On Collective Imagination and Action
“We can overcome the structures that oppress us, but only if we are prepared to work hard to do so. We have the strength, we have the numbers and with the courage of our own convictions, we can regain the right to live our own lives.” — Crass, from A Series of Shock Slogans and Mindless Token Tantrums
I am heartbroken. I am heartbroken, but not giving up.
My partner and I were at the grocery store this week. I was bagging our groceries when I saw motion, and heard a “Whoa!”
Turning, I saw groceries scattered on the sidewalk just outside, one person standing, and another on the ground. I moved to rush outside and see if I could help, thinking someone had fallen. But then several store employees rushed outside, and it all became clear: Someone had run out of the store with some food in their arms, chased by an employee who then got shoved to the sidewalk in a panic.
I think the person with the groceries got away but was not sure.
As my partner and I walked out, I remarked, “Here we are. Les Misérables. No social safety net. People needing to steal food.”
I felt angry, disgusted, and, by the time we got to our car, filled with heartbreak.
The life I live is fairly privileged, even though it should be ordinary. Sure, my household keeps track of the grocery bill, making sure we spend under a certain amount each month. We “shop the freezer” but we also don’t have to carefully check prices. We are not the desperate parent who can’t afford the locked-up formula or diapers. We aren’t the person who ran out of the store today, arms cradling a few items of stolen food.
**
“Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of themself and of their family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond their control.” from a Universal Declaration of Human Rights, article 25
In the city I live in—along with too many other US cities—public camping was just outlawed. Though, as the city already made regular sweeps of camps, trashing the only belongings people have to survive on a regular basis, I’m not certain what exactly is supposed to change. Except the already impoverished will get taken to jail and issued a fine.
These sweeps are so often timed before the most brutal weather changes, I have to wonder if it is not by design.
Portland Oregon has been in the midst of a record-setting heatwave. People I know are desperately trying to get cooling supplies to people on the streets and hotel rooms for as many as they can. People I know are redistributing air conditioners to elders and folks with disabilities who live in homes not designed for extreme temperatures.
Meanwhile, our city gave a massive, lucrative contract to an organization notorious for abuse in order to run city approved encampments.
Every year, people die from extreme heat or cold, while a small percentage of us do our best to offer direct aid. We drop off food to the queer-safe warming shelter. We collect water for Wasco and Paiute elders, and send money to the collectives who are active on the streets, helping unhoused neighbors. We redistribute necessary goods to those who need them: old AC units, air purifiers for the smoky times, and heaters during winter’s cold. We share refurbished computers and phones. We buy tablets and gift books to children living in RVs…
There is an acknowledgement among us that we are all we have, so we’d better damn well show up.
**
“…we have become increasingly convinced that the most widespread, long-lasting, and fierce struggles are animated by strong relationships of love, care, and trust. These values are not fixed duties that can be imitated, nor do they come out of thin air. They arise from struggles through which people become powerful together.” — Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, from Joyful Militancy: Building Thriving Resistance in Toxic Times
I think the dream of government is that it is collective action. Government is supposed to take the ideas, interests, and resources from those who live within its arbitrary boundaries, and take care of those same people, and the environment they live in.
It’s a great thought that seems more efficient than a bunch of people getting together, ad hoc, to keep roads and sewer systems running, bridges safe, and to provide clean water, education, and shelter.
But repeatedly, we are thrown back—or I am, at any rate—on the realization that if we don’t help each other, no one will. Bridges fail. Roads crumble. Tap water becomes undrinkable, and clean water is sold for pennies to bloated corporations that turn around and sell it back to those who should have free access to this life giving liquid.
There is no savior. There is no one with all the answers. But there is us. There is collective action, and mutual aid.
Is collective action a sometimes a pain? Does it require time, energy, effort, thought, and commitment? Yes. It can. But collective action can also bring about fierce joy, and a deep sense of satisfaction. There is joy in finding we can actually be of service to each other. We can share skills, thoughts, and resources. We can build systems of support.
I’ve seen disabled people organize refrigerator space and rides out of town when wildfire smoke chokes the sky. I’ve seen a group of school kids, smiling at a new-to-them computer that they didn’t have before. I’ve seen youth organize against racism, and to help their trans and queer friends. I’ve seen people checking on elders and doing grocery runs. I’ve seen free pantries filled with food. I’ve seen protest encampments sharing meals and medical care with unhoused neighbors….
There are so many wonderful things that I have seen. I’m sure we all have, if we are paying attention to the world around us.
**
“I believe that all organizing is science fiction - that we are shaping the future we long for and have not yet experienced.” — Adrienne Marie Brown, from Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good
All of my personal long-term visions for a world that is and could be require collective imagination and collective action. These visions can be hard to hold onto because our social ills are legion and too many people buy into the systems of authoritarianism, punishment, and greed. Too many others are beaten down, simply trying to survive. Others are comfortable, and don’t want to look too closely at the problems they would rather went away.
They can never tell me where this elusive “away” might be.
So, I get angry. My friends get angry. We feel heartbroken and sometimes defeated.
It is right to feel grief and anger—necessary, even—but if we care for one another, we don’t have the luxury of wallowing in it, not for long.
When grief and anger are rooted in love, they spur us into action. That’s a very good thing.
I don’t want to uphold a society where someone—like Victor Hugo’s character, Jean Valjean—goes to prison for stealing a loaf of bread. I don’t want to uphold a society where someone loses all their worldly goods and is slapped with a fine because they have no money, and nowhere safe to sleep.
Together, we can build a different society. To defeat the forces of complacency and oppression, we must each do what we can. Our actions are more effective in the long term if we learn to work collectively, however small. All it takes is for a few friends and neighbors to make a choice to band together in mutual aid.
**
“Mní Wičóni. Water is life.”— from the Lakota people
As I worked on this essay on one of those scorching days, I noticed a parent with two young children—one in a stroller—sit down on the low containment wall outside our collective home, taking a moment to rest in the shade.
It was not yet the hottest part of the day, but it was still plenty hot. I knew there were cold drinks in the refrigerator. Carrying them out, I offered some cans to the little family. They accepted, with thanks.
Then I refilled a water dish for the birds and animals and went back inside.
It was one small act of kindness, and not nearly enough to solve society’s problems. But a cold drink on a hot day is still something. And some days, something is what we’ve got.
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