Author Archives: SEN

About SEN

Born on United Nations Day, I am actively involved in the process of figuring out how we can live together well on this planet, given our similar and different truth claims. Thanks for joining me on the journey!

Liberation, lineage and village: Why I am an Anabaptist

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Photo: The author (right) with her mother, Karen Diener Thompson (left) and her grandmother Carrie Yoder Diener.

Liberation: I view Anabaptism as a type of liberation theology that connects with the social movement centered on the renewal Jesus was pointing toward, the revelation he embodied and the revolution of values he was calling for. What seemed to be most salient for the early Anabaptists as they read Scripture were themes of justice, choice, peacemaking, testimony, judgement/apocalypse and sharing…

Lineage: …Lineage is important because it forms who I am. It’s not something I can shake off, even if I leave the beliefs and values aside…

Village: In addition to being from Elkhart and Goshen…Participating with other young adults in the cultivation of our global Anabaptist village gave me immense mentorship, learning and leadership development opportunities. Through them I received a meaningful initiation into global justice and international solidarity work. Over time I’ve also seen how Anabaptist movements and Mennonite institutions can fail, the harm people experience who then leave or get pushed out…

Read More at the Source: Liberation, lineage and village: Why I am an Anabaptist

Also, a shout out to abolitionists and voting-rights activists who are continuing their ancestors’ legacies of activism, 100 years later.

Ecological Justice musings for Mennonites

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This post is part of Mennonite Church USA’s Climate Justice: Learn, Pray, Join initiative.

Sarah Nahar (neé Thompson) is from the Great Lakes watershed, and now lives in Syracuse, New York (traditional Haudenosaunee land) where she is a PhD student in Religion and Environmental Studies. She is licensed with MC USA’s Central District Conference.

What drew you to your work in religion and environmental justice?

I joined the board of Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) while studying liberation theology at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary (AMBS). As I learned more about CPT’s work I felt a deep connection between violence done to communities that CPT accompanied, and violence done to the Earth where those communities lived. Corporate and state perpetrators of this violence claimed shrewd magnanimity — that they were developing other people and their lands, or simply doing what was necessary to maintain the standard of living in the U.S.

I began to read my seminary texts on liberation theology differently, noticing how the struggle of the people and the struggle of the earth are one.

Though the biblical text has been used to displace, destroy and justify domination of the rest of nature, as I began to put ecological liberation theology into action, I continued to see how the imperatives for climate justice appear throughout the text, from Genesis through Revelation (see the Jan. 2020 Mennonite Quarterly Review for scriptural work on this theme). Then in 2013 I had the opportunity to join a motley crew of circus performers, storytellers and musicians to bring the good news of the Bible’s message about human belonging in creation’s interconnectedness in outdoor theater productions.

The Carnival de Resistance was a month-long faith, arts and ecological justice activism experiment in urban re-wilding. Participants agreed to live collectively: in tents, off-grid and as fossil-fuel free as possible. It was in this context that I had a sustained encounter with a waterless toilet. While I had camping experience, I had never used a composting toilet. Initially, I was disgusted! But by the end of the month I experienced a profound conversion experience.

In the days following the Carnival, I noticed for the first time how toilets enable us to flush-and-forget. This mirrored so many other aspects of my life which created alienation from the impact of my actions. My perspective on how I released excess from my body completely changed as I came to see the advantages of ecological sanitation and became motivated to remove our carbon from the hydrological cycle.

I was inspired to dedicate the next part of my life to asking questions that take me to the intersection of religious practice and environmental science, specifically thinking about the modern concepts of “waste” and “away” and inviting people to translate the golden rule into water systems. What does it mean for you to “do unto those downstream as you would have those upstream do to you”?

What is the hardest thing in doing this work?

The hardest thing in this work is to keep my cool…and to stay warm. By this I mean that I encounter a lot of infuriating things in the news, particularly the murders of environmental justice activists all over the world. Each time, including today, that I see another person has been assassinated because they are working to protect ancestral, sacred, fertile land from being violated, I just dissolve inside. My heart sinks. I cannot keep my cool. So, I cry a lot.

