"Poetry is not a Luxury" - Audre Lorde

Notes from a Gender Professor in Washington D.C.

Photo Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture

Lately, I have been silent on here. That doesn’t mean that I have checked out, if anything my mind is on fire. Formulating, strategizing, discussing, consulting, preparing for what is coming down the tracks. As I watch the attacks on universities in the U.S. I am running as fast as I can, trying to stay one step ahead of this bogey man.

That used to be a recurring nightmare I had, a man chasing me down dark alleyways, now it feels like my reality. But it isn’t only one man, it is “the regime”. I have been feeling scared. Scared for the courses I teach on gender. Scared for my students. Scared for them not being able to do the important life-saving work we were preparing them for. Scared for myself as an immigrant in the U.S. Scared for the university system and the attack on intellectual thought, research, and academic freedom. All of this is terrifying in a way I had never imagined. It has created a blanket of fear around my daily life.

And then I remind myself that 80% of the global population lives in countries that are either unfree and under authoritarian regimes, or are partially free and living in illiberal democracies. The truth is that we are now getting a taste of how most people live, and it is them we must turn to for their wisdom, knowledge, and guidance. Who am I if I do not step into the fray and fiercely protect those things, those people, and this planet that I love?

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Last week I was invited to a multicultural afternoon tea and a panel discussion titled “voices of resilience”. The event was put together by a student organization I co-founded. The young women created a beautiful environment with Orchids on each of the tables, a delicious array of food, and a variety of refreshing teas. Some students even showed up in traditional dress. It was a true celebration of all of their hard work during the academic year, including practical experience gleaned from their internships with not-for-profit organizations.

Earlier in the day I questioned whether I had anything to offer to the conversation. I was feeling tense and anxious after a series of meetings with my colleagues outlining my concerns and discussing potential paths forward for my program. So, I did what I always do when I am stuck on something, I pulled out my notebook and began free writing.

Memories of earlier times as a feminist activist floated into my mind. Working with women-led groups in Belfast and Derry in Northern Ireland, who were strategizing for sustainable peace in their communities. How they embraced me and worked with me, generously offering their time and allyship. The incredible feminist academics and brave activists I have had the good fortune to meet and work with on a variety of different projects, most of whom have experienced fierce resistance at one time or another.

One of those women, Inez McCormack, was the chair of the civil society working group who led the consultation process for Ireland’s first national action plan (foreign policy) on women, peace and security. She was the first woman president of the Irish Congress of Trade Unionists, and a leader in the Civil Rights Movement in Northern Ireland, and a huge inspiration to me.

Inez McCormack, Civil Rights Leader, Trade Unionist, Human Rights Activist, Feminist

“Write everything down,” she would say to me, “keep a paper trail, gather your evidence.”

I never forgot that lesson and its importance. We need to document what is happening to us, both on the inside as well as on the outside. The political environment, and its affects within us. Lest we forget in a few years time and they become normalized. We need to map how the stories overlap and intertwine. How they shape us and who we are becoming. Our silences. Our voices. Our actions. Our inaction. Why we go small. How we expand.

As I continued free writing more images floated into my mind. I saw myself standing in an art gallery in Berlin in front of the Frida Kahlo painting, The Two Fridas, with tears rolling down my cheeks. I travelled there to immerse myself in her story, and to learn from her courageous life and art.

Frida painted about her physical pain from spinal injury, her inner world, her miscarriages, her love affairs, and her broken heart. She was one of the first women artists to lay it all bare, her emotional world and her psychological torment and trauma. The clothes she wore and her hairstyle, plaits atop her head, were an act of solidarity with indigenous people and the protection of their culture. She turned her life into a visual protest against imperialism and the Europeanization of Mexico. She cared deeply, and this emanated not only through her work but in how she lived each day. She didn’t let her injury and disability stop her from creatively expressing herself. Instead, she centered her wound, and in so doing she connected deeply with other marginalized people, taking back her power and daring to tell new stories of what it is to be a woman, in a specific place and moment in history.

The Two Fridas by Frida Kahlo, 1939

As I continued writing, images of Audre Lorde and her beautiful essay Poetry is not a Luxury floated into my consciousness. I have read the opening lines of her essay over and over again in the hopes that they will sink into the marrow of my bones, give me courage, and shape who I become and how I live my life. She says:

The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product which we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives. It is within this light that we form those ideas by which we pursue our magic and make it realized. This is poetry as illumination, for it is through poetry that we give name to those ideas which are, until the poem, nameless and formless-about to be birthed, but already felt. […] As we learn to bear the intimacy of scrutiny, and to flourish within it, as we learn to use the products of that scrutiny for power within our living, those fears which rule our lives and form our silences begin to lose their control over us.

Writing, whether it is poetry or some other form of storytelling, is a radical act of reclaiming ourselves and revealing who we are and what we really think, both to ourselves and to the world. It is a way of breaking out of the patriarchal trance we are all caught in, and envisioning new possibilities for our lives and for our communities. By connecting with our emotions - especially difficult ones like anger - we begin to understand what really matters to us and what we care about. And it is this emotional fuel, if focused wisely and strategically, that can connect us with our power and shape our actions. Audre taught us that by example as a civil rights activist, a feminist, and a poet.

…we learn more and more to cherish our feelings, and to respect those hidden sources of our power from where true knowledge and therefore lasting action comes.

As you read her essay, it feels like she is reaching her hands across time and cradling you in her arms, reminding you that it is through our ability to feel and dream and connect deeply with ourselves that we meet “the core fountain of our power”.

…and it is our dreams that point the way to freedom. They are made realizable through our poems that give us the strength and courage to see, to feel, to speak, and to dare.

Photo Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture

As I let these words sink into me I closed my notebook and took a deep breath. This moment is shaping us all, it is calling us forth to harness our emotions, use them to take strategic action, and fiercely protect those things we love by making brave and difficult decisions.

When I participated in the event organized by my students, l felt fuller, nourished and supported by the legacy of those incredible women who I had reflected on earlier. They reminded me that we can be a source of inspiration, power, and hope for everyone we come into contact with. We don’t have to be world-renowned artists, poets, or human rights activists to have an impact. We can harness our power by coming into community with each other, remembering where we came from, who went before us, how we can take action, and who we can become.

With my fellow panelists: Iman Awad, National Director of Policy and Advocacy, EmgageUSA (far left) and Amina Shams, Cofounder & Executive Director, BLOOM Charity (second from right) with one of our students Aleena Zirvi (in the blue Shalwar Kameez).

Taking care of ourselves in this moment is a radical act of political resistance.

Speaking out when we can. Remaining silent when we need to think, prepare, and strategize. Becoming action-oriented when we gather with our communities and mobilize for change.

Each day, with each decision, we become more fiercely and protectively ourselves, and that can only be a good thing.

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