activism

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An image released by border patrol showing the McAllen, Texas detention facility; source.

This whole post is a writing prompt.

First, some background, since while everyone on my social media is already talking about this, I know that isn’t the case everywhere. And this is an issue we all need to know about:

  • Inside look at Border Patrol facility in Texas housing hundreds of children (CBS)
  • Trump Again Falsely Blames Democrats for His Separation Tactic (NYT)
  • ‘America is better than this’: What a doctor saw in a Texas shelter for migrant children (Washington Post)
  • Trump and the Baby Snatchers (NYT)
  • Alida Garcia’s Twitter thread sharing organizations to donate to and ways to get involved.
  • More links and action ideas in my post from last month
  • “A thread of things we can do.”
These are policies that demand a response. And because one thing I’ve learned from organizers is “know your lane and identify what power you have in it,” I wanted to zoom in and share a few thoughts specifically about what that response might look like when it comes from poets, MCs, musicians, and other writers. As always, nothing here is prescriptive, or will apply the same way to every individual. But for those who are interested in how artists (especially poets) might respond to the present moment, I wanted to at least spark some dialogue:

A Few Thoughts on Writing “Political” Poetry
I want to be precise with that phrase: “political” poetry. There’s a much longer post one could write about that label and how it gets applied to all kinds of poetry, how the act of creation can be inherently political, and how the identities that we hold impact how audiences hear our work as “political” or not. For this post, I’m talking about poems that intentionally, explicitly engage with specific political issues. 

Also, these are thoughts on one particular angle of that process. I’m not including some of the more general stuff that we often talk about in workshops (like the power of storytelling, or using concrete vs. abstract language, or thinking critically about structure, etc.), but you can find some of that here. 

1. Speak Up, but Speak with Intentionality
Fascism thrives on silence, on people seeing something awful, shrugging their shoulders, and assuming it’ll all just work out. So yes, we need to speak up. We need to use whatever platforms we have to spread the word about what’s happening. But just because silence is unacceptable, that doesn’t mean that running around screaming is the answer. So research. Read. Listen first.

The next three points all kind of revolve around a deeper question of who should write about what in the first place. There are valid arguments to be made about how it can be problematic when, for example, white people write about racism, or men write about sexism– just in general, no matter how “good” the writing is. That’s maybe a longer post, but the point I’m trying to make here is largely a contextual one: when we’re talking about creeping fascism, it’s going to take as large a chorus as we can muster to push back; it’s just that that speaking up process needs to be done carefully and intentionally. It’s hard. It’s very easy to do poorly. Figuring out how to do it well takes experience, and community, and critical self-reflection, but it is possible. The next few points offer a few thoughts on that.

2. What is Your Story to Tell? How Does it Connect?
Not every poem about war has to be from the perspective of a soldier. Not every poem about human trafficking has to be from the perspective of someone being trafficked. These may be the easiest entry points, and some writers can indeed speak from those perspectives because they have the life experience to back it up. But not everyone does– and part of being a writer is figuring out how to speak up without speaking for or over others. What identities do you hold? What is your story? How does it connect to the issue you’re writing about? It may or may not be an obvious connection.

This can be as simple as: rather than writing about what it’s like in a camp set up for children separated from their parents at the border, you write about the moment you read that story in the newspaper– where are you? What is your body’s reaction? What does it make you think about? You still get to signal boost the information and spread the word, but you’re telling your own story. And sure, a poem about reading the newspaper may not be super engaging; but that same basic framework can be pushed into more creative places.

3. Make Appropriate Connections
One reason why poetry is valuable is because it’s a space where we can connect ideas and experiences that don’t always get connected. That process of juxtaposition can highlight new truths about those ideas and experiences. For example, I wrote a poem about my family, Japanese internment, and the current refugee crisis; it’s not a one-to-one, linear relationship between issues, but there are important historical and contextual connections we can make to help us understand what’s going on.

