Resource

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In the spirit of this piece (sharing poems that might be useful entry points into conversations about white supremacy) and this piece (sharing poems reckoning with #MeToo, consent, and rape culture), I wanted to pull together some poems/videos, links, and resources for people looking to start more conversations about the relationship between violence (whether that’s interpersonal/domestic violence, mass shootings, and beyond) and masculinity.

Because as the left focuses on gun control, and the right (disingenuously) focuses on mental health services, I think it’s worth considering that there’s something deeper going on. It’s also worth considering that just because that “something” is a more complex problem than a single policy can fix, that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing we can do about it.

 Reading Up: Articles and Essays
To find solutions, we first have to acknowledge the problem: there is something about the way we teach boys to be men (especially in a white, western, capitalist context) that encourages violence. When we only understand masculinity through the lenses of power, control, strength, and dominance, when our pop culture heroes are so often men (and so often violent men), when our views of “what it means to be a man” are shaped by racism and colonialism– this all helps create a culture in which violence can be committed, normalized, and even rationalized, again and again. More:

  • Don’t Blame Mental Illness for Mass Shootings; Blame Men (Politico)
  • Men Are Responsible for Mass Shootings (Harper’s Bazaar)
  • Boys To Men: Masculinity And The Next Mass Shooting (1A)
  • We will never address gun violence if we don’t address the root of the problem: masculinity (Feminist Current)
  • The Boys Are Not All Right (NYT)
  • Toxic white masculinity: The killer that haunts American life (Salon)
  • When We Talk About Police Shootings, We Need to Talk About Gender (Feministing)
  • Who Are The Majority Of Mass Shooters In The U.S.? (AJ+)
Having a Deeper Conversation: Poem/Videos
My work is about using poems as entry points to dialogue, since poems and stories are able to put a human face on issues that are, for some people, too easy to intellectualize or think about in an abstract way. With the above articles as context, my hope is that these poems can be resources for educators (or just people who want to start more conversations) to jumpstart some reflection, soul-searching, and community-building:
  • nayyirah waheed (from salt.)
    • This is the only poem on this list that isn’t a video, but it’s such a perfect entry point, one that sums up this issue elegantly and precisely.
  • Rudy Francisco: The Heart and the Fist 
    • This is a newer poem that powerfully makes the connection between gun violence and masculinity. This poem doesn’t just make that connection, though; it challenges us to see both why that connection exists and why it doesn’t have to. The link includes both the video and some further thoughts/analysis from me on the poem. (More classroom-friendly version here)
  • FreeQuency: Masculinity So Fragile
    • This is full of great lines, but also some incredibly insightful analysis.
  • Elizabeth Acevedo: I use my poetry to confront the violence against women
    • This is a TEDx Talk, but includes multiple short poems. When the national conversation focuses on masculinity and mass shootings, it’s important to keep a broader view of what “violence” means. It isn’t always headline-grabbing. It isn’t always reported. This conception of masculinity hurts people– especially women, trans people and gender-nonconforming people– every day.
  • Guante: Handshakes and Ten Responses to the Phrase “Man Up” 
    • I’m including both of these poems of mine here because they’re both explicitly about how so-called “little things” (habits, word choices, small actions, etc.) both shape and are shaped by the larger culture. Especially when we think about masculinity– our socialization starts so early, and is so insidious because those “little things,” if we don’t think critically about them, are so easy to never even understand as harmful.
  • Guante (NEW!): The Art of Taking the L
    • A poem, but also a link with a bunch MORE resources.
  • Donte Collins: Genderlect 
    • This is a great exploration of how the positive things we’re taught to think about men are so often rooted in the negative things we’re taught to think about women. Violence can take many forms– mass shootings, domestic abuse, sexual assault, any beyond– but it often starts in the same place
  • Sam Rush, Kwene, & Oompa of House Slam: My Masculinity
    • This piece could be a good introduction to talking about masculinity as a social construct, as opposed to something that is inherently/inextricably “male.”
  • Javon Johnson: Baby Brother
    • The connection between masculinity and violence includes more than just mass shootings. It’s about the violence we inflict on the people to whom we are closest, regardless of gender. It’s also about the violence we inflict on ourselves.
  • Alex Luu & Jessica Romoff: Masculinity
    • Like the previous poem, this piece explores the issue of masculinity’s connection to violence through family relationships– in this case, a father’s effect on his household.
Next Steps and Other Resources
“What we do” about this is a big question, and will shift depending on who we are, where we are, and what kinds of resources and audiences we have access to. So while “having a conversation” is not the only work to be done, it is an important starting point, and I hope the links and poems above can be useful. What follows are some examples of where people are taking this work:

As always, I’m far less interested in writing authoritative think-pieces as I am in just sharing resources and creating space for dialogue. So if you have other poems for the list, other links to share, or just some thoughts, feel free to leave a comment.

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A few months ago, Button Poetry asked if I might be interested in doing some more in-depth write-ups of a handful of poems going up on their channel. It felt like a good opportunity to shine a spotlight on some other artists, as well as share some basic critical analysis tools with Button’s (considerable!) audience. Spoken word video has, after all, really blown up over the past few years, with millions of people watching poems online, sharing them, and beginning to participate themselves. I believe this is a good thing.

What’s maybe missing, to some extent, is the space to develop some critique skills that go beyond “I like this” or “I don’t like this.” We do this in classes, workshops, and writing circles, but not everyone has access to those. We do this in informal conversations with one-another, but again, not everyone has access to those. And since there aren’t really a lot of big spoken word-focused blogs, podcasts, journals, etc. (in the same way that there are for, for example, Hip Hop, or traditional page poetry), this felt like a niche we could start to fill.

