, embodying solidarity. such a necessary resource when done right!

the main OPD door was held by loved ones, asian comrades, with the banner #asians4blacklives. another door was held by white allies with a banner reading ‘every 28 hours a black person is killed by a cop or vigilante’. these door blockers were locked down, a good and organized mix of risk. the streets were blocked by what appeared to be white allies, and i saw latino and indigenous leadership as well.

image

i cannot overstate how powerful the container felt, with the blackout collective and other blacks yelling ‘show me what solidarity looks like!’ and the allies on the streets and locked to the doors and guarding the base of the flagpole all yelling back ‘this is what solidarity looks like!’

i am getting chills remembering it to share with you.

here are the protocols being practiced in this ally work:

image

every time the cops moved in for arrest, a hundred devices popped up, those documenting also chanting, to be clear that there is nothing, not anything, that will go unnoticed or unseen. vigilance. a plethora of roles. an abundance of ways to be OF the moment.

i was so moved, trying to smile and say hello to old friends with so many tears in my throat. the personal difference for me was getting to attend as a black person, not in the action, not in the know. i was dressed for femme bonding breakfast and then the plane, ruby woo on my lips, trench coat, boots, suitcase.

i’ll admit here that the whole time i was at ruckus i felt out of my league, the badassery around me so thorough, and me so library-nook-nerd trying to understand how groups and people change. but i felt so good this morning, like all the right people were in all the right places. i felt beloved and held. i am a facilitator and singer and writer and healer in a movement that evolves from and advances many movements. again, not a beginning or end, but not a phase either. a move forward. it isn’t confusing. i wrote afterwards to one of my friends in the action that i felt beloved. i feel it now, that my life is precious, that my life matters. it surprises me to say this, but…it feels new.

it’s such a tender green shoot of a thing, because i am not saying this about america, where i know it will be a long long time before i feel a real mattering, a legislated, cultural mattering. i don’t expect it in this nation state structure.

no what i mean is in the smaller space of movement, where i believe we have to embody the world we long for, where so many of us have been hurt and broken hearted and ignored and disrespected and kept coming back, where so many of us have been stepped on and over and still stood up and kept finding new ways, kept offering our love to this effort to transform it all, seeing the conditioning, working not to take it personally, finding an open artery to send our love into the blood cells of revolutionary work…i mean in that place? to feel that my black queer woman facilitator thinker writer artist healer lover life matters?

yeah i need to go listen to this d’angelo and feel all my feelings. thank you oakland.

All the tears

Ocean is a bowl of salt and water
So am I
Whispering and weeping of a son or daughter
Gone to the sky
Or the dirt

No one knows for bone deep certain
Which way is up
We spin towards the sun until it hurts
We spill the cup
It stings the face to try and dam it all in
What comes to flow
It wears us out to try and grasp the edge
When it’s time to go

Goodbye, to the part of you who thinks
You see me from above
No enemy can know me without weeping in this way
In all this love

Caring for Ourselves as Political Warfare

protests and actions can give us the highest highs and the most gut wrenching terrors or deepest disappointments. in the midst of wildly inspiring actions and protests happening worldwide, there is increasing racialized violence and the urgency of trying to grab this moment, the feeling of pressing up against our edges.

i invited adaku utah, leah lakshmi piepzna-samarasinha and susan raffo to generate an offering of practices to restore us to ourselves, to recenter us on why we are here and doing this work. autumn brown and maryse mitchell-brody are developing a guide with many others for how to create a healing justice practice space.

remember, audre lorde teaches us: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

we need all of us:

    PRE-PROTEST SELF CARE TIPS

adaku

Cast a Heart Spell

HEART SPELL
Return to yourself
Light a candle
Inhale the air that surrounds you, from the soles of the Earth to the crown of the galaxies
Open your heart with breath, with life force
Feel your heart expand with the rhythms moving through you
Exhale
Inhale
See light fill all empty spaces
Awaken the tree within
Breathe your limbs tall
Your roots deep
Exhale
Inhale
Expand heart muscle even wider
Push past boundaries
Break through chains
Reach for your power
Digest its dimensions
Fill through cracks
Pulse with life
Exhale
Inhale
Deep
Deeper
Anchor yourself to the love that is you
to the love that is your ancestors
to the love that is life
to the love that can never be stolen
Radiate this truth
Strong enough to break restrictions
Exhale
Inhale
Increase the flow of love
Let each breath be a magic spell you cast upon yourself

If you will be protesting using #BlackLivesMatter, take some time to remind and align yourself with the inspiring herstory of this movement led by the brilliance of Black Queer women Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi and Alicia Garza. www.blacklivesmatter.com

Create a poster or chant that is an affirmation and embodiment of the resistance and resilience of Black People. Last week I came up with this chant/mantra I kept repeating to myself during the march:: White supremacy you tryna fuckin rule.. NO.. Black love will rise over you!