While this relates to the previous point about figuring out how your story intersects with the issue you’re writing about, it also highlights a potential danger: not every connection is appropriate. For example, a poem that compares being bullied for wearing glasses to slavery or the Holocaust would not be appropriate. That’s an extreme example, but more subtle examples pop up all the time. The point here is that there’s a way to make connections without saying “X is exactly like Y” or “I fully understand this horror because I experienced this other thing.” When in doubt, ask others for feedback.

4. Find an Angle
Building on the previous two points, this is a note about how we approach the poem. A lot of poems are basically built around the phrase “here’s what I think!” and while it is possible to work with that, a laundry list of thoughts isn’t always the most effective start. How else might you approach a poem about a specific issue? How can you write about something from a fresh angle? What concept or structuring impulse might help the poem “stick” in people’s heads?

Maybe it’s about filling in some historical context that people don’t know about. Maybe it’s about zooming in on one specific detail of the larger story in order to comment on the bigger picture. Maybe it’s about that aforementioned process of exploring how the issue affects you and your personal experience. Maybe it’s about leaning into magical realism, satire, or hyperbole to challenge people to see an issue in a new light. Maybe it’s an open letter (especially to someone the audience doesn’t already expect). Maybe it’s a poem that incorporates a specific call to action.

5. Think About What the Audience Walks Away With
This may be a controversial point, but I think it’s at least worth considering. Of course, you never have to think about what the audience walks away from a poem with, but with political poetry, you might want to. This is not to say that every poem has to be inspirational. This is not to say that every poem has to have one specific action item at the end. It’s a broader call for more intentionality.

For example, someone could write a poem about how the phrase “tearing children from their parents is unAmerican” is actually ahistorical, since this country has done just that at many points throughout history. But there’s a difference between a poem that makes that point in order to show how smart the poet is, and a poem that makes that point in order to deepen the audience’s commitment to doing something about that.

Another example: someone could write a poem about fascism and authoritarianism, and how they’re creeping further and further into US culture, policy, and politics. That could be the whole poem– “fascism is here and it’s bad.” But there’s an opportunity there to push the audience further. The poem could be “fascism is here, it’s bad, and here’s what we can do about it.” The poem could be “fascism is here, it’s bad, and I’m thankful to the thousands of activists who are pushing back every day.”

Art can be anthemic without being corny. It can cultivate hope without having a neatly-wrapped happy ending. It can call us to action without presenting platitudes and easy answers. That’s all part of the challenge: art can inform, but it can also mobilize. Both are good, but the latter has a special power.

6. It Doesn’t Have to Be a Poem
Just a quick final note that as artists, we can still use our platforms to talk about these issues even if we’re not able to figure out a good way to talk about them in our actual artistic work. Get involved on the ground, show up, signal boost, perform at fundraisers, and make noise. A few expanded thoughts on that here.

Feel free to add more in the comments.

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This past week, news broke that the US government is “now systematically taking children as young as 53 weeks old away from their parents at the border, thanks to new directives issued by the Trump administration” (link).

There’s always bad news in the world, yes. And we can argue all day about what constitutes “uniquely” bad news, or “major” shifts in already-harmful policy. We can (and should) talk about how immigration policy in particular has been a bipartisan travesty, and not solely a result of Trump. We can (and should) talk about how separating children from their families as a matter of law has happened before in this country.

But let’s at least agree that this is bad. This is wrong. This is one of those “if you had been alive when (historical injustice) happened, what role would you have played?” moments. This is connected to larger trends. And we have a responsibility to do something about it. So what do we do?

I want to share a few links and resources here, partly informed by my TEDx Talk (which was about the power of taking big, overwhelming issues and “zooming in” on them to create specific actions), and partly by this quote from Mariame Kaba (@prisonculture on Twitter):

Questions I regularly ask myself when I’m outraged about injustice:
1. What resources exist so I can better educate myself?
2. Who’s already doing work around this injustice?
3. Do I have the capacity to offer concrete support & help to them?
4. How can I be constructive?