Because that process– of figuring out why we like something, or analyzing what makes a particular poem work, or being able to identify the tools and techniques being used– is bigger than just poetry. That’s about cultivating curiosity and critical thinking. Ideally, more people will begin doing this, both through Button and on their own.

For now, here are the write-ups that I’ve done. Note: Button posts a new video pretty much every day, so I’m not writing up every single one– just the ones they send me. I hope these are interesting and/or useful. Feel free to post your own thoughts, disagreements, and observations.

Dave Harris: To The Extent X Body Including its Fists Constitute “Weapons”

Sam Sax: Written to be Yelled at Trump Tower During a Vigil for The NEA

Bianca Phipps: Stay With Me

Donte Collins: New Country (after Safia Elhillo)

Hanif Abdurraqib: Watching A Fight At The New Haven Dog Park

Javon Johnson: Baby Brother

Blythe Baird: Yet Another Rape Poem

Hanif Abdurraqib: At My First Punk Rock Show Ever, 1998

William Evans: They Love Us Here

Jared Singer: Silence

Ariana Brown: Ode to Thrift Stores

Mitcholos: Cacophony

Alysia Harris: Joy

Carmen Gillespie: Blue Black Wet of Wood

Olivia Gatwood: When I Say We Are All Teen Girls

Franny Choi: Split Mouth

Billy Tuggle: Marvin’s Last Verses

William Evans: Bathroom Etiquette

Talia Young: While My Love Sleeps I Cook Dinner

Bao Phi: Broken/English

Soups: The Dark Side of Being Mixed

Ashaki Jackson: The Public is Generally Self taught and Uninformed

Rudy Francisco: The Heart and the Fist

Hieu Minh Nguyen: The Translation of Grief

Isha Camara: Loudest Burial

Bianca Phipps: When the Boy Says He Loves My Body

Suzi Q Smith: Bones

Pages Matam, Elizabeth Acevedo, and G. Yamazawa: Unforgettable

Bernard Ferguson: Love Does Not Want This Body

Muna Abdulahi: Explaining Depression to a Refugee

Kevin Yang: Come Home

Danez Smith: Trees

Guante: A Pragmatist’s Guide to Magic

EJ Schoenborn: Controversial Opinion: In Defense of Cargo Shorts

(to be continued)

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(Original post is from 2017; last updated April 2020)

RE: Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Roy Moore, Charlie Sheen, Tony Cornish, Louis CK, Dan Schoen, Donald Trump, and far too many others.

In my ongoing quest to break out of the thinkpiece cycle (where things happen in the world, and my first impulse is to write an essay to let people know “here’s what I think about THIS,” because there are plenty of other/better people doing that already), I figured I’d try to share something practical. What follows are some poem/videos, links, and resources for people trying to teach about consent, healthy sexuality, and dismantling rape culture. Feel free to add more in the comments.

One initial note, just something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: the links/resources that “work” for people who already agree with us aren’t always the ones that will “work” when trying to convince others. This is especially true with poems, which are sometimes designed to get the already-sympathetic audience to make noise. That is not to say that preaching to the choir is bad (it isn’t), or that it’s everyone’s responsibility to always be educating others (it isn’t), or that there’s a clear line between audiences who “get” it and those who don’t (there definitely isn’t). It is to say, however, that it’s important for us to be intentional when we’re trying to figure out what tool might open up a space for dialogue and growth in a particular setting.

1. A Few Poems
Clearly, “here’s a poem” isn’t going to be the best approach for every audience in every situation. But I think these videos are valuable because they focus on narrative– people telling their stories and attempting to reframe how the larger culture tends to approach these issues. A poem, followed by dialogue, can be a great entry point for deeper understanding. These poems are not my choices for “the best” poems on this topic; they’re poems that do specific work that may be useful in educational spaces:

  • American Rape Culture by Desireé Dallagiacomo & FreeQuency: This poem may be useful as an entry point into this discussion because of the sheer volume of its examples, and how it moves from those song lyrics into an exploration of the larger culture that both drives, and is driven by, those specific examples. The poem addresses the cumulative impact of rape culture, which is an important concept for people to grasp as they begin to learn more.
  • Friend Zone by Dylan Garity: I’ve always appreciated the work that this poem does, how it seems to genuinely be written for the people it claims to be speaking to. The first half of the poem “humorously” explores the “friend zone,” before the second half of the poem dismantles it by really digging into what that concept represents in terms of male entitlement, ownership, and rape culture.
  • Sons by Terisa Siagatonu & Rudy Francisco: If we can understand rape culture as a force that is fundamentally larger that individual instances of harm, more complex than just victims and perpetrators, that’s a first step toward understanding what we can actually do about it.
  • Paper Dolls by Sierra DeMulder: I’ve shared this poem a lot over the years, because it’s an example of a poem that isn’t just “about” rape culture, but has something very specific to say about it. This is a poem how our society treats survivors, what is expected of them, and how we can do better. A potential pairing with Know Your IX’s “Supporting a Survivor: The Basics” resource.
  • Unsinkable by Anna Binkovitz: In my experience having conversations about these issues with men, one hurdle that comes up over and over again is our inability to understand “violence” as anything less than literal, physical harm. This poem, through both personal narrative and extended metaphor, shows the danger in that.
  • Pigeon Man by Jamila Woods: This is a poem that addresses street harassment, but also does a masterful job exploring the idea of power, and how gender violence is rooted less in sex and more in power– and powerlessness. By talking about something very specific, the poem is able to build a case for a much bigger idea.
  • The Aesthetic of Rape Culture by Blythe Baird: Part of the value of these videos is that a lot of them use personal stories to present counter-narratives, to dispel myths. This poem could be useful in spaces where the discussion is about how the “stranger in the bushes” archetype hides the reality that most sexual assaults are committed by someone the victim/survivor already knows, including partners (especially in situations where statistics don’t tell the whole story)
  • Action by KTM/Guante: I wanted to write a poem that did two things: first, it’s a challenge to men to talk to other men about sexual assault, proactively and preemptively; second, it’s a poem that implicates all of us– rape culture is so much bigger than victims and perpetrators. It’s about how we all draw from, and contribute to, gender violence. It’s also about the power that we have– as a community– to do something about it.
  • Consent at 10,000 Feet by KTM/Guante: Specifically, the second half of this poem, which attempts to directly address the questions that come up in conversations about consent– the whole “what if” stuff and “grey area” stuff. My hope is that the metaphors help drive home what a healthy zero tolerance policy for gender violence (which includes rape, but also includes things like catcalling and other forms of harassment) might look like.
  • Finally, a separate database of poem/videos exploring the connections between masculinity and violence. To really disrupt and dismantle rape culture, we have to understand its roots; we have to understand how so much of this starts with how young men learn about masculinity solely through the lens of power, domination, and control.
Of course, there are many others. These are just a few that I’ve used in facilitated discussions. Feel free to add others in the comments.