If you do not have capacity to hold up a sign during the protest, write the affirmation somewhere you can see. I often write on my palms or glove, a sticker I can place on my water bottle, a cloth patch I can safety pin on my jacket or write something on a piece of my clothing.

Pack a wellness bag for you and comrades. Ask what will sustain and take care of you and your team while you are protesting. Here are some things that I’ve learned to put in mine as I am supporting wellness for myself and community members during protests (Giving thanks to Black Cross Health collective, fellow wise comrades and my intuition for these resources!):

the National lawyers Guild number
Lots of water in a water bottle to drink and to wash of your skin or eyes if needed
healthy snacks and fruits
warm, comfortable protective shoes you can move and run in
extra warm layers if its fall or winter (gloves, scarves, hand and toe warmers)
zip-lock with bandana soaked with cider vinegar (water if nothing else). It can aid in breathing during chemical exposure
shatter-resistant eye protection
fresh clothes in plastic bag (in case yours gets contaminated by chemical weapons)
inhaler, epi-pen, insulin or other meds/healing herbs if applicable
several days of prescription medication and doctor’s note in case of arrest
protective herbs and crystals ie sage, cedar, osho root, onyx, amethyst
Nervous system tinctures: oatstraw, motherwort, lemon balm
Rescue remedy flower essence
Throat lozenges
tampons and pads
first aid kit

Check out these amazing action additional tips from the Audre Lorde Project.

Learn the language of your body and spirit. Notice how your body chooses to respond in the midst of certain people/certain places/certain types of actions/certain types of inactions/certain times of the day/certain times of the month/certain types of noise/certain types of movement. What do you notice? Does what arises bring you ease or tension? Being numb or not knowing is totally fine too and is also information about how your body is choosing to show up at that given moment. Write down, draw or remember what you discover. Affirm what is happening. Your body, spirit and intuition are such incredible guides that can support how we live. Without judgement, recognize that your body has unique ways of responding to what is happening inside and outside of you. Many of these responses have been powerful protection tools that continue to keep you alive.

Create safety and/or support plans in advance. Ask yourself and community that you trust, what will I/we do if ____________ happen? How would I/we like to be supported? Icarus Project has a great tool.

Figure out what your capacity is. Can you protest for 1 hour or 7? Are you currently recovering from illness and need to shift your form of resistance outside of the streets? Are you someone who is arrestable? If it is cold out, how long can your body tolerate the weather?

Make a TURN UP revolutionary mix tape

    SELF CARE TIPS DURING PROTESTS

adaku
Continue to remind yourself why you are there. Recite mantras, meditations or chants when you need.

Tilt your eyes up softly to meet the sun, moon or stars. Let them wash over you with their power and embrace. Feel your connection with other forms of life. Allow your breath to move in and out as slowly as a cloud morphing through the sky. Imagine your breath is pulling in the vast expansiveness of the sky, the radiance of the moon, the majesty of the sun or the consistency of the night. Let each inhale awaken the vast possibilities that exist inside and outside of you. Allow each exhale to blanket where you are with a commitment to a world you desire to live in.

Continue to listen to how your body is responding. What sensations are arising? Where do you feel them? Are these sensations telling you to slow down, eat, keep going, call your support buddy, catch up with the crew you are marching with, warm up your body, breathe deeper, walk with a different contingent, head home?

Remind yourself of a moment when you could feel your own power. Allow yourself to feel that energy all over again. Invite the presence of that power to be with you now. Feel it expand. Breathe in the textures of your truth. Send this power wherever you need it. Let each inhale carry this power as far back to your ancestors and each exhale carry it forward through you and into future generations.