And yet I somehow have to stay calm and focused in order to keep going in this long struggle. When I encounter people who don’t know about the massacres happening, the species and languages lost on a daily basis — and especially if they don’t care or tell me I’m too sensitive — it can be very hard for me to stay a warm and enthusiastic person. I used to keep a list of the names of the different aspects of diversity that went extinct, but these days it’s all coming at me too fast to maintain that practice. The speed of life being too much for all of us helps me have compassion for others who are also overwhelmed. I guess it helps that I laugh as much as I cry, hopefully a bit more.

What is the most rewarding thing in your work?

Making connections with others is the best part of doing this work. I’ve met people who are working at the intersections of religion, science, social justice, community cultivation, public works policy and rhetoric. It’s awesome! A fun coincidence is when I checked a book out of the library called The Origin of Feces: What Excrement Tells Us About Evolution, Ecology, and a Sustainable Society. Besides its catchy title that went straight to the heart of the matter, I noticed it was written by David Waltner-Toews, of Canada. I suspected this person was related to Mennonites in some way so I used my Menno-network to find him. I was able to get a phone call with him! It was a wonderful meeting. We have stayed in touch and he connected me to some people who work in key areas of water justice, popular advocacy and global sanitation issues.

How does your spiritual conviction integrate with your work?

Just as different parts of the body (1 Corinthians 12) cannot say to others that they have no need of them, we cannot say to the trees “I have no need of you.” For trees breathe in what we breathe out and we inhale what trees exhale.

Deeply incarnate, the body of Christ is the body of the world. The world is being crucified at this time, by the crowds of us who cannot seem to see the restorative options offered and by imperial systems that are intent on smashing dissent.

The world rises again, and the believers will rise again. Christ and creation are groaning together for redemption and the revelation of the children of God (Romans 8).

Even if your theology does not match my personal ecotheological perspective, there are so many ways to join together with other faith groups, through organizations like Interfaith Power and Light, to witness together on behalf of the common good.

What should the church know about climate change?

Humans have accelerated the climate crisis and we can decelerate it. This deceleration can be a part of our lifelong discipleship journey following Jesus in his path of communing with the elements, speaking truth to power, and embracing our humanity (including mortality and cosmic humility).

Doing ecological readings of Mennonite history can also provide new ways to see our movement’s relationship with the rest of planetary beings over time.

Addressing environmental racism is an imperative as we work towards a “just transition” — poor, Black, brown, and immigrant communities have been targeted for destruction more than other communities, and work for change should be led by those most impacted and their allies.

Taking action in this realm is not so much a matter of “feeling bad,” but analyzing systemic oppression and mobilizing resources and relationships to change the systems.

What can we do now to make a difference?

Try to create new liturgy that includes experiencing the elements as a part of the liturgy.

For example, you can use water for baptism from a local creek rather than the church tap. If the local creek is polluted, work with that theologically as well. Check in with Doug Kaufman for more info on this and other ways that help your church see that the climate catastrophe is “the moral equivalent of war and begin to take collective action” as Christian peacemakers.

Change can begin as simply as doing a traditional ritual outside the church (even in an urban setting…skyscrapers are part of Nature too). While paying attention to accessibility and safety, crafting ways for the church to enact ritual together outside will heighten sensation and deepen their meaning.

In English, waste is a verb that’s been made into a noun in order to place an arbitrary label on things we wish to push “away.” Since there is no away, one Sunday all congregants could bring in their garbage bags from the week, and pile them up in one location. Rather than shaming people for discarding (all living beings discard what they do not need) this activity is to bring the congregation together to collectively brainstorm about what could change since there is no away, and to see the items in the bags as discarded resources rather than “waste.”

We now know the 3Rs won’t cut it. Those are all about us as consumers. But we are producers and we need some producer responsibility. 90% of waste comes during the production of a product and 10% from its end user. There is an R for every disciple, and every son of Jacob! The youth group could memorize these and then create an image with them to be displayed in the church.