 

2. Other Resources
These aren’t poems, but are resources that may be useful as supplementary materials.

  • To get it out of the way right away, here’s that “Consent/Tea” video that seemingly everyone uses. I think there are limits to its usefulness, particularly when it’s just shared with no followup. It may work as a first step to a deeper conversation, though, or even as a “so what was good and not-so-good about that video?” discussion starter.
  • Let’s Talk About Consent: a three-minute overview (made by NYU students) about what consent really means. It doesn’t use any clever metaphors, but it’s brief and straightforward; potentially a good followup to (or replacement for, depending on your audience) the tea video.
  • The Rape Culture Pyramid: I’ve usually seen this visual used to make connections between “small” acts/habits and the larger reality of gender violence. That’s an important connection to make, but this visual can also be a great way to begin to talk about solutions. In the same way that small acts/habits sustain rape culture, small acts and changes in habit can begin to disrupt and dismantle it.
  • Listening to What Trump’s Accusers Have Told Us by Jia Tolentino at the New Yorker: This piece is about Trump, but can very much be read as a piece about powerful men in general, and the many obstacles women face coming forward with stories of assault and harassment.
  • This Is What a News Cycle That Holds Sexual Predators Accountable Looks Like by Stassa Edwards at Jezebel: Explores the common response of “I’m just worried this might become a witch hunt.”
  • Dear Men: It’s You, Too by Roxane Gay at the NYT: On the importance of men taking responsibility for shifting the culture.
  • Mariame Kaba on Democracy Now: Makes the connection between domestic violence and mass violence: “We… tend to minimize private violence and focus on the spectacular examples of public violence. But if we don’t address that private violence, then we are going to continue to see public violence in the ways that we have.”
  • Voices of Men’s “11 Things Men Can Do:” I recently performed at their annual event, and am struck by how robust this collection of links, videos, and resources on a range of action items is.
  • From #MeToo to #WeConsented: Reclaiming the Pleasure of Consent by adrienne marie brown at Bitch Media: This is a great read, drawing together recent events with a larger exploration of consent and consent culture.
  • Chanel Miller’s victim impact statement. Miller’s memoir, “Know My Name,” is also one of the best books I’ve read in the past few years.
  • How Do We Build a Culture of Consent?: This is a project I’ve been working on; check it out both as a zine, and as a full episode of the #WhatsGoodMan podcast.

Again, there are many other good links and resources; feel free to add more in the comments, or make your own list like this.

RELATED POSTS:

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It may go without saying, but let’s say it: if you’re frustrated about our political reality on a national and international level, one of the most powerful actions you can take is to engage on a local level. Our city council and mayor (and Parks Board!) have real power to affect people’s lives. Additionally, local elections aren’t just about candidates winning and losing; they’re an opportunity for all of us to get more plugged in, and start paying closer attention to the level of government over which we have the most control. This post focuses on Minneapolis, but the same is true elsewhere. So what follows are a few resources:

1. For Those of Us Who Need More Information
Voices for Racial Justice, Pollen, and Rhymesayers collaborated on this fantastic voter guide. The guide features fairly in-depth candidate profiles, and those candidates’ answers to a range of good questions (at least for those who bothered to answer). It also has links for you to find out what ward you’re in, and how/where/when to vote. A perfect entry point, especially for new voters.

2. For Those of Us Who Haven’t Used Ranked-Choice Voting Before
As I prepare to go vote, I’m going to be sure to not just have my top choice for mayor (for example), but my top *three* choices in mind. In Minneapolis, we get to rank our top three candidates, ensuring that we can vote for whom we really want to vote, while still having fallback options. One note– this can also be used to strategically “block” candidates whom we don’t particularly like. So if there are two mayoral candidates you’re excited about, two you really dislike, and two you’re “meh” on, it may be worth choosing one of the “meh” candidates to go in your #3 slot, if only to block one of the others.