If you are near a tree, with permission, sit under or place your spine on the tree. Let the dignity of the tree encourage yours to rise with every breath.

susan
Vibration vibration vibration…hum low in your throat, as low as you can go, and bring that hum down into your lungs and your chest…feel the vibration, taking a breath in when you need to breathe, and then back to vibration. Let the vibration be a small chosen shake, a rattling of what is held inside, the vibration expanding in circles from your throat out through the rest of your body

Movement. It doesn’t matter what kind, just move as you are able. Move from the inside of yourself, inviting your hands, your arms, your face, your heart, your brain to lead the movement. The movement can be small and energetic or it can be big and take up a lot of space. From inside your self, start the movement like a shooting star, sensing when it shifts direction or wants to stop.

Notice what is happening around you right now. The colors of life around you, the texture, the edges between things, the edge of a building against the street, the edge of a car wheels on the ground, a tree against the sky. Notice where there is an edge, a boundary between two things, sense into that. Let your skin feel texture around you in whatever way your skin notices texture: rough bark or cement, hot flat metal of a car, cold slickness of a window. While you are noticing, tell yourself what you are witnessing. There is a red brick building in front of me and the bricks closest to the street are crumbled. My hands can feel the bits of dust and red brick, their sharp and crumbly edges. Put yourself into whatever part of the space around you is safe enough to touch and sense. The color of it. The sound if there is sound. The taste if you can imagine taste.

    POST PROTEST SELF CARE TIPS

adrienne

with one minute or less:

breathe. take three breaths that are a little deeper. imagine the breath filling you up from the heart, more each time, till your whole body has breath.

speak a mantra or commitment that brings you back to your purpose. here are some examples:

black lives matter. (alicia garza, opal tameti, patrisse cullors)
my people are free. (harriet tubman)
all is full of love. (bjork)
love’s in need of love today. (stevie wonder)
i am enough.
black love. (BOLD and many others)
i am a practice ground for abundance/love/fearlessness/ transformation/magic
i do it! (my niece mairead)
i’ma have none of that (my niece siobhan)
i just want to talk about dragons (my nephew finn)
all that you touch you change (octavia)
I am my ancestors’ answered prayer (Leah)
I am significant (Adaku)
I am the love that I have been waiting for (Adaku)
Tell your child self: You are alive. I am alive (Adaku)
when Black people get free, everybody gets free (Black Lives Matter)
who is worth my love, my strength and my rage? (Leah saw it on tumblr on a lot of qTPOC sites)
act in a way your past, present and future self will appreciate (kyisha williams)
no one said this road would be easy/ I don’t think she brought me this far to leave me (Mango Tribe)

think of someone who you love, who you do this work for, alive or ancestor or dream. hold that thought like a rock.

keep a tincture or flower essence with you to use at these moments. i am currently loving one called ‘boundaries in a bottle‘ (from Dori Midnight) which helps immensely in my work. rescue remedy is a go to for lots of people. a few drops under the tongue can help you breathe. good fight herb co has a lovely self-love potion that is also really helpful after the battleground.

leah
I use motherwort tincture as a reliable anti anxiety aid, that also scoops me up in her arms when I’m grieving, mourning or cried out. Hawthorne and rose are great for heart hurts too.

adrienne
light a candle so the fire can transform your focus and energy. wach it for a while, or let it sit in a sacred space to release what you can’t carry.

with ten minutes

that loved one i mentioned above? spend some time thinking of them at your side, or at your back. lean on them. let them hold you. breathe into it.

meditate. with each in-breath, invite spaciousness and rest into your body and spirit. with each out-breath, release that which is not yours to carry. (some examples: ‘breathing in space, breathing out drama’. ‘breathing in sleep, breathing out white guilt’. ‘breathing in comrades, breathing out fear’. or this one from naima penniman: ‘breathe in beyonce, breathe out condalezza rice’.)

lay down flat on your back, pull your knees up to your chest, hug your knees, and rock back and forth. this gives your body a quick break, your vertebrae more space, a little massage to your hips.

pour yourself a glass of water. drink the whole thing, inviting your body to be like water, transforming to move forward.

write about what you learned at the action/protest. write it for yourself, write it to share with others.

leah
pranayamic breath, or ‘the great yogic breath’ (shout outs to nisha ahuja for teaching me) take a deep breath into your heart, and then into your belly. hold it. feel how full you are. exhale from your belly, then from your heart. repeat.

containment breath (shout outs to vanissar tarakali for teaching me): inhale into your belly. when you exhale, do it in three stages- exhale from your belly, pause, exhale from your middle chest, pause, then exhale from the top of your chest. this breath helps give a sense of containment when I am feeling overwhelmed and EMERGENCY MUST GO EVERYTHING IS AN EMERGENCY.

