Manifesting hope through community, through each other
This post is part of my 3DR newsletter where I share what I’m (un)learning to build just futures. It centres around my 3DR approach to equity: Decolonize. Disrupt. Dismantle. Rebuild. If you approach the world with curiosity and you’re looking for courageous and compassionate conversations around social justice and collective liberation, subscribe to my newsletter.
Happy New Year! First and foremost, I want to express my deep gratitude to you for joining me on this journey. What began as an impulse to share some lessons I’ve learned in my work as a growing educator of anti-oppression and equity has now become a space of engaged readers and co-learners. I’m grateful and humbled to know that there are hundreds of you out there who are invested in dismantling systems of oppression and tapping into the curiosity, creativity, and courage it takes to rebuild our systems to create just and equitable futures.
I'm bringing these words from the poet Gwendolyn Brooks with me into the new year and wanted to share them with you as well:
“that we are each other’s
harvest:
we are each other’s
business:
we are each other’s
magnitude and bond.”
I am bringing this spirit of collective care into all that I do and all that I create in 2024.
At a time when our world has been watching the climate crisis in full and terrifying view and when people continue to be violently and horribly displaced from their homes, I find myself more than ever resisting despair and growing even more firm in my convictions in the 3DR approach: to decolonize, disrupt, dismantle, and rebuild. And above all, I am even more committed to doing all of this in deep community and collaboration with each of you.
The last few months of 2023 were deeply transformative for me and I am still finding the words to capture the reverberations of such a major tilt of an axis. But here’s an attempt…
Reconnecting to Land
Back in October, I spent time living, working, and playing on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia – the traditional, unceded, and ancestral territories of the Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Úxwumixw, shíshálh, Tla’amin, Klahoose, and Homalco Nations. I explored questions of justice, equity, and care between and amongst settler and Indigenous collaborators and it was a beautiful time nestling into softness.
I spent much of that month in the forest, learning from and about Indigenous communities, traditions, and practices – specifically how Coast Salish people used the land for food, medicine, and technology for thousands of years, and how they continue to do so in spite of the systematic destruction of that land and those practices by the colonial state of Canada.
I learned all about the significance and purpose of different trees and plants, understanding the unique medicine that each offers. I watched the annual salmon run, bearing witness to the miracle of this sacred animal, sacrificing their own lives to allow the next generation to be born and prosper, and, in turn, providing an abundance of food for us all. I learned about the power of root systems – how they wind and wrap themselves together so tightly to create the strongest foundations so as to be immovable, how their strength is deeply and inextricably intertwined with each other.
Immersing myself in the land has put in sharp focus just how disconnected I am to the natural world, and how much of that is, in fact, by design. As someone who was born in and whose lineage lies in the Philippines, colonization is, sadly, an inextricable part of my story. Our colonizers are not the same, and yet the systemic oppression and the strategic dispossession of land is all too familiar.
Connecting Community
My trip to BC was transformative in healing my relationship to the land, and in pushing me forward to reconnect to the physical earth of both my homeland and my adopted land.
Understanding all of this has become immediately more powerful and urgent with all that has been happening in Palestine. Again, the colonizers are not the same, and yet the systemic oppression and the strategic dispossession of land is all too familiar.
I have been taking these lessons from the land and applying it to social movements. After all, these ancient natural systems teach us so much about how to live and be. They carry the wisdom of collaboration that far predates and will likely outlive our time here on this earth.
“I believe in the honesty of trees…I look at the anatomy of trees as one of nature’s examples of successful organizing that realizes that our power is in our ability to both be fiercely centred and grounded, but also infinitely reaching towards our unique sources of energy, light, and growth.
Each tree’s elements are relying on one another, but totally unique in form and function. There is no competition or pressure to be the root or the trunk or the buds that bloom. Each tree is a universe, a master delegator, a puzzle, and a puzzle piece.
They have encouraged me to not worry so much about making everyone “feel important“ and to focus on how to create systems and support efforts where everyone is important and clear on how their work is unique crucial, and totally interconnected.”
Since that trip, I have been organizing as much as I possibly can to demand an immediate and permanent ceasefire in Gaza, and beyond that, an end to the occupation and ultimately, a free and liberated Palestine.
I have been fortunate to connect with hundreds of caring, kind, and socially conscious neighbours in my local riding of Davenport to organize a number of actions demanding that our Member of Parliament (MP) represent her constituents in calling for a ceasefire, a complete and immediate arms embargo against Israel, and an end to the siege on Gaza, amongst other demands.
We have spent hours rallying outside our MP’s office, organizing phone zaps to reach our MP and other key ministers, standing in the rain collecting signatures for our petition, singing songs for justice and freedom, designing and writing postcards of peace to the Prime Minister, and so much more.
All of this emerged in a completely grassroots and organic way. We all found each other online after an infuriating virtual town hall meeting with our MP where she offered no substantial answers to constituent concerns regarding the frightening humanitarian crisis in Gaza. We all decided to form a WhatsApp group to continue the conversation and to organize. Within just a few days, we became a collective of 200 members, and throughout the last few months, we have become a loose and yet very organized network of over 400 neighbors committed to resisting the genocidal violence we are witnessing in Palestine.
There have been many days where I feel overwhelmed by the senseless violence happening across the globe and I am full of rage for the absolute spinelessness of our world leaders. But then I open up my WhatsApp group chat and I find hundreds of my neighbours in conversation about the news, consoling each other and lifting each other up, sharing different ways to get involved, inviting each other to share a meal, and offering to bring soup or hot chocolate to our next action.
I don’t quite know how to explain it, but organizing with my neighbours in this way has felt deeply spiritual. When we hop on a Zoom call to plan or get together for a rally, I feel like I am in communion.
The poet, historian, and activist, Aurora Levíns Morale, wrote that: “In order to build the movements capable of transforming our world, we have to do our best to live with one foot in the world we have not yet created.”
But when I am with my Davenport neighbours, I am not living with one foot in the world we have not yet created. I am living fully in that world we are creating together with the entirety of my beautiful breathing body.
“In nature, everything works in collaboration. There are hummingbirds and flowers that are in such deep coordination they need each other for survival. How vibrant and alive and successful could our movement be if we moved with such coordination and collaboration?”
As we move into another year, I am thinking of all of you dear friends who I trust are organizing and mobilizing your own communities by protesting, donating, signing letters and writing to government officials, creating art, singing, facilitating healing spaces, sharing information, speaking up, having hard conversations with loved ones, teaching our children, and all the different ways there are to fight against injustice.
May we move like the hummingbirds and flowers to create the world we want.
Additional resources on learning from the land
I recently finished Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass and it is easily one of my favourite books of all time, radically shifting my perspective on our (my) relationship to nature. It is a book to be savoured, not devoured, and I highly encourage you to take your time with this one, allowing the medicine of each page to flow through you.
adrienne marie brown’s Emergent Strategy deepened my reverence for nature and all of the lessons that we can derive from all the ecosystems around us in shaping the futures we want for ourselves and our descendants. It has given me the language to speak about the work that Living Hyphen has been doing all these years. An absolute must-read for anyone working towards social justice.
If you ever find yourself in Vancouver, check out my friends at Talaysay Tours who facilitate educational and inspirational land-based learning experiences about First Nations history, lore, legends, and ways of living.
The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben captures more of the wonders and wisdom of our elders – what they feel, how they communicate, and what they can teach us.