I feel like that’s a very elegant, practical way to think about this. Even for people who do organizing work every day, it can be overwhelming. For those us just getting involved, or who have never identified as an activist “or political” in any way, it can be frustrating to figure what you can actually do. I hope the following can be useful.

Links and Resources for More Information
“Raising awareness” on its own may not be enough to disrupt injustice, but that disruption isn’t going to happen without it. Here are a few articles (some news, some analysis) looking at both the United States’ very recent and relatively recent immigration policy; one simple action idea is to share one of these on Facebook and/or Twitter every day for the next week.

Parents, children ensnared in ‘zero-tolerance’ border prosecutions (Arizona Daily Star)
Alma Jacinto covered her eyes with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks. The 36-year-old from Guatemala was led out of the federal courtroom without an answer to the question that brought her to tears: When would she see her boys again? Jacinto wore a yellow bracelet on her left wrist, which defense lawyers said identifies parents who are arrested with their children and prosecuted in Operation Streamline, a fast-track program for illegal border crossers.

Border Patrol Kicked, Punched Migrant Children, Threatened Some with Sexual Abuse, ACLU Alleges (Newsweek)
Based on 30,000 pages of documents obtained through a records request, the report includes gruesome, detailed accusations of physical and mental abuse at the hands of officers.

Video: Chris Hayes on ‘despicable’ new Trump policy (MSNBC)
The United States government is now systematically taking children as young as 53 weeks old away from their parents at the border, thanks to new directives issued by the Trump administration.

Treatment and rhetoric about undocumented children put the Trump administration in a new category on hard-line immigration policy (Washington Post)
In an NPR interview earlier this month, White House Chief of Staff John F. Kelly was asked if using family separation as a “tough deterrent” to keep families from attempting to illegally immigrate into the United States was “cruel and heartless.” “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. The children will be taken care of — put into foster care or whatever,” he said.

Betsy DeVos Stirs Uproar By Saying Schools Can Call ICE On Undocumented Kids (HuffPo)
“Let’s be clear: Any school that reports a child to ICE would violate the Constitution. The Supreme Court has made clear that every child in America has a right to a basic education, regardless of immigration status. Secretary DeVos is once again wrong,” said Lorella Praeli, director of immigration policy and campaigns for the ACLU, in a statement.

A BETRAYAL: The teenager told police all about his gang, MS-13. In return, he was slated for deportation and marked for death (ProPublica)
Confused, Henry told the agents he was already working with the police. He asked them to call Tony. Instead, after interrogating him, the ICE agents put him on a bus… He was headed to an ICE detention center full of young men suspected of being MS-13 members — the very same ones he had snitched on.

Who Is Already Doing This Work, and How Can We Support Them?

The answer to this question will be different in different communities, but I will use the Twin Cities as an example. If you’re here too, hopefully you can check these organizations out. If you’re not, a quick online search like “(your city or state) + immigrant rights organization” or something like that may turn up something.

From there, it may be a matter of showing up and getting directly involved, or showing up to an action organized by one of these groups (like this one from just a few days ago), or donating money, or organizing a fundraising event, or something else. But being plugged in, following these organizations on social media (now!), joining their email lists, etc. is an easy step.

The Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee
MIRAC is the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee. It is an all-volunteer grassroots organization that organizes the immigrant community and their allies to struggle for legalization for all and equality in all aspects of life. We struggle for legalization, for a moratorium on raids and deportations, and for drivers licenses for all regardless of immigration status. MIRAC was formed in Spring 2006 out of the huge immigrant rights marches. We’ve organized many protests, marches and other activities for immigrant rights in Minnesota since then. (Twitter | Facebook | IG)

Immigrant Law Center of Minnesota
Immigrant Law Center of Minnesota (ILCM) is a nonprofit agency that provides immigration legal assistance to low-income immigrants and refugees in Minnesota. ILCM also works to educate Minnesota communities and professionals about immigration matters, and advocates for state and federal policies which respect the universal human rights of immigrants. (Twitter | Facebook | IG)

Navigate MN
Mission: NAVIGATE/ Unidos MN  is a millennial driven Latinx based organization that builds power for gender, racial and economic justice. Navigate MN envisions a visible Latinx community with clear vehicles and tools to build intergenerational economic, cultural and political wealth and like this contribute to the wellbeing and the prosperity of all Minnesotans, regardless of socioeconomic status, race, immigration status, dis/ability and gender identity. (Twitter | Facebook)

There are also national organizations like United We Dream, the ACLU, the Immigrant Defense Project, Amnesty International, RAICES, and others. Please feel free to add others in the comments.