I also squeeze my arms and thighs and feel the bones underneath when I am overwhelmed and dissassociated- it helps me feel like there is something holding me up all the time, that I don’t have to do anything to get, and it brings me back to my body more than other anti dissassociation exercises.

Train yourself to go outside and take a short walk every couple of hours, if you are locked up by a computer. I was always telling myself “yeah, I know I should but….” and remaining glued to the computer. A recent work gig that told us all to go on quick breaks every hour showed me how much this helped my focus, for real.

with an hour

adrienne

take a nap. a timed nap so you won’t miss anything, or an untimed nap…whichever one is more relaxing for you.

exchange shoulder and neck massages with someone you feel physically safe around. use your thumbs to move up and out, imagine that stress and oppression are small knots at the top of the spine and that you can smooth them out and drop them off the edges of the shoulders.

cook yourself a meal, alone or with loved ones.

write a note of appreciation (on paper, on email, through social media) to someone (in the movement or in your circle) who you deeply appreciate right now. you don’t have to send it, but you do have to feel it.

put yourself in water – a shower, a bath. let the water remind you who and what you are. anything that feels too big, send it to the ocean.

take care of something alive and revel in the impact of that action. water a plant, change a diaper, play a game, hold an elder’s hand. small miracles grow big ones.

engage in a spiritual practice that brings you into yourself. that may be prayer, meditation, movement, song, art. ask someone to hold this space with you. others from your actions, or those who aren’t/can’t protest but are in alignment.

with two hours or more

leah
What feels good? Figure out how to do the work in ways that feel as good as possible. When Healing Justice for Black Lives Matter blew up and all of a sudden I was getting 48 FB notifications an hour- including from a million white healers I didn’t know personally, who were all eager to join in, without maybe noticing how their presence shifted what had been a majority BIPOC action- what had felt like a juicy, generative, wild freedom song action started to feel like a stress ball in my shoulders. But this time, I actually stopped and said, how do I want to do this? How do I want it to feel? I asked for help. I gave myself permission to turn off the computer for breaks. I breathed. I reminded myself, and got reminded, that it’s ok to check people and set limits! Boundaries are beautiful.

Take time for sex and cute outfits and the gender things that make your body strong and shining. My sephora lipstain and eyeliner are on purpose, they are not sidenotes, they are femme armour and blessing and allow me to teach, organize and show up. So is texting my dates and masturbation as self care.

adrienne

yes to pleasure activism. remember your body can release a lot through pleasure. be grateful for your skin, softness, hardness, nerves, mysteries, releases.

community acupuncture. let the acupuncturist know you are engaging in protests and actions, what you want to release, what you want to embody.

see another kind of bodyworker or healer. i ride for somatic bodywork and limpias, but there are so many practices that can help – craniosacral, tarot, reiki, coaching. on december 18 a lot of us are offering our healing services at a reduced rate, and/or donating all of our income to ferguson movement work. we are also offering up healing for black activist/organizers involved in these protests worldwide, not just that date, but in general. find more about both efforts here.

go to a sauna or spa or hot springs. i have a list here, they range in affordability. a lot of places have options to sit in the hot tub even if you don’t get a massage or treatment.

adaku
Continue to listen to how your body is responding. What sensations are arising? Where do you feel them? Are these sensations telling you to slow down, eat, mastrubate, call your support buddy, catch up with the crew you are marching with, warm up your body, breathe deeper, sleep?

Sit, stand or lay down in silence. Breathe in silence. In the deep quiet, find a word or phrase that needs to be spoken. On your next exhale, scream it at the top of your lungs.

Put your arm around yourself. Take a deep breath. Give yourself a squeeze. On your next inhale repeat an affirmation to your core.

Offer up gratitude to yourself, your ancestors and/or your team for protecting you and supporting your capacity to engage in this action.

Do this with someone your body trusts and feels comfortable being vulnerable and close with:: Embrace each other in a hug (Hugging stimulates an incredibly deep nervous system relaxation response). Mirror each other with each next step. Breathe in through the nose slowly and evenly until you fill your lungs to capacity. Hold the breathe for five slow counts. Breathe out through the nose, releasing the air slowly. Repeat 3 times. If you have capacity, whisper an affirmation into each other’s ear at your very last exhale.

