As I sit here in the quiet light of my Christmas tree, I am wobbling between reflections on 2019 and declarations for 2020.
I am feeling as if my spirit is ready to release a sigh, as if it’s been holding its breath for a very long time. New Year’s resolutions aren’t really my thing, but I do like to acknowledge the closing of one chapter and beginning of another.
I hope to quietly sit with my moments of 2019, especially the messy and ugly ones, and acknowledge that they happened for a greater good that I may or may not have already learned.
By profession, I am a community organizer for an organization that is working for an equitable West Virginia; a West Virginia that sees the value in ALL people, especially marginalized folks, and realizes that we are all experts of our own experience. My job isn’t to blow into town and fix the problems but, rather, to help develop leaders who will fix their communities’ problems themselves.
Speaking Out
One thing I’ve learned from my own life experience is that folks aren’t going to sacrifice their comfort for something that doesn’t break their hearts. Speaking out to power is intimidating and scary, and it’s my job to sit with people in that space of vulnerability, to provide the skills and tools needed, and to symbolically hold the door open while they rush inside.
Something I’ve noticed is that once folks become accustomed to having a space to be heard, it’s hard for them to accept being told to quiet down, and it’s that part of my job that keeps me going.
Turning pain into power. It’s not an easy shift, but it’s absolutely necessary if real change is going to happen, and it makes people on all sides a little uncomfortable.
There’s a place for all of us in bringing about the changes needed for a more equitable system. Allies have their place and impacted folks have theirs, and sometimes those roles get blurred. We still have a tendency to honor an academic and legislative perspective rather than one based on lived experience.
We all possess gifts. Let’s create a space for those gifts to be used. Let’s start building power from the ground up in 2020.
2020
In 2020, let us:
1. Vote. It seems as if it doesn’t matter at times, but it does. The system is relying on low poll turnout, so let’s stop playing into that. Host voter registration drives. Make sure you ask everyone you know whether they’re registered. Ask if they need a ride to the polls.
2. Fill out the 2020 Census. We here in WV are estimated to risk $27,000 in federal funds over the course of 10 years for EACH person who doesn’t fill out the Census. Ten people not counted will strip our state of $270,000 of federal funding over 10 years. #CountMeInWV
3. Let’s rip off the band aids. If you are tirelessly volunteering to support a marginalized group or individual, then push a little further and start advocating for the policy changes that will truly help them. Material resources are wonderful and necessary, but so is someone who is in relationship with the folks who need things to change.
Help to arrange conversations with people in power so they can see the people their laws are affecting. Use your privilege to create a space to put the impacted folks– the real experts– in the front of the room to speak their truth. Drive them to Charleston so they can visit their lawmakers and see the process in action. They’ll need your privilege. Share that gift.
4. Open our minds. We should spend as much time seeking to understand a situation we’ve never been in before we start preaching as to how to get out of it. Just because something isn’t happening to you doesn’t mean it’s not happening to those not like you.
5. Stand firm in our values. I pay less attention to which party one is affiliated with and more attention to who professes to have the same values as I.
Let’s make 2020 a turning point. Let’s be more mindful of the world around us. Let’s see each other as humans whose circumstances shouldn’t result in a loss of dignity. Let’s all turn our pain into power.
Onward,
Amy Jo
Related: You Count, We All Count