  1. Rethink
  2. Refuse
  3. Reduce
  4. Recover
  5. Replenish
  6. Reuse
  7. Repair
  8. Recycle
  9. Remodel
  10. Reach-out
  11. Restructure
  12. Remember

These rituals and opportunities for consideration could result in a lot of changes at the church… Cloth napkins for potluck?! Carpools to/from services?! A clothing swap in the fellowship hall!? Hire an environmental minister!?

Each congregation can come up with ideas that both bring people together, and bring people to the church, in the name of Jesus, in service to all beings.


This post is part of Mennonite Church USA’s Climate Justice: Learn, Pray, Join initiative

We invite you to:

Pray for those who are most vulnerable among us and who are most impacted by climate change, including those who have already been displaced.

Pray for the waters, the plants, all living creatures and the earth with gratitude, that we may recognize their sacredness and participate in their restoration.

Pray that we will find the motivation to respond to climate change in our own lives, congregations and communities.

Pray for local, community and business leaders to help make communities healthier and greener while centering those who are vulnerable. Pray that our political leaders and world leaders would become more active in reducing carbon emissions worldwide.

Pray for the youth and future generations, who will live with the growing consequences of climate change.

Find worship resources, a webinar, and ways to get involved in advocating for climate justice at mennoniteusa.org/climatejustice.

It’s World Toilet Day!

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Marcus, a researcher in Portugal invited all his friends around the world working on this topic to submit a mini-podcast about their work with the humble toilet and crucial sanitation systems.

The topics are: sanitation and health, ceramic materials for water filtration, sanitation and climate change, pro-environmental behavior adaptation, mindsets, identity, and the plight of sanitation workers! I talked about defecatory justice, and since we recorded it on Halloween, I was also dressed up as a toilet!

https://marcuserridge9.wixsite.com/toilettalks

Image Description: Sarah and her advisor Dr. Sharon Moran of SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry stand smiling. It’s Sharon’s toilet costume that Sarah is wearing. 🙂

Check out the POOP project to see what you can do with your contribution to the People’s Own Organic Power. Also Bill is right on time with his waterless toilet. The proof will be in adoption in the Global South and adaptation in the Global North. Also check out Sharon’s Lavatory Laboratory. Let’s create defecatory justice!

Featuring: Lost Species Day, the journey on Nov 30th and beyond

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I am so moved by their post that I want to share it in whole here. Please click the hyperlinks to go to their site to support their work and to be in direct conversation with them. ❤

ON RACISM AND ENVIRONMENTALIST PRACTICE – REFLECTIONS ON A JOURNEY

October 22, 2019

by Persephone Pearl, Rachel Porter and Emily Laurens

Please note that we acknowledge the complex structural barriers to inclusion faced by people due to class, ableism, educational and financial privilege, prejudice related to gender and sexuality and so on, but in this article we have chosen to focus on and discuss racism and white privilege as a formative societal influence.

The authors of this essay, the ‘we’ referred to here, are Persephone Pearl, Rachel Porter and Emily Laurens. We are white cisgender British women in our 40s, all educated to university level, all with children, all working in the arts. In 2011 we co-founded an environmental project called Lost Species Day and have dedicated a lot of time and love to the initiative over the years. In more recent years, this energy has become more reflective and critical of the movement and questioning of our work and its place in it. We have written this essay because, aware of the scale and rapidity of environmental degradation and its uneven impacts on people and places, we want to talk about white supremacy and how it plays out in the environmental movement. We hope that it will be useful to anyone concerned about climate and ecological breakdown, wanting to understand the history and drivers of this breakdown, and/or wanting to make links with social and racial justice movements. It is offered as a resource for people restless or dissatisfied with the language and practices of contemporary mainstream environmentalism. It is written in solidarity to frontline environmental and human rights defenders, and with love for everyone working for bold action on fossil fuels and extractivism. 