3. For Those of Us Looking for More Perspectives
Yes, there are a lot of candidates for a lot of different positions. These links may be helpful for people during their decision making process:

  • Our Revolution MN Endorsements: Some endorsements, along with brief write-ups of the candidates and links to their websites. A good place to start.
  • TakeAction MN Endorsements: TakeAction MN does a lot of good work, and their voter guide includes some picks not just for MPLS, but Saint Paul and Duluth as well.
  • MN Nurses Association Endorsements: This is just one example. If all the names on the ballot mean nothing to you, you can look up people you trust– whether that’s a politician like Ilhan Omar, a union like the SEIU, or another source.
  • Give a Shit MPLS: collective of local organizers working to get more people engaged– they have some public events coming up too, for people looking for opportunities to plug in.
  • Parks & Power Campaign: Because these Parks Board races matter, and undoubtedly won’t receive as much coverage or attention.
  • A TC Daily Planet piece from January highlighting seven candidates “because they bring, in terms of race, gender identity and sexual orientation, an unprecedented level of diversity to the 2017 elections.” 
  • Local writer Naomi Kritzer’s blog: I don’t agree with everything here, and this is just another random person and their opinions (like me), but these write-ups of all the races are deep and nuanced. They also link to more info, and bring in quotes from the various debates/forums too. Definitely worth a look, at least.
  • Wedge Live on Twitter: again, I don’t always agree with everything this account posts, but for people looking to just be more engaged with local politics, they’re worth a follow. They also sometimes live-tweet candidate events, which is always helpful.

A Personal Note
As a ward 1 resident, I’ve already publicly endorsed Jillia Pessenda, felt great about it at the time, and actually feel even better about it with every passing day, watching this race play out. I’m definitely encouraging my neighbors and friends in the ward to check out her platform and vote.

In the other races, I could give a million shout outs, but I feel like the endorsement links above are pretty clear as to which way a lot of progressives are leaning. Jeremiah Ellison‘s campaign has been inspiring to watch. Andrea Jenkins is a local legend. One campaign that didn’t get as many endorsements but should be on people’s radars is Ginger Jentzen in ward 3; I don’t know all the ins-and-outs of that race, but I know Jentzen has done some great work. But I said I wasn’t just going to list shout-outs; sorry. Lots of good people running, all over the city. Which is exciting, and doubly exciting in a city with ranked-choice voting.

As for mayor, I’m still learning about the candidates and digging into their platforms. I know Ray Dehn will be a top choice. He’s had– at least from what I’ve seen– the best answers to the questions in the voter guides and at live forums. I also really respect a lot of the people putting in work for him; and with local elections, relationships matter. I’ve also heard a number of people lately praising Nekima Levy-Pounds‘ affordable housing plan, which is worth a read no matter how you plan on voting.

We have a few weeks (or less, if you plan on voting early) left. If you’re just diving into this, I hope these links can be useful. If you already know how you’re voting, I hope you can get involved with a campaign and support your people. Feel free to add other thoughts or resources as comments.

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EDIT: the fundraiser was successful! Thanks to everyone who pitched in. Stay updated here.

image credit: hclou | #hclouart


MPD150 is a community-based initiative challenging the narrative that police exist to protect and serve. By researching the Minneapolis Police Department’s history, reviewing current practices, and mapping responsible alternatives, we are committed to pursuing a police-free future. 

With that headline, I’d imagine that the people I’m in touch with will have one of two reactions:

  1. “Cool; I’ve been looking for more opportunities to support this work in a concrete way.”
    (or)
  2. “What? We need the police; I agree that reforms are needed too, but that’s too much.”
For the former, thank you. Please donate between now and 9/18; this group is gearing up to do some great work, both on a research/policy level and on an arts/narrative-shifting level, and every dollar counts.

For the latter, please read the “Frequently-Asked Questions” section on the website. These FAQs do a lot to address the most common arguments as to why police abolition is too radical, too unrealistic, or too dangerous. Of course, you may still have questions or disagreements after reading it; that’s good. The website also has a great resources list, featuring free, immediately-accessible readings that dig a little deeper into the concept.

This campaign isn’t just about researching and pushing specific policy points related to budgets and community resource allocation; it’s also about asking all of us to think bigger. To ask more critical questions. To imagine something better. I don’t expect everyone to know to jump on board 100% right away; I’m just asking people to have an open mind. Explore the website, dig into the readings, and get involved, if you are so moved. There’s more on the way!

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EDIT (8/5/19): This was originally posted in 2017 and was focused on Charlottesville, but I’ve since added even more resources to this list, and broadened the scope to disrupting and dismantling white supremacy in general. That’s work that has to happen early, and teachers can play an important role.

Confederate statue in Durham torn down; image from here.

At the top of this week, the Washington Post published this piece by Valerie Strauss: The first thing teachers should do when school starts is talk about hatred in America. Here’s help.

Update: a couple other good links:

Those links contain more links to resources, readings, and lesson plans, and may be a good place to start for educators who know that current events matter, and that not talking about Charlottesville makes a statement to your students that’s just as loud as any conversation or critical exploration.

In that spirit, and because my background is in using spoken word as a tool for narrative-building and opening up spaces for authentic dialogue, I wanted to share a few poems that have been on my mind lately. As always, list-making is tricky. This is not a list of the “best” poems about this topic, or even a list of just “poems about racism.” This is a list of poems that might be useful for educators looking for artistic work that can prompt some critical thinking about hate, white supremacy, and the recent events in Charlottesville.