Allow yourself to be heard by someone you trust. Call, visit or welcome someone who has capacity to hold space with you to join you where you are. As much as feels comfortable, share how you are doing and what you might need in the coming moments, days or weeks.

Make a dream pillow to support insomnia, anxiety and panic attacks. (Great recipe from mountain rose herbs).

Give yourself permission to come undone. To cry unabashedly, to laugh wildly, to whip your hair back and forth, to dance ferociously, to summon up the fiercest scream. Tap into the primal nature of your emotions. Let it stir what needs to be heard.

Suck on some honey! my favorite. If you can, mix a tablespoon of honey with a tiny tiny pinch of lavender. Both are incredible relievers of stress and anxiety and fortify the immune system. Suck slow and intentionally. Let the sweetness caress every part of your mouth.

leah

because self care is collective care is disability justice:

Lift up disabled and chronically ill folks for how much we have invented the art of collective care (because we have to live interdependently, because we know the medical industrial complex is not our friend.). Ask the crips in your life for tips first! We know how to make access and share resources on no money, we’ve been doing this for forever!

A place I always go to for disabled wisdom about collective care is this blog, which has all the thinking and all the real talk practice (access audits, how to make a spaces that’s accessible except for the bathroom accessible, and more.) Yashna’s article about collective care also never gets old. To see how we organized Creating Collective Access, a group of disabled and sick folks collectively caring for each other, at the Allied Media Conference, go here.

This blog post – about how sick and disabled and mad folks offer support to each other all the time, and how we don’t have to wait to be “healed” to offer care to each other- is really speaking to me right now.

At the same time, it’s not like sick and disabled and mad people all are a monolith or have this issh figured out either! Years ago, I was part of a group of sick and disabled qtpoc who were trying to figure out how to care for each other. My Virgo moon was all about “let’s just get the google doc going!” but another person was like, wait a second- most of us have experienced people trying to care for us in messed up ways- paternalistic, controlling, disrespecting our autonomy, all the ways people try to “help the handicapped” all the time. We need to figure out first what would even allow us to accept help. She made us journal about a time when someone offered help to us in a way that felt good and was about solidarity, not charity.

A lot of the time, I see folks go “I know I should ask for help,but it’s hard…” And that is totally real. And it’s because of ableism. Ableism, inside the white supremacist capitalist colonialist ableist patriarchy (the WSCAP), tells us that if we ask for help, we are weak, and that’s a bad thing. Most of us have lived in the world in ways where there have for real been nobody we could trust to take care of ourselves well but ourselves (on a good day.) This is embedded in everything from abuse in nursing homes to welfare cuts to jail to our families. I’ve heard politicized QPOC comrades blithely call folks who ask for help, “energy vampires” or say, “Oh her, she has issues, she’s so *neeedy.*”

So sometimes the first step you have to do in order to even feel comfortable asking for and receiving help is to unpack all that. And to start small. Make your list of the shit you could really, really use help with, and another list of the people you think would be safe to ask, and ask for the least risky thing first. See how it feels. See how it goes. Experiment.

Do an access check in before you plan an action and before you start. Ask people what they need to be in the space. Often, people have never been asked before and go “uhhhhh…” That’s fine. Start where you are. Let the needs and their brilliance shape the action. That’s actually stronger than trying to force people into a mold that doesn’t fit them.

If you’re already caring for people, but you are wrestling with feeling depleted, giving more than you can, feeling resentful- unpack that stuff too, because it’s not good for anyone.

If you are nondisabled, don’t be texting your disabled friends all the time going “See you at the barricades! Oh wait you can’t do a five mile march in the cold… oh well, take care!” That’s ableism and it’s shitty and we’re all really sick of it. Figure out ways you can do actions where you can all take part. Roll with the krip/sicko crew when we make it to the march. Ask us how and if we want your support. Re read “Wherever you are is where I want to be” by Mia Mingus

Ask your sick and disabled friends what we need to participate, in what actions, and let us steer the boat of what we want/need instead of doing what you think is good for us- we’re the experts on our own bodies and lives, trust me ;). Bring water and snacks. Offer to push a manual chair ( you can often rent them for cheap from a medical supply place or drugstore) for someone who is a cane user or someone who walks but has chronic pain who wants to be able to be on a longer march. Ask your powerchair using friend if her battery needs a charge, and help people get out of the way of her rolling, if that’s what she wants.