Voting, Contacting Our Reps, and Holding Our Leaders Accountable
The upcoming elections offer opportunities beyond simply casting a ballot. A few thoughts:

1. Contact Your Elected Representatives. Find them here. Demand to know what their specific action plans are to address this. Call, email, Tweet, show up to town halls, and everything else. Make noise, especially if one of your reps is a moderate or on-the-fence. In can be something as simple as:

Dear (your rep): I am gravely concerned about new developments in the Trump administration’s immigration policy, especially the practice of separating children from their families. Please share what your plan is to address this.

 Find more tips for contacting your reps here, here, and here.

2. Make Immigration Justice a Core Part of the 2018 Platform. Every politician running for office in the midterms should feel the pressure to come out strongly in favor of addressing this problem, abolishing ICE, and committing to the safety of these children and families. Let candidates know that in order to earn YOUR vote, they must have a clear, specific plan in place to address this injustice.

3. Vote. As I wrote above, the Democrats, and Obama in particular, don’t have a great track record when it comes to immigration policy. That being said, I would also argue that Trump’s normalization of hate, dehumanizing language, and policies designed to let ICE “off the leash” are something uniquely odious, and something very much worth fighting against now. Change is driven by grassroots movements, and my position is that while Democrats aren’t perfect, they can be pressured by those movements in ways that Republicans can’t. Voting for liberals won’t change anything by itself, but it can help clear the way for the movement work that will change things. So mark your calendars for the 2018 midterms, tell everyone you know to do the same, and send a big damn message.

Plug In. Stay Engaged. Commit. 

There’s a lot more to talk about here. We need to talk about direct action, underground railroads, and the disruption of business-as-usual. A sense of urgency is necessary. But this post is only meant to be a starting point– learn more, get connected, and be ready to act. I think one thing that intimidates people about activism is feeling like they have to have all the answers and solve all the problems on their own. But this is going to be a collective effort. It’s going to take ALL of us, plugging in where and when and however we can, combining our efforts to create change.

When you look at the large task before you, it can feel hopeless. So don’t look at that. Look at a small, specific piece of it. Email this post, or one of the links in it, to five of your friends or family members. Go through all the social media links and follow the organizations doing this work. Look into who’s running for what office where you live this fall. There’s no one magic answer to this problem; there’s just the work.

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This is a brand new poem; basically a “written the day of the performance” poem. It’s kind of an experimental piece, in terms of how it work as a “poem,” but addresses something that a lot of my work engages with in one way or another: power.

On that note, I also wanted to share this series of videos from Ricardo Levins Morales, that I would encourage every aspiring activist or organizer to watch.

I’ll also refer people back to this post, which includes a ton of links, resources, and poems on the connections between violence (especially mass shootings) and how we talk about masculinity.

Full text of the poem below:

THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS

Poetic logic would state that a poem about mass shootings should open with something narrative, something graphic and shocking that shakes the audience out of their apathy. For people to truly cultivate empathy, that logic would state, they need to not just understand the horror on an intellectual level, but to visualize it, to embody it, to feel it.

But that logic flows from the presupposition that the point of a poem like that, would be to persuade people who do not care, to care. And does change come from convincing monsters to no longer be monsters? Do words have the power to make a coward, no longer a coward? This poem is not “an open letter to the NRA.” This poem is not a condemnation of those politicians who only ever offer their thoughts and prayers because taking any action beyond that is too risky politically.

