History: a practice of healing

In a speech given in 2014, Ursula Le Guin, that masterful imaginer of worlds we could become, said:

"We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.”

And so, in these tenuous, dark times, I find myself turning to writing, a practice that always seems to remind me of my self, of what kind of resistance and change I can enact in this short and grasping life. These dark times, and yet, are they dark? There is so, so very much light, shining through cracks in these systems. All throughout this revelation of a year. This reckoning of a decade. This long time outside of time. Because it does not and cannot feel, for the marginalized, the silenced, the oppressed, as though any of this began or will end in 2020.

As we painstakingly approach the end of this year that has felt like a century and an instant at once, I find myself thinking almost constantly about where we are at and why, where we might go, and the importance of all of the pieces of resistance. I look to Canada, my homeland, to the US, a place I lived for many years that holds so many people I love, to Norway, my new home, and across a world held in such tension it feels unbearable on most days. There aren’t words enough to describe the pain of witnessing anti-black, anti-indigenous violence, always rooted in capitalism, no matter where in the world one looks.

In recent weeks we have read about the heinous murder of Nigerians peacefully protesting the carceral state by Nigerian police, about the systematic and relentless attack against Mi’kmaq fisherman by settlers in Nova Scotia while complicit RCMP stood by, about the murders of Walter Wallace Jr. and Kevin Peterson Jr. by Philadelphia and Washington State police, countless acts of white supremacist terror at every level of severity, countless acts of medical apartheid around the world, Covid-19 reminding some of us and teaching others for the first time that the halls of healing were not built for all, and, and, and, and, and.

The list does not end. The term ‘web’ doesn’t quite cut it when attempting to describe the ways in which these systems of oppression weave in and out of themselves, each piece reinforcing the other, seemingly moving in and out, forward and back in time to make solid and sturdy this terrible tapestry.

I am angry, enraged, too much or exactly enough or never enough of the time. I'm wondering, too, how to do it. How to exist in what feels like a crumbling world, that has crumbled so many times before, I know. And how to walk bravely into this new, old world but with a persistent softness? How to hear that which has been so silenced without becoming so soft one melts into the very earth? How to move forward without holding to heart an express purpose to heal that which is so broken in our ways of moving through this aching world?

It doesn't feel like enough, anymore, or ever, to engage in the inevitably performative social media hash tagging. And, then again, it feels like one of the only things one can do when necessarily isolated.

It doesn’t feel like enough to engage in the small acts of rebellion, the loving acts, the acts of self-care, the acts of stepping in to one’s power, the acts of teaching, of healing, of building community, of putting seeds into both physical and metaphorical soils, of watering them, of watching them grow, of committing to the process of nourishment. But it is. It IS enough.

It is EVERYTHING.

Tomorrow the United States will elect their next leadership, in the wake of a public health disaster that never, ever had to happen, in the wake of four years of...well, my instinct is to say tyranny, but we know that's not what it is, not just yet. Everything is setting up for a tyrannical, dictatorial rule, though. The next weeks will doubtless be tender ones, rough ones, frightening ones. The ripple effects of 45 have been deep and tumultuous, the world over. Something has been happening, is happening, has awakened. People are sloughing off their dusty old façades and costumes, refusing the propriety that hid their true feelings, beliefs, intentions for so long. Things have only been dormant, none of this is new.

Any eventuality in the wake of the election will require a level of compassion, action, and global attention that most of us have never engaged in, let alone known to be vital.

It is hard to see how, amidst the sheer scope and weight of it all. But,

the work of unlearning does fit in, here. This work, my work, these opportunities to learn and unlearn and face one’s self in the process, they fit in, here.

The cruel truth of it is, without shifting patterns of motion and thought, ways of learning and being in the spaces where power lives, a lasting change cannot manifest. We all have our roles in the revolution, and the one I’ve been called to for a long time now, is to teach, and to heal. To heal through teaching. Those are my strengths, where my mind whirs and my words hit deepest. And when it is time to put feet on pavement and signs in the air, when I can that’s where I’ll be too. And when I’m teaching and healing, it is in the spirit of those in the streets, those in every space who have dedicated themselves to creating a just and compassionate world.

In these times, we must all step into the power of whichever role we have to play in the days, months, and years ahead. Some of us will be in the streets, and those who are not will be occupying the myriad roles necessary to shift these times into new ones. We will need to rely on the words of encouragement of those who know us best, to remember who we are and what we are capable of in the face of so much despair and discord. In my case, it was reading a friend and mentor’s words about me and my work that reminded me of my role, that reminded me that I have

"always attempted to use history and historiography to better understand the present. But it did not stop there. Ro was not only interested in a better understanding of the present, she was interested in finding solutions to the problems of racial and social injustice in the present, especially when it came to the lives and well-being of marginal and minoritized subjects: women, sexual minorities, religious outsiders, immigrants, etc. For her, history was clearly part of a practice of healing.”

History: a practice of healing. Oh, if only we could approach it as such! Can you imagine the possibilities therein? Sometimes the words others speak on your behalf are much more potent than those you have access to about yourself. I am forever grateful for the reminders so many of my loved ones have given me as I return to this work I am called to, and I hope I can and have returned the favour.

So, who are you, in these times? What would those who know you and your skills, your way of being in the world, the core of you and the way you resonate with the needs of this era, what would they say about you? And you, where do you see your best self showing up to change this aching world? What do you need to learn and unlearn to step into that self? There isn’t much time left; and, there’s all the time in the world. Use every second well.

Let’s create a history we won’t need to heal from, shall we?