Hold that leaving the protest at any time someone’s bodymind is about to give out is just as radical as staying.

This is a good guide by and for disabled folks doing direct action.

Also, recognize that for some of us with disabilities and chronic illness/pain and/or madness, we may make the choice to push our bodies extra hard to be in the streets- but that we may need extra time to recover afterwards. When we shut down the port of Oakland during Occupy/Decolonize, I had to be there at 4 AM and walk 3 miles each way because the accessible busses were badly promoted and left before I got there. I’m glad I did it, but I totally went into a flare, hurt like hell and needed to sleep 12 hours afterwards. Don’t judge us for our choices or tell us what to do or that we are being irresponsible for being in the streets. Understand that we negotiate many kinds of risk in these bodies everyday, that our relationship to pain is different because we dance with her all the time, and we negotiate stretching our limits all the time. Ask us what you can to do support- if you can bring food after, or do childcare so we can rest.

adrienne
and if all else fails, read this again, because…

susan
This is power. This is power humming on this page. Reading it settles me in places where I wasn’t aware of the need for settling. Reading this makes me want to show up quietly and fiercely, to rest quietly and fiercely, and to show up again. This is power humming on this page.

adrienne
please add on more resources you know of, and please take care of yourself. we know you are precious.

black love as a radical commitment

i am writing to you from a plantation, but it might also be the future.

this space, the franklinton center at bricks, was once a place that slaves were sent to be broken in. for centuries.

and then it was a christian school in the same white charitable tradition that led to many of our historical black colleges and universities. for decades.

now it is a retreat center and, if prayers are responded to, in the most tangible manifestations, the future home of BOLD – black organizing for leadership and dignity.

reparations, soil up.

i donate facilitation time to BOLD each year because i believe it is our best chance at liberation. not just black liberation, though that would be enough. but i believe that the liberation of black people represents a realization of the human experiment, the resolution of a tension born out of our distance from the sacred truth of who we are. stardust.

we are sentient miraculous beings. on a magnificent planet, possibly the most biologically diverse planet in an apparently infinite universe, or multiverse. at least so far. who knows – as far as we have seen, we are unique.

and within this unique species, there are so many oppressed peoples.

and within that, the primary sustaining hierarchy of our planet has been that of dark skin to light skin. to be a black person on this experimental rock hurtling through space, obsessed with the sun, is a dangerous thing. in some parts of the world our children are armed soldiers. in most parts of the world our children are the hungriest of the youth. in our part of the world, we are being publicly lynched at a higher rate than ever before in our history.

all of the systems are exposing themselves as built on shaky sand, at minimum obselete. iphone 3. we developed so quickly, so quickly we gained the cultural center, and the white house. but of course we needed, as a nation, to spend a few centuries healing, holding each other, getting our breath back from how this specific nation began just yesterday. genocide and slavery are stones woven into our skirts, bruising our calves as we run, trying to escape the weight.

we need healing.

we need to stop and reconcile ourselves with existence, though nothing ever pauses in evolution. but..i am 36, and i can walk on a piece of ground where the soil still shows bloodstains from my ancestors being broken, and breaking in. slavery is a visceral presence. cotton whisps in my hair, i walk through a school house here that feels thick, like i had to push my way through spirits; young, black, hopeful spirits.

and all of that is done in this place, BOLD, where we are celebrating and cultivating black love as an organizing strategy. the three women who birthed #blacklivesmatter are of this community, not accidentally. they were not created by this community, but gathered, noticed, honored. gathered by denise perry and others, because they, we, are not interested in short tem reactionary responses to systemic violence. because we want to keep our hands on the root of the problem – the solution: black lives matter.

our black love is what teaches us that we matter.

i can’t tell you how nourishing and restorative it is to be in this space, at this time. i cannot count how many of the people said they traveled long and far because they needed to fill up at the well with black love.

because we are lovable, as lovable as anything else on this incredible and utterly unique planet. and even though our recent history includes generations of self-negating branding, physical and psychological, we have begun to love ourselves again.

some people are terrified by this, just by black people saying ‘enough’ and ‘it stops today’. they will try to suffocate us all, put bullets in us all.

but!

we outnumber the ones who feel this way. black people and those who can see us for who we are, we are the ‘overwhelming majority of planet earth’.