I’m also thinking about this list in terms of what work needs to be done in educational spaces. Understanding the motivations of– and contextual factors that cultivate– white supremacists is one angle, but so is making connections between the explicit hate espoused by neo-nazis and the more subtle, implicit ways that white supremacist ideology pops up in everyday life. I think these poems, in different ways, explore those connections. Maybe we shouldn’t need personal, human stories to create empathy, to illuminate that other human beings matter. But they can be tools for that, when it’s called for. These poems also use metaphor, symbolism, narrative, and other tools to push the listener beyond the notion that racism is just “people being mean to each other because they’re different.”

Of course, not every poem is appropriate for every audience. Be sure to review before presenting, both in terms of language/accessibility stuff and relevance. Also of course, “talking about racism” is a first step, not a last one, and we should challenge ourselves to find ways to embed anti-racist approaches and policies into our schools and institutions in more concrete ways as well.

Joseph Capehart – “Colorblind”
This poem uses humor to open up space for a powerful critique for the very common idea that “not seeing color” is the answer to racism. “You want to strip me clean; bleach away the parts of me that make you uncomfortable… when you say ‘colorblind,’ you are asking me to forget.”

Storytelling can communicate information in ways that facts and statistics can’t. In this poem/TEDx Talk, Jared Paul simply tells five stories from his life that illustrate how whiteness works in context, even for people who would not consider themselves privileged.
Guante – “How to Explain White Supremacy to a White Supremacist”

I wanted to write something about how “white supremacy” is bigger and more insidious than just literal white supremacists marching around with torches. But this is also about highlighting the *connection* between those people and the everyday acts/attitudes/policies that make them possible. Pushing back has to happen at multiple levels too– denouncing and disrupting specific acts of terror, but also uprooting their worldview in the classroom, the office, the church, the comment thread, the home, and everywhere.

Patricia Smith – Skinhead
A classic poem that seeks to explore the motivations of hateful bigots, without ever making excuses for them. There’s so much in here about empathy (in a critical sense), perspective, and what lenses people use to see the world.

Kevin Yang – “Come Home”
This poem is warm, funny, and approachable, using empathy-generating personal stories to make a larger point about xenophobia, the refugee experience, and finding home. “Call me Hmong before you call me American, because Hmong is the closest word I know to home.”


This poem is heartbreaking. Sad poems can be useful when crafting activities or discussions focused on walking in someone else’s shoes. “Year after year she makes flowers bloom in the hood, petals in the face of this land that doesn’t want her here.”

Talking about racism involves *talking* about racism, and this piece has always been a favorite of mine because of how it illuminates how those conversations so often go. It’s absurdist, and even funny, but it points to something deadly serious and can be a useful entry point for talking about how we talk about racism.

Anthony McPherson – All Lives Matter (1800s Edition)
I can’t think of a better deconstruction of the excuses and rationalizations that white people use to distance themselves from white supremacy. Obviously, this won’t work for every audience, in every situation, but it can be a very powerful exploration of how rhetoric can be used to mask racism.

Another piece that uses juxtaposition and humor to highlight the absurdity of how white supremacy is, and isn’t, talked about in the US.

William Evans – “They Love Us Here”
Students sometimes struggle with the notion that tokenism, “positive” stereotypes, or other forms of “benevolent racism” are harmful. Even well-meaning people can contribute to a white supremacist society. This poem can be an entry point into that conversation.

Carlos Andrés Gómez – “12 Reasons to Abolish C.B.P & I.C.E”
So much white supremacist terrorism takes root in xenophobia and anti-immigrant hate. This poem can be a first step toward interrogating that.

Denice Frohman – “Borders”
Yet another poem showcasing the power of storytelling; this is a poem that might have different things to say to different audiences- but they’re all valuable.

Aamer Rahman – “Reverse Racism”
I’m cheating here since this isn’t a poem; it’s just really good. One reason we talk so much about “racism” in the US rather than “white supremacy” is because racism can be (incorrectly) framed as attitude. And anyone of any identity can have a bad attitude. But white supremacy is about power. It’s about history. And this short video illustrates that perfectly.

    Hope those can be useful; feel free to share more in the comments. 

    Of course, these are all for sparking dialogue, because dialogue matters. But action also matters. Whether it’s a classroom full of high-schoolers, a book club, a discussion group in a church basement, or some other setting, what matters is how we translate these discussions, these epiphanies, and these feelings into action. That’s another post, but hopefully, there’s something here that can be a useful start.

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    ***UPDATE: Give-a-Shit-MPLS’s website is now live, and it’s a one-stop shop for caucusing info.***

    A few months ago, I worked with designer Olivia Novotny to create these zines, compact guides to plugging into activism and movement-building efforts. We’ve given out hundreds of them already, and I think the reason they’ve resonated with people is because they explicitly try to focus less on the power we don’t have, and more on the power we do.

    One vital part of that power-leveraging process is local politics. Here in Minneapolis, 2017 is a big year for city council races. I thought I’d share some resources related to that here, both so that my fellow MPLS people can get plugged in, and to look at our local races as one example of how important local politics are, wherever you live. A few points:

    1. Acknowledging the Opportunity: Why This Year?
    Of course, in a perfect world, we’d all always be engaged with city council, school board, parks commission and mayoral races. After all, they affect our everyday lives as much as what happens in Washington or our state capitols, and are often decided by relatively tiny vote margins. Local races are a power bottleneck, and we can do an enormous amount of good by paying attention to them.
    This year, largely because of Trump and all of the fear, disillusionment and outrage that so many feel right now, more and more people are seeing local politics as the first vital step in pushing back. Progressive mayors and city council members are positioned to be a powerful line of defense against what happens on a national level, and can also do some proactive good on their own.
    On top of that, we have some very sharp, committed, progressive people running in Minneapolis this year, not to mention a more diverse group (along multiple lines of identity) than ever before. This is a great opportunity to play offense, so-to-speak, and not just defense.
    2. Knowing the Basics: Wards and Caucusing
    First things’s first: Minneapolis has 13 wards, so find out what ward you live in at this link. Just enter your address. And remember– we don’t have to be experts on every candidate running in every ward; if you figure out what your ward is, researching the candidates there should be pretty easy.
    Caucuses are part of the process to decide the DFL endorsement, and are on April 4, 2017. This isn’t the actual election, but in a place like Minneapolis (where there won’t be any big GOP challenges to DFL candidates– though there can be Green and Socialist candidates on the November ballot), it is an incredibly important step. One easy action step, right now, is to hold that date in your calendar, and commit to showing up. As one guide to caucusing puts it:
    • Our democracy is shaped as much by caucuses as it is by votes. Yes, we elect (indirectly or directly) candidates and pass issues by our votes, but the candidates we vote for, and the issues we vote on, are determined by the caucus, and the participation in that process is woefully small.

    3. Getting Informed: A Few Links
    One obstacle to getting involved is that a lot of us (myself included) don’t always have any idea what’s actually going on at the local level of politics. So I wanted to signal boost some great links that contain more information on candidates and races:

    4. Taking Action: Concrete Ways to Get Involved

    A few potential entry points for people who want to get involved:
    • NOC is having a North MPLS caucus training on March 18.
    • Our Revolution MN is having a caucus training on March 20.
    • It’s not just about city council; check out MPLS Parks and Power, and their March 25 pre-caucus check-in.
    • Rock the Caucus arts event on April 1. A certain local MC/poet you may have heard of might be performing.
    • City-wide precinct caucuses are on April 4. That link lets you know where your caucus location is, once you’ve entered your address.
      • Additionally, if you find a candidate you like, they will probably have opportunities to volunteer, door-knock, or help out in other ways (and, as always, donations make a difference!). With caucuses just a couple weeks away, now is the perfect time to dive in.
    I wrote this just because I didn’t see anyone else compiling this info in a central place. If I missed something– or missed any good link or resource– please feel free leave a comment.

    Image for social shares:

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    image credit: the normal coalition

    (A conversation between me and UyenThi Tran Myhre originally published at Opine Season.)

    KTM: In arts spaces, we talk a lot about the importance of creating catchy “hooks,” capturing an enormous, complex concept in an easily-digestible soundbite. “We Are the 99%,” for example, is a good hook. “Black Lives Matter” is a good hook. “Water is Life” is a good hook. I’m thinking about all of this in the context of what I would say is this past month’s big hook: “This Is Not Normal.”

    UTM: I keep seeing and hearing reminders that “this is not normal,” from tweets, to buttons, to my friends and colleagues repeating it to themselves and to each other. When I open my social media feeds, the headlines and sentiments are full of anger and fear – the latest Executive Order from Trump, stories of real humans being harmed by those orders, and the reminders: “It’s only been one week.” “He’s doing what he said he would do.” “This is not normal.”

    KTM: Even though we have to acknowledge that “normal” has meant different things to different people over the history of this country, and that there’s a certain measure of privilege in seeing what’s happening right now as a crisis (when various communities have been in crisis long before Trump), I get why the phrase works as a hook. “This is not normal” affirms multiple things: that we’re living in an important historical moment, that people who agree are not alone in their frustration or anger, and that we, as a community, are not going to be lulled into complacency, assuming that our institutions will “save” us. From the Muslim ban, to the border wall, to having a white supremacist like Steve Bannon at the highest levels of power in this country, it’s on all of us to push back.

    UTM: I’m definitely cycling through feelings of hopelessness and despair, fatigue and sadness, anger and wanting to take action. I keep thinking of that Mr. Rogers quote: When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.

    There are a lot of people who care that this is not normal. It helps me to think about what we can do next – what can we do about it?

    KTM: Exactly – and I’m thinking that it’s not just about taking action; it’s about taking action that reflects the “abnormality” of the times, action that is fundamentally different, or deeper, or more challenging, than whatever action we’ve taken before. We’ve seen people who have never called their reps before call their reps. We’ve seen people who have been uncomfortable with the idea of direct action, or protest that is “disruptive,” come around to the necessity of these kinds of actions. For activists, this is a real base-building moment. For people who don’t identify as activists (or haven’t in the past), this can be a moment of realization: since things are not normal, our responses can’t be either.

    UTM: I know a lot of people who have never shown up to a rally before march in the Women’s March, and go to protests over the weekend to resist the #MuslimBan. There’s this great Twitter thread from Sarah Jaffe, who reminds us that these protests didn’t come out of “nowhere,” but are in fact borne out of organizations that have been planning rapid responses to deportations and bans. This was really helpful framing for me, because I see a lot of people who automatically dismiss protesting as a way to force change, as well as folks who seem to think that “spontaneous protests” are the only thing that we are doing to resist. As Sarah Jaffe concludes in her thread, “If you want to stop Trump, it’s going to take organizing. Join orgs, support them, sign up for email & text blasts.”

    KTM: Of course, we all come to activism at different times, from different angles, and I think it’s cool to see both the most hardcore organizers and the most previously apolitical people challenging themselves right now, in different ways. There are so many levels to this. For some people, “action” might be dramatic, like moving to a swing state, changing careers in order to do more social justice-oriented work, or even (for people in positions of authority) refusing to obey unjust orders. For others, it could be a combination of smaller actions.It could be using Lyft instead of Uber, and using unionized cabs when possible. It could be about using a worksheet like this to commit to regularly reaching out to your representatives. If you have the capacity to do so, it could also be about confirming what percentage of your income you can set aside to support the organizations doing so much right now (from the ACLU, to Planned Parenthood, to the Council on American-Islamic Relations, to many more), not just through one-time donations, but through regular, ongoing support.