When we win, it will not be because we have convinced our enemies to love us. It will be because we have beaten them. It will be because we have out-organized them, and made their positions, however deeply felt, irrelevant. That is how power works. Poetic logic would state that this idea should be supported by a metaphor, a concrete image, a heart-rending personal story ripped from my real-life experience. Without that, this logic states, the audience may not be able to relate, may tune out of the poem entirely. So what percentage of the audience am I left with? 50%? 15%? 1%?

What percentage of the people does it take to drive meaningful policy change? 50%? 15%? 1%? Of course, we need to build mass movements. But mass movements have to start somewhere. And maybe, if you are still listening to this poem that contains so little poetry, it is because you are someone who already cares, who knows that small groups of committed people can and have and will change the world, who knows that there is work to be done, and who will show up: and join that organization, organize that march, run for office yourself, do whatever it takes to be part of the solution.

Maybe you already know, that our cynicism, the idea that mass shootings are inevitable, or part of a cycle that is doomed to repeat forever, is not just disrespectful to the activists and advocates and survivors fighting for change every day, but is also no different from the cynicism of so-called lawmakers offering their “thoughts and prayers” again and again and again.

And again: poetic logic would state that a poem about mass shootings, and the power we have to stop them, should close with something narrative: a memory, or anecdote, or scene that offers a glimmer of hope. But hope does not glimmer. It burns. Hope must be kindled. Hope is not the poem. Not the thought. Not the prayer. It is the fire, breathed into life, spreading.

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Here it is. If you want a summary, the talk is basically about how the relationship between art and activism is so much deeper than just art that happens to be about activist stuff, that there’s a further connection in terms of process. The questions that artists ask themselves often mirror the questions that activists ask. The steps that artists take from idea to concept to art often mirror the steps that activists take from value to principle to action.

***Update (11/7/18): another poem, plus a consolidated list of activist resources, here***

My biggest worry is that the title of the talk might insinuate that it’s “for” artists or people who are already deeply engaged in activist work. And it’s not, really. This talk is for anyone who knows the world is messed up, and wants to do something about it. Just a few notes:

1. The talk opens with a revised version of my poem “Quicksand.” I’ve always liked that poem, but have also always worried that it’s too easy to misinterpret, to read it as a basic critique of slacktivism, or a call for action-for-action’s sake; for me, it’s something more nuanced. It’s my own fault as a writer that that isn’t more clear, but this talk gave me a chance to dig into the poem a little more.

2. The full text to that poem can be found here, and it’s also included in my book. As for the text of the full talk, I’m working on a highly-reimagined version of it for my new book, and the text/transcript is available via TED’s website.

3. The talk also plays off the zine that me and Liv Novotny made this past year; I’m currently working on a revised/updated version of that as well. Feel free to share!

FULL TEXT:
QUICKSAND

Upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, waist-deep in quicksand, I need a second to process. After all, this is fiction made flesh; it’s like a cartoon, like going to the zoo and seeing a mermaid. So my first response, naturally, is to tell him:

Hey, um, I’m pretty sure that I read somewhere that quicksand isn’t actually dangerous, that this idea of a patch of sandy water sucking a person down into oblivion is just a tall tale, a trope to build tension in early 1960s westerns. In real life, yeah, I mean, you can get caught in some mud, but it’s not really that hard to get out. So are you sure you’re sinking in quicksand?

He sinks. My words don’t seem to have any effect. So being an open-minded, progressive individual, I reevaluate. Maybe quicksand is real. So what now?

My second response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, chest deep in quicksand is, before I actually do anything, to make sure that I have the whole picture. I mean, what was this guy doing out here in the jungle all alone? Did he step into that quicksand on purpose? Was he asking for it? Does he have a criminal record? Maybe I should wait until all the facts come in.

He sinks. And again, being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. I want to help.

So my third response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, neck deep in quicksand is, obviously, to recite a poem. To throw some positive energy his way. To describe, out loud, just how heavy my heart is. I take a piece of paper out of my backpack, and with a pen, I write “quicksand is bad and I am an ALLY to those who fall in it.” I pin that piece of paper to my chest. I take out my phone and I tweet “when are we going to wake up? #quicksand.”