bold is the black power movement of our generation. the medicine we claim will heal anyone who swallows it – black lives matter.

we know black love is a radical commitment. an aspirational and healing commitment. you think you are not us, but we know you are. black love means looking in the mirror and remembering who you, and we, are.

we danced in cotton fields, we danced in the darkness of ships, we danced on the biggest continent on this magical rock.

we dance now, screaming “i can hear my brother saying i can’t breathe/now i’m in the struggle saying i can’t leave/calling out the violence of these racist police/we won’t stop the struggle til our people are free,” in new york.

dying-in in small towns.

shutting down highways from the twin cities to l.a.

and singing our ancestors’ words in north carolina.

today i was part of a circle of black women evoking harriet tubman under the guidance of sister doctor alexis pauline gumbs. she had us chant harriet’s words, ‘my people are free. my people are free.’ we chanted until we were swaying, rocking, giggling, glowing, weeping, laughing out loud.

try it. chant it till your body believes.

or june jordan’s words, ‘we are the onces we’ve been waiting for.’

or fannie lou hamer’s words, ‘nobody’s free until everybody’s free.’

or audre lorde’s words, ‘i am who i am, doing what i came to do.’

or ella baker’s words, ‘give light and the people will find the way.’

or anna julia cooper, ‘the world needs to hear her voice.’

alexis had us chanting these words, in a space where folks were contemplating emergent strategy, black love, somatics and resilience.

and what we know for sure at this point is we need each other, and we as black people need to give other black people space to be themselves completely. we have to love ourselves so no one can be confused about our dignity, our preciousness, our brilliance, our lovability.

we keep turning inwards, and back out. breath, ocean, orbits, we are the fundamental rhythm, in flesh. and as we master ourselves, it becomes impossible to serve any other master.

our numbers are massive with ghosts. we are cultivating the liberated state. we know every person killed is a fallen soldier in the greatest war ever fought – and we grieve with parents and community, and we blow on fires of fearlessness growing deep in our bellies, to take action in and through grief.

it won’t be easy, but we will find every pleasure, every sacred instance.

we know we are on the right side of history.

we choose to be the light.

a season of love (for all those killed with impunity)

it is our duty to fight for our freedom
it is our duty to win
we must love each other and protect each other
we have nothing to lose but our chains

– assata shakur

first, we must love ourselves enough to believe in the fundamental rights we have to breath, to be children, to grow up, to love and protect, to walk and play and disobey, to live until we die, not because our skin scares someone empowered by the state to kill us, but because our bodies are appropriately tired from all the living and loving we did.

we must love ourselves like spring, bursting through any containers that cannot grow with us.

i freed a thousand slaves
i could have freed a thousand more if only they knew
they were slaves

– harriet tubman

second, we must love everyone who shares this lineage of being on the dark side of white supremacy. to ferociously, obstinately, loudly and unapologetically love the majority of the planet. to be unafraid to see every black and brown person as a potential comrade. because as patrisse, opal and alicia teach us, black lives matter.

we must love like summer, storming, burning off the surface, sun and rain in the same moment, double rainbow style inspirations, wildfire alchemists.

if you come here to help me
you are wasting your time
but if you come because your liberation is bound up with mine
then let us work together

– aboriginal activists group, queensland, 1970s

third, we must love those who open themselves up against the trajectory of their lineages, who learn, who teach themselves to love us when they have been socialized not to. this means loving those who benefit from a system that doesn’t love us, but work against it in their hearts, beliefs, families, jobs, and actions.

here we must love like fall, stripped down to the spare truth with each other. let the assumptions and projections that keep us from each other be bright enough in their dying to make us gasp, and then fall away – they are illusions. the construct of race is deadly, but it is still a construct. let history give us rich soil to hibernate in – each other. we need each other. we need everyone to stand up for their own humanity in this moment, advancing the work of black lives mattering on all of our divergent front lines.

love has within it a redemptive power…there’s something about love that builds up and is creative. there is something about hate that tears down and is destructive…love your enemies.
– martin luther king, jr

and finally, especially in these moments, we must work to love those who place themselves against us as our enemies, our oppressors. this doesn’t mean forgiving without due process, or allowing to move forward without accountability and critique. in fact it is the opposite, it is loving in the highest sense – compassion.

