Aug 2004. Committing to Indicorps was a decision among a lot of hard decisions I made back then. It's been a struggle to say the least, but I'm always growing, and hopefully, always learning how to be a better person.
Anyhow, I jumped into it- the Rural Design School fellowship- and something about trying to help empower people through their own creativity really clicked for me. The experience has informed and shaped a lot of what I've done since then. I know I'm committed to this work- community-building and arts activism- but I've had to work through some difficult thought processes. It's such fulfilling work, but I feel like there are so many balls perpetually in the air that I barely have time to recognize the rhyme or reason to my work, let alone the impact of it or the need for it.
For example, from the beginning, I was told that the first rule for community organizing is to immerse yourself in the community with which you work, to try to truly understand the deeper contexts and layers to what you see happening. But, at the end of the day, I've seen too many instances of organizers being unknowingly mocked, played, or (worst case) taken advantage of, by community members because these organizers are so oblivious to the fact that they are outsiders.
One of the most brutal reality checks I got was a conversation in India (while in the midst of 'immersing myself' in the community's lifestyle... living in a hut in the desert in 120 degree weather on the Indo-Pak border, living on less than $25/mo with a 2-hour commute to a hospital or internet) when someone reminded me that, at the end of the day, no matter how bare boned I choose to live, I'm still an English-speaking, college-educated, American-citizenship-holding woman with access and options. I think that one conversation set the course for all of my decisions since then.
I can be one with people in struggle and solidarity, but I have to acknowledge my privilege. It's a perpetual separator, but such a great gift.
I don't know if I have a point here. I am still learning. Working through all these diametric and circular thoughts I have swirling around in my head: guilt-complexes; understanding why people choose hate and anger instead of constructive work; wondering if grad school is a next step for me- and a method to understand how macro-level systems and institutions affect my work- or if it is me, stalling in the work I could be doing; understanding coalition building vs. separate community empowerment; mediating the difference between ground level, grassroots work and working on higher-up, systematic change; how one can begin to define 'effective' or 'successful' work in a space where change isn't quantifiable; how anyone can consistently and sustainably keep pushing forward with work that can be so frustrating and exhausting ...
I feel like I'm in a perpetual storm of wanting to do good while keeping my work, motives, and priorities in check. I guess, when everything is said and done, I'm still trying to figure things out, just farther along then I used to be. But the great thing is that like attracts like, and I'm surrounded by amazingly inspiring and beautiful people that challenge me to keep going and push me to imagine all the good I am capable of- if I can keep my head up (lately, keeping my head up has been one of the toughest obstacles I've faced).
I'm also super grateful that we live in a time of people like this getting the attention and credit that brings good work to the forefront.
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