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Right. Okay. Here we go. Just a heads up, this is gonna be a different kind of post. Most of my posts are narrative, stories of past exploits to give y’all a fuller picture of me as an artist and human being. This… this one is different. See, ever since Trump started taking actions as president I’ve felt this twisting inside me as his administration takes aim at one minority population after another. During the past eight years I could forgive myself for letting marginalized peoples lead the charge for their own liberation and waving my liberal pom-poms from the sidelines, confident that our nation was headed in the right direction, that strides would be made. Suffice to say, that doesn’t cut it for me anymore. I apologize in advance for the impending privilege whinge. There’s a lot on my mind. The Question that keeps me up is primarily about my method of engagement with these struggles. As an able-bodied cishet white man of stable financial standing, what is my place in the fight for equality? I am, in almost every way, part of the demographic elite, and I shouldn’t impose my privileged opinions on this battle; while I could spout some liberal maxim about chains and weak links, the fact is that I do not share the struggles of oppressed communities. I have never had to worry about police profiling, or access to public spaces, or religious discrimination, or lack of representation, or whether there’s dinner tonight, and the list continues. Neither have I engaged extensively with these issues (not for a lack of opportunity, but my past failings aren’t the point of this post). Ergo, I do not and cannot have the answers to these problems, and frankly I don’t need to. If every member of a movement for change holds fast to their personal opinions without coming to consensus on an agenda, no progress will be made. Too many cooks, and whatnot.
So that realization eases the stress a little bit, but doesn’t bring me much closer to finding my answer. Vocal support is no longer enough; my vote is no longer enough (and really they never were, but denial ain’t just a river in Egypt). Finally, I’m feeling the call to action, the need to make positive change and not just cheer it on. Which brings us back to the Question: How do I take an active role in this resistance? What do I have to offer? For some of you the answers will be mind-numbingly obvious, but bear with me as I talk it out. The easiest, lowest-commitment option is financial donation. Done. Starting in January I started making monthly donations to groups I want to survive through the next four years. What else can I give? The other major resource that pops to mind is time, volunteering with orgs doing the good work. This, however, is more complicated than it might first appear. See, I work in a coffee shop. It’s not a standard 9-5, which is what most organizations use to plan their events. I pretty much always work weekends. And since I get my schedule week-by-week, it’s hard to plan ahead and confidently make commitments. I’d rather underpromise and overachieve than the other way around--that’s just how I operate as a human being. As I work towards making my allyship a relationship, not just a status (thank you, Code Switch, for that succinct summation), I know I must give things up; failure to make sacrifices renders my allyship not just ineffective, but insulting. But when I’m pursuing an acting career in the evenings and working mornings and weekends, how do I add social resistance into the mix? It’s fumbling out that balance between sacrifice and subsistence that sends my stomach into somersaults. I’m working it out. I’ve started engaging with local political groups like Reclaim Chicago and Chicago Progress so I’ll at least be aware of opportunities to chip in. The leaders of these organizations have already figured out how to make change, and I can follow in their wake. Already my gut is beginning to unclench as I begin to see the strategy for resistance; my place in it is TBD, but now that I’ve found the armies and the battlefield I can find somewhere to wedge myself in. It’s gonna be stormy seas and all hands on deck for the next few years. It’s high time I got my sea legs.
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May 2020
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