    UTM: Right. I’m making a point to schedule donations to local organizations that I support, like Neighborhoods Organizing for Change, the Young Muslim Collective, and The Yarn Mission. As someone who is supremely introverted, I know my strengths are in working with the people I know, in my own spheres of influence. I don’t consider myself an organizer, but I take comfort in the fact that there are organizers out there who are taking concrete actions to resist, and I can support that in different ways. I might not have the physical or emotional bandwidth to attend every rally or march, and at the same time, I know that there are so many ways to make a difference, to feel like I do have the power to do something. Beyond monetary contributions, what else can we do?

    KTM: Yes; defaulting to “donate money” can be harmful when so many people just don’t have the economic security to do that. But there’s always something that can be done. Signal boosting activists through social media channels is good. Talking to people in our circles is good. Showing up (whether physically or in other ways) to marches, rallies, and actions is good. But I keep coming back to that phrase: “This is not normal.” I’m curious: for you, how does that realization impact your response? Do you see your work shifting in order to reflect the “not normal-ness” of the times?

    UTM: I work with some really dedicated, passionate, and creative people. We started writing “gratefuls” on post-its, that are saved in a journal, at the end of every weekly staff meeting. The “grateful” is a specific moment, or idea, related to our work. It’s from research that shows that taking a moment to intentionally think about gratitude can have a positive impact on our lives. In these times, I think what would also have a personal, positive impact on my life would be adding a weekly commitment to my routine and sharing that commitment with a partner, to help me stay accountable. I have access to spaces where I can help others do this, as well, from my family, to my college roommates, to my peers. I definitely need to keep telling myself that this is not normal, and I know I will feel more hopeful/less helpless if I can be actionable in how I respond in this not-normal time. What about you, considering your role as an artist and educator, and the platforms and spaces that you have access to?

    KTM: I wrote about a lot of what I’m thinking in my column last week on how art and artists can support movement-building efforts. But one thing that this conversation is making me think more about is how best to get past the “bubble effect.” If “normal” for me is just creating art that I think is cool, that gets heard by my friends and peers in my city, these not-so-normal times might be a good excuse to think more critically about audience – not just in terms of the art itself, but how it’s distributed, where it’s performed, how much it costs, and how people plug into the experience beyond just being passive listeners.

    Like you, I’ve also been thinking a lot about routine. For so many of us, especially those of us with a little bit of economic security or privilege, the daily routine can be really hard to break out of. And I think we need to. For me, that means looking at my to-do list and challenging myself to see the stuff that isn’t on there, because it isn’t a specific action item – the more ambitious projects, the collaborative opportunities, etc. Because it’s so easy – for me at least – to say “yeah, I’m doing good work,” when “doing good work” should be a beginning, not an end. “This is not normal” shouldn’t just be an affirmation; it should be a call-to-action.

    UTM: It can be both. Millennial that I am, I found an affirmation and a call-to-action on Twitter that I’ll be repeating to myself, from Valarie Kaur: So what do we do now? Remember the wisdom of the midwife: “Breathe.” Then “Push.”

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    A nice photo of me, but look at the writing on the board. These aren’t conversations I ever had in traditional arts education spaces, and I think they’re ones that we need to have.

    (originally published at Opine Season)

    In my inbox right now, I have invites to four different panel discussions on the role of art and artists in the age of Trump. I’m sure they’re happening all over the country, so I wanted to share a few thoughts.

    I’ve written a lot about the relationship between art, artists, and movement-building. It would be inaccurate to say that that conversation is more important now than it was last year, or ten years ago—things were urgent and scary before Trump too—and artists have always been part of social and political movements. But I also want to recognize that for a lot of people in my community, this feels different. Maybe it shouldn’t, and maybe some of us should interrogate that feeling. But, if nothing else, this could be an opportunity to have a deeper, more critical conversation about the role of art and artists in resisting fascism, supporting our communities, and building a movement for justice.

    So I’m revisiting some of that earlier work, and trying to work out—for myself, and for anyone who might be interested—what a responsible artistic practice looks like in this particular historical moment. I also want to recognize that art has multiple functions, and that it isn’t productive to attempt to hold everyone to the same standards. So what follows is much less five powerpoint-ready commandments or magic keys and much more just questions that I’m trying to ask myself in 2017 and beyond.

    1. How Do We Come to Terms with the Fact that There Is No “Neutral?”

    Let’s be clear: the attitude of “I’m just going to do my thing and leave politics to the politicians” is an attitude that supports the status quo. And the status quo is unacceptable. Art impacts people, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Artistic protest matters, and so does the lack of artistic protest. Fascists don’t need us to join them; they just need us to not talk about fascism.

    For those of us who already engage with social and political issues (or those of us for whom these issues are inextricably bound to our identities), this is easy; for those of us who do not, sure, it’s more of a challenge. But I’d rather frame that challenge as an opportunity, rather than a burden. As the rest of this list will explore, that opportunity is bigger than just writing “message songs.” We can think more holistically about what “being engaged” means—but we have to be engaged.

    News came in this week that Trump might finally be able to achieve something that the GOP has wanted for years—defunding the NEA and other federal support for the arts. It’s important to note that federal funding for the arts is already a beyond-minuscule part of the budget, so these kinds of efforts are much less about saving money and much, much more about making a symbolic statement about dissent.