He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that this isn’t enough, that we, as a society, need to address the root causes of people sinking in quicksand. So my fourth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, forehead-deep in quicksand, is to take a moment to acknowledge my privilege as someone who is not sinking in quicksand. I vow to take a class, to be more mindful of how I navigate the world.

He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that the time for words has passed; now is the time for action. So my fifth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, disappeared into quicksand, is… is…

We can’t allow ourselves to forget what happened here. I know that we need to do something, to put up a sign, to educate people, to build a bridge over this patch of quicksand. I just don’t have any wood. I just have this backpack full of paper and pens and rope; what can one person do?

I imagine my lungs filling with mud. Black earth. Brown water. The hike back to my hotel will be full of reflection. I offer my thoughts, and my prayers. It is the least I can do.

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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.

(share image)

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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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photo by @_scotify

Just getting back from performing at Eaux Claires. Definitely one of the most unique (and best) experiences I’ve had as an artist. This is not related to what this post is really about, but a quick shout out to the staff, who was beyond nice and very professional; the festival really does have a vibe that’s different from a lot of other big events. I also got to hear “California Stars” live, which was cool.

I did two hour-long shifts in the Escape installation, a “tiny house” where 4-7 people would come in for five minutes at a time to hear a couple poems. I also got to participate in a handful of pop-up performances on other stages (both solo and along with John Mark Creative‘s crew), performing for a few hundred more people.

I mention those numbers because this was also the weekend the Yanez decision came in. Being at a festival like Eaux Claires, I can’t say that I didn’t have some stereotypes or preconceived notions in my head about just how much people would want to talk about that. Thankfully, everyone seemed a lot less in the mood for escapism than I would have thought. I opened every performance I did with this poem, and had many powerful conversations with people about the dissonance of being at a music festival while friends and family were protesting, getting arrested, and/or just hurting.

Obviously, I don’t have any answers or profound things to say here. I’m just appreciative that people were willing to engage, and that many other artists (though it could always be more) were willing to take time out of their sets to make sure we say Philando Castile’s name. It’s a small act, of course, too small, but still worth doing. Activism can’t just happen in “activist spaces” like rallies and social media bubbles; it’s also about how we intentionally integrate an activist practice into every facet of our lives– from the things we do for fun, to our workplaces, to our schools, and beyond.

Another theme of the past few days has been thinking about the many different ways that people process: grieving, expressing outrage, marching, donating to organizations, making vows and commitments, just *being* with loved ones, etc. It’s all valid. For me, I find strength in sharing resources, especially for people out there who do feel powerless (as we all do sometimes). So a few links to inform any potential next steps:

    Feel free to add more in the comments.

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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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    ***EDIT: This poem/post is from 2017 (and includes some specific references to that time), but the video below is the higher-quality version that Button Poetry shared in 2020)

    The Japanese American Citizen’s League asked me to write a piece for the 2017 Day of Remembrance (the day in 1942 that Executive Order 9066 was signed, requiring internment of all Americans of Japanese ancestry), connecting it to current issues regarding xenophobia and anti-immigrant hate.

    Check out this story for a bit more background; there are a ton of other resources online as well. As the poem talks about, this is the kind of story I feel like a lot of people know about in a general sense, but that few internalize and really grapple with. And we need to be thinking about it, especially right now. Full text below.

    Finally, please support organizations working to build immigrant power and/or fight xenophobia, Islamophobia, and hate of all kinds. I’m editing this post in 2025, so will also share this powerful video/resource from Building Movement Project and Tsuru for Solidarity.

    Dust

    1.
    Asked what the infant city was like, those first residents might have, with some justice, summed it up with one word — dust. -Journalist Taro Katayama, writing about Utah’s Topaz internment camp.

