Dear Movement,
Know that your efforts to combat the problem of underrepresentation in society haven’t gone unnoticed by those of us who find ourselves on the sidelines. You’ve helped to open doors and challenge barriers to equal access to rights like education for girls and women, which is important; since it hasn't always been permitted.
If it weren’t for your presence, I might’ve gone with the idea that I should avert my gaze, only speak when spoken to or excuse myself for being here; when this is furthest from the truth. Instead; I defied the odds of what history said I could not do- like resist, be- like be loved or break like break the silence.
It became apparent that all of your protesting wasn’t just about visibility and being heard; it was also about the need for human dignity. While it’s true that the quality of life should account for something; the fight to live not just exist has been a longstanding one for many marginalized and working class communities.
This obstacle has taught me that I didn’t need empathy but needed exactly what you offered; which was clarity through books with narratives and hard cold facts that pressed against my unsuspecting walls of reason. And I began to understand these forces- the forces waged against and within us.
Always,
B
Dear Movement,
Words have been forged in silence, erased from textbooks and blurred by borders and boundaries that seem to mean less and less each day. It’s good to approach this moment not with the temperament of a child but a wisdom that will carry you, me, us into the next decade.
It’s the type of wisdom that flows from rivers into veins, the type of resilience born from fire in the belly and the type of strength rooted by stubborn weeds that give us heart. This is why we still have the audacity to dream; because we're familar with struggle and the earth has always kept us.
They may try to smear our outlines, tame our bodies, and dismantle our spirits, so that we no longer know who we are. They may even try to reduce our oral histories to conjecture, so that future generations won’t even know what’s already happened to them; once they get here.
But the land remembers everything; including and especially our survival, which is one of the most radical things we can do- survive. It has now become a part of us; so much so that it’s a ritual we just do without even thinking about it like getting out of bed in the morning, putting our pants on or pouring a glass of water.
To reclaim our fragile identities; we must learn to pick up the pieces of our fractured selves, in hopes of making something whole again from our broken and tattered state. We must release and discard what no longer serves us. And make room for that pain to heal; once we speak the truth.
In solidarity,
B