we must learn to see that the violence they walk with is, all the time, inside of them, make them so so sick. we cannot let them slip by, killing us quietly. we must put the light on them – those images of modern day lynchings, the memories of that violence that brings us to tears, to raging in the streets…that death energy is a toxic poison of guilt festering inside of those who fear and kill us, and they in turn rot our communities, our societies.

racism is a sickness, viral in our species. and it is tricky, reducing the mind that carries it to the least viable, least sophisticated of world views. if we cannot be compassionate for violently racist people, recognizing this behavior as a sickness, we are at risk of confusing their violence and control with the power we seek to gain and share.

to be the worst of humanity is not a power, it is a trauma.
to need lies and corruption to protect your power shrinks the soul.
to be the most inhumane and racist among us and be unable to receive the balm of justice, the release of a genuine apology, the embrace of other people who feel safe in your presence – it must be unbearable. i would not wish that on any human being.

for these people, mostly white men, who are pulling these triggers…for their humanity, and for our species to move beyond this fatal sickness, i want them to feel the righteous hand of justice that comes with real love. i want them to feel the kind of justice i watch the best parents in my life offer the children i live for…’because i love you, i must stop everything right now and give you my attention, to correct you, i cannot let you behave this way, hurt yourself and me and others this way. you must apologize…do you understand what you did and why?’

this kind of love stops everything, so that the violence, the misbehavior, cannot be normalized.

this kind of love yields transformative justice, it reaches all the way down to the root, the part of the wound that is tender and swollen and full of pus and smells like the end of everything. this kind of love is not saintly, it is pragmatic. it is the nurse, midwife, doula, doctor, healer, shaman, witch, magician, neighbor, sister, friend willing to touch, clean, soothe, amputate, say spells, exorcise, journey, listen and find the possibility for healing.

and in this season, this last love feels like winter. when a loved one has to turn away from the violence and leave the violator to contemplate himself, or reach like an icy wind under the collar and through the ribs, or to shut down all the systems that allow the violator to normalize his behavior, it is a cold time.

we must freeze racism and white supremacy – armed and unarmed – out of our system, give it no place to grow. the love we offer here cannot be meted out in half measures. everywhere, winter.

we are the anomaly. our actions must be as unyielding and show stopping as that wall of snow in buffalo.

and of course we know, in the cyclical intelligence of our cells, that winter is a season of abundant nourishing for the land, water piled on top of water just waiting to be swallowed. love made visible.

when you see our rage piling up, snowballing, know that it IS our love.

we have been learning to practice love in actions of collective rage, collective redistribution of resources, and collective healing. our actions stop traffic, stop business as usual, close the schools, interrupt the speeches and the holidays – we love in ways that localize our brilliance.

we divest from the system that refuses to provide justice. we love each other by investing in each other.

join the efforts in any way you can – let’s each be clear about the things we are best at, the things which give us the particular joy that comes from being in our purpose – don’t worry, it can be multiple things. do these things as part of the larger effort for black lives.

if you are a creator, create in ways that ‘wage love’, as charity hicks taught us, that challenge small thinking and uplift black lives.

if you are an organizer or an activist, fill yourself up with righteous vision, take leadership from those most directly effected, stay hydrated, and disrupt the system at every turn. ‘turn your rage into love’, as keith cylar taught us.

if you are a parent, model and speak the message ‘black lives matter’ to your children all day, and make sure to be a presence for black lives mattering in their schools, day care, everywhere.

if you are a healer, donate a day of your work’s earnings to the efforts in ferguson (december 18 is a first day that healers will be doing this, sparked by leah lakshmi piepzna-samarasinha), or answer adaku utah’s call to offer healing to those putting their bodies on the front lines.

invest your time, money and energy into black organizing, black wholeness, black arts, black lives. this battle requires every kind of action.

and yes, some of the most direct actions may seem violent, disrupting business as usual, destroying property. think of it as survival. when someone is choking, drowning, dying, the body becomes very intelligent and willing to do anything to continue. individually and collectively, we are trying everything, and we are being brilliant, so that we, and our children, survive.

because our root cause, our root purpose, is love.

this is not the beginning, this is not the end. but this moment is ours, to ‘bend the arc towards justice’. this battle is a devastating and crucial place to be intentional about how we are showing up, what we are embodying. the superpower we need to be cultivating now is love. radical, unapologetic love.

hands up, pull it down.

#nojusticenochristmas #cancelchristmas #buyblack #blacklivesmatter #blacklove