    The Japanese side of my family settled in Hawaii. And of course, during the war, they couldn’t intern all of the Japanese there; that’d be a third of the population. But still, decades later, I grew up hearing about the camps. For every story about one of my great uncles fighting for the US against the Japanese Empire, another story: about a different empire, an empire of dust.

    There was a kind of distance, of course: hearing the echo, of the echo, of someone weeping. It was subtle, like, for every Packer game, to make room for snacks, I’d have to move those three huge coffee table books: one about Hawaii, one about Ireland (for some reason), and one about Manzanar. This is where the “less” of my more-or-less whiteness lives. Not so much a waving flag as a map hidden in the sole of my shoe.

    I learned very early that ghosts are not just the disembodied spirits of the dead. They can be, but they are also more, in the same way that water is more than just rain, that history is more than just the history we are taught. Ghosts appear, like dust, everywhere, from nothing, they multiply. They swim in the ink of newspaper headlines, smile in the background of photographs seized by government censors, burst by the thousands from a grandmother’s single tear. They create patterns in the dust; we breathe them in, when we breathe in the dust. And I learned very early, that ghosts don’t just haunt houses. They haunt history. And that knowing your history determines: whether you learn to live with your ghosts, or are devoured by them.

    2.
    Tennessee legislator Glen Casada calls for the National Guard to “round up” all Syrian refugees, despite constitutional protections. He says: you have to ask yourself, which is greater: life or due process?

    As if that were the choice. As if our history, if we listen to it, does not curse and condemn those who offer these kinds of choices– life or your freedom, life or your culture, life or your property, life or your language, life or your child’s life. Just do the math. How much can you carry, as you leave your home, unsure of your return? What do you leave, what can you not live without? Do you plan to return? Do you hope? What year is this? Is the distance disappearing? And suddenly it isn’t math anymore.

    Question #27: “Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered?”

    Question #28: “Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any or all attack by foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, or other foreign government, power or organization?”

    Is answering yes an admission that you, at one point, would not have answered yes? Will you be loyal to that which is not loyal to you? When uprooted, will you still reach for the sun? Will you grow here, in this dust? Will your children? How will you protect your children?

    You have to ask yourself, which is greater: one grain of dust, or all those ghosts? You have to ask yourself: which is greater: that weight on the conscience of a nation, or all those ghosts? I learned very early, that you have to ask yourself: which is greater: your commitment to order, or your commitment to justice?

    3.
    Before he died, Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia gave a talk at the University of Hawaii Law School about the Korematsu decision, the legal rationale for the internment of 120,000 innocent people of Japanese descent, most of whom were US citizens, born here, half of them children. He invoked a Latin phrase: Inter arma enim silent leges: “in times of war, the law falls silent.”

    And evolution is slow, slower than the sun crawling across the desert sky, slower than the fading of memory. The only real difference between who we are now and who we were in 1942 is our history, and what we choose to learn from it. I learned very early that it is always a time of war. That they will always find a scapegoat. If not our people, someone’s people.

    There are still people living, who witnessed lynchings. There are still people living, who survived the Holocaust. And of those Japanese Americans still living, who lost time to the camps, to the dust, we must hear them. And those who are not still living: we must hear them too.

    Fred Korematsu said: “… No one should ever be locked away simply because they share the same race, ethnicity, or religion as a spy or terrorist. If that principle was not learned from the internment of Japanese Americans, then these are very dangerous times for our democracy.”

    Mary Hirata said: …we have to make sure it’s never done again. It’s so easy, and the more I read about it, the more I know that this was already planned way before the war… it’s a terrible thing to happen. Of course, I don’t think they’ll ever do it again, they couldn’t. I think. But that’s what we thought, too.”

    Yuri Kochiyama said: “Remember that consciousness is power. Tomorrow’s world is yours to build.”

    These words, these stories, are my family’s only heirloom. And we must listen. Through the dust storm of history, through the wailing all those ghosts. We must hear these voices.

    …But they must hear us too.

    Because when the law falls silent, we must not be.

    When the law falls silent,

    we will not be.