    Conservatives want to shut artists up, because artists present counter-narratives that challenge the status quo. With all of this happening in the background, this means that we need to dissent. We need to keep sharing our stories and counter-narratives, and we need to fiercely challenge the status quo.

    2. How Can We Know Our Strengths, While Also Acknowledging Our Weaknesses?

    Art is powerful—it moves larger conversations, provides frameworks that can lead to a deeper understanding of the issues, inspires and provides emotional support, educates and challenges, reaches audiences that politicians and activists can’t always reach, and much more.

    But art alone won’t defeat fascism. It won’t protect our families and neighbors from ICE, or police violence, or defunded schools, or banks foreclosing on homes, or hate crimes. If we really want to tap into the power of art, I think that we have to be realistic about its limitations too. Now is not the time for disconnected, love-and-light proclamations about how “all we need is more poetry” or whatever.

    Because we do need more poetry, but I’m less interested in art as some mystical force for change, and more interested in the power that art can bring to bear when it is organically, intentionally integrated into movements. I believe that progressive change is the result of organized activist movements. So how might we, as artists, break out of our arts community bubbles and engage in meaningful, concrete ways with the activists and organizers doing the everyday work of building these movements? Again, for many artists, this is simply how they already operate. For others, though, it takes some extra intentionality and effort. See next point.

    3. In What Ways Can We Think ‘Beyond the Benefit?’ What Do We Have to Offer Beyond Our Art Itself?

    Related to the previous two points, I want to link to this piece I wrote last year: “Beyond the Benefit: Ten Ways Artists Can Help Build and Support Movements.” An excerpt:

    I believe that as artists, we have more to offer than our art. I’m not asking artists to take leadership roles in social movements they may or may not know much about. I’m also not asking anyone to radically change their style or preferred subject matter, or to be someone that they’re not. I’m just saying that artists occupy strategically useful spaces in our communities, and have access to resources and networks that can really help movements grow. In a perfect world, we’d all get directly involved in activist campaigns, but I know that reality doesn’t always allow that to happen. So I’m trying to think of spaces of synergy. We can cheerlead stuff when it happens. But we can also use our platforms to help make stuff happen.

    4. How Might We Take Both Process and Product More Seriously?

    Of course, every artist is invested in some measure of “process” (with whom we work, our guiding philosophies, the journey that the art takes on its way to being released, our own personal growth as artists, etc.) and some measure of “product” (a critically-acclaimed album, a viral video, a profitable book, etc.). I hope this isn’t a radical statement, but I’d like to encourage myself (and others, if this applies to you as well), to think more critically about both this year.

    Because process matters: being an artist can’t just be about capitalist transactions, and what we do has so much value beyond how many views or likes it gets. Let’s be more intentional about the community we build, the support we offer one another, and our own mental/physical health as we create. Let’s affirm, once and for all, that identity matters, that power and positionality impact our access to resources and audiences, and then act accordingly—opening up new spaces, supporting new distribution models, and engaging in more effective, symbiotic collaborations.

    But product also matters, at least if we are invested in creating art that impacts other people. If you’re not, that’s perfectly valid; art can be about the joy that you get from making it, or having fun with your friends; maybe your art and your activism exist independent of each other. But for those of us who do strive to create transformational art, I believe that now is a good time to start taking certain elements of the process more seriously, in order to create a more effective product.

    • Are we throwing that big concert just to say that we threw it, or are we creating a space of intentional growth and transformation, a space where people can connect not just to ideas and emotions, but to organizations and other human beings too? Are we putting in the work to make sure people actually show up?
    • Is our work community-oriented, or does it just *look* community-oriented in a grant application?
    • Is that song or poem that we poured so much of ourselves into done once it’s released, or are we willing to put in the work to ensure that it reaches people? Numbers aren’t everything, but they are something.
    • Who is our audience (target, likely, ideal)? What are we attempting to share with them? How do our own identities impact the kind of message we can/should share with them?
    • In our quest to honor process, are we creating products that, on a basic level, just don’t move people? Where is the balance? How are we– as poets, musicians, visual artists, dancers, and beyond– taking our craft seriously and striving to improve?

    I don’t have answers to these questions, but I am trying to keep them in mind.

    5. How Do We Survive? How Do We Thrive?

    This tweet from Trungles really stuck with me, because it captures so much of what we’re talking about here.

    Artists are people. The archetype of the “starving artist” is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Both concrete policy and the resulting cultural frameworks about the role of art in society contribute to the mythology of artists as eternal sufferers, who create art not in spite of that suffering, but because of it.

    And of course, great art can come from anger, frustration, sadness, and cynicism. But it can also come from joy. It can also come from having the personal security to just sit down and create, without worrying about being able to keep the lights on. It can also come from existing within a community that values the arts, and makes that value concrete by shifting institutional policy to support and develop artists– whether through defending art programs in schools, supporting local artists by paying them what they’re worth, increasing the reach/inclusivity of grant programs, and beyond. As artists, we don’t have to just passively hope that we can benefit from this stuff; we can take a more active role in making it all happen.

    Artists are people.

    That phrase relates to the previous point, but it also relates to the larger idea here of artists in relationship with movement-building efforts. As Bertold Brecht said, “Art is not a mirror held up to reality but a hammer with which to shape it.” We have agency. We are not just witnesses. Our work is not just to document the struggle, but to actively support it– with our art, sure, but with whatever other force we are willing to bring to bear as well.

    These are all just preliminary thoughts. This is a process, after all. Feel free to leave a comment below.