Remembrance Day for Lost Species (RDLS or Lost Species Day), now in its ninth year, is coming up again on November 30th. It is an unfunded initiative, an invitation to people to hold events exploring biodiversity loss on or around this date each year. It started as a demonstration outside parliament – in May 2010, as part of an overnight climate vigil, a few friends created a pop-up installation of a graveyard for extinct species on a patch of grass opposite the Houses of Parliament. We were fed up with feeling helpless and excluded from environmental policy. We wanted to make work that spoke to the scale of the ecological problems we were witnessing. 

After the climate vigil, we made a play, Funeral for Lost Species, in a real graveyard in Brighton. We imagined it was a graveyard for extinct species and that we were a team of celestial funeral directors, responsible for ensuring every species got a suitable send-off, thus ensuring the continuity of existence. It parodied the mainstream environmental movement and articulated Eurocentric culture’s de-sacralising drive, and the clash between science and spirituality in the Eurocentric paradigm. Mostly, though, we were glad to make a space for contemplation of biodiversity loss, and when the project ended we wanted to carry on doing this. 

It turned out that some people were making a memorial to extinct species on a hill in Sussex at that time. It felt apt to work with them, to continue exploring how to make rituals for the Anthropocene. We held the first Remembrance Day for Lost Species in November 2011, with a lot of support and interest. A supporter designed us a logo inspired by the extinction symbol, which was based on the image of an hourglass inside the circle of the earth. 

RDLS emerged as part of a wave of artist-led projects exploring the theme of mass extinction and collapse in the UK. Something important was being tapped into and explored, but the networks we were aware of consisted largely of white privileged people confronting the failings of capitalism and consumerism without including a proper analysis of the racialised underpinnings and workings of those power structures – an omission that could only come from a lack of awareness or care about how structural racism punishes some and privileges others.

After a few years, we saw that most Lost Species Day events were taking place in Europe and North America, and realised that an initiative like this, despite seeming imperative to us, unless examined, was largely irrelevant, particularly for people who are:

  • economically marginalised 
  • struggling for survival
  • on the front lines of climate breakdown
  • affected by conflict and colonialism
  • queer and trans people facing hate crimes, and other people facing human rights violations
  • in prison or at risk of imprisonment
  • facing persecution by the state and corporations
  • living lives that are entwined with those of endangered species and places

The list went on. We realised that our purported inclusive approach was in fact exclusionary due to its lack of an analysis of structural racism and classism. All are welcome!, went the cry – but these words, predicated on privilege, were hollow. Rather late in life, we realised that our brand of environmentalism was a product of racial and class privilege – and worse, that its ‘colour blindness’ colluded in the ongoingness of white supremacy. Privilege had led us to assume it was acceptable to focus on biodiversity loss without building this work on a foundation of solidarity and anti-racist practice. But as environmental communicator Susuana Amoah puts it, “white supremacy and colonialism are fundamental causal factors in the climate emergency”

Might remembrance for lost species contribute to cultural erasure? Arguably, focusing on the stories of extinct species without studying and discussing concomitant harms to people and cultures perpetuates white environmentalism’s huge history of cultural erasure and genocidal acts. Environmentalism is not exempt from racism. We finally recognised the all-subsuming power of whiteness, and the rule of white supremacy as a hegemonic ordering force globally and in our psyches. Canada-based scholar Audra Mitchell’s writing on white tears for extinct species made for reading that was hard but that we were instinctively drawn to. We made commitments to: 

  • turn to Black, indigenous, decolonial and people of colour activists, organisations, artists and academics for wisdom
  • pay attention to and amplify the voices of the people living through entwined genocides and ecocides
  • make the links between, rather than separate, the stories of harms to people and non-humans
  • remember that hurt feelings are not actual injuries, that as the beneficiaries of white supremacy we have a duty to speak and act on racism from our position of safety
  • ask ourselves daily, as scholar Imani Robinson invites us to, What are we going to do today to create the world we want to live in?

On Extinction Rebellion

We have watched Extinction Rebellion grow without building a critique of white supremacy into its central environmental messaging or organising structure. As part of a strategy that uses the rhetoric of emergency to reach the mainstream, this has been amazingly successful, and XR have done what they set out to do in terms of shifting the Overton Window on the climate emergency, and creating a mass movement – a colossal and vital achievement at a time when the speed of environmental change is escalating dizzyingly. There are doubtless many committed people working hard within Extinction Rebellion to address structural racism in its language and tactics, and to articulate a language of solidarity with impacted communities. But their efforts are not reflected in the public demands or practices of the organisation, which adopts – or co-opts – the tactics of the Civil Rights movement whilst maintaining majority white leadership, pro-police politics, and no demands or strategy for dismantling structural racism. Its language of emergency trumps inclusivity of process and depth of listening. 

Black Lives Matter UK (BLMUK) / Wretched of the Earth (WOTE) activist Joshua Virasami describes the historic and contemporary lack of connection between animal rights / environmental activism and human rights / social justice movements as “tragic”, and invites neighbourliness and the centring of solidarity and inclusion as core practices in environmental action. When white people turn up they can have a massive impact. White people in the UK are the demographic majority, with confidence born of freedom from exposure to micro-aggressions, fear of false accusations, arrest, overt violence, risk of death and countless disadvantages due to systemic racism. This and other aspects of privilege are very useful in service to justice. As of yet, too little support has been lent to the efforts of movements led by people on the front lines of environmental disaster, surviving multiple apocalypses over centuries of colonialism and exploitation. The ongoing disconnection from, and failure to honour, these movements is due to structural racism and internalised white supremacy, invisible to the beneficiaries, ruinous for the survivors and the victims. 

The mass silence and large absence of white people from movements that integrate work for racial justice does everyone a disservice. Without the warping lens of racism, it is obvious that movements for social change must centre and be led by those who are most affected, like the Civil Rights movement, Black Lives Matter and countless campaigns by frontline environmental protectors. The people most vulnerable to harms are the people most knowledgeable about those harms, experientially as opposed to ideologically. The white-dominated environmental movement must learn from other parts of the movement. It must centre and amplify the voices and perspectives of people with direct lived experience of climate-related harms. 

XR is an infant movement that has become powerful very quickly, with the help of a lot of funding and influential supporters. Its senior team needs to move quickly to incorporate a commitment to racial justice within its practice and core demands. A movement that ignores or minimises its responsibility to address white supremacy risks: 

  • Alienating diverse cultural groups and struggling to make up this lost ground later
  • Overshadowing and potentially diverting funding and support from pre-existing work by other activist groups
  • Intensifying danger for minority groups, as the absence of non-white perspectives in organising spaces creates more space for negative projections. Messages about scarcity and lack can feed prejudice about Black people and people of colour as ‘foreigners’ and ‘others’, and increase abuse and violence. 

Perhaps most significantly, actions by an environmental movement that does not address racism can generate a false sense of hope. Campaigns that do not incorporate social justice as foundational will not change the system in the likely event of inadequate governmental action on climate breakdown. Arguably, Extinction Rebellion’s politics and structures reproduce the racism on which capitalism depends. To quote Wretched of the Earth

Climate change has not happened by a sequence of small missteps; the economic structures that dominate us have been brought about by ongoing colonial projects whose sole purpose is the pursuit of domination and profit. For centuries, racism, sexism and classism have been necessary for this system to be upheld, and have shaped the conditions we find ourselves in.”

Social justice must be the backbone of the environmental movement

With a focus on quality of process rather than the default white activist mode of urgency and panic comes curiosity, and a stepping-back from righteous anger into more reflective modalities that unpick assumptions about how to make change. Adrienne maree brown’s work on Emergent Strategy is inspiring here. 

Having explored some of the ways in which white people use structural power consciously and unconsciously to ignore, undermine and erase initiatives led by Black people and people of colour, let’s explore how white people can consciously and strategically utilise racial privilege to serve and give power to frontliners. A few questions for campaigns and projects:

  1. Are there already existing Black, indigenous and people of colour-led initiatives doing similar work to the project you are undertaking? Could you be putting your energy into their cause? Or at least listening to their advice? If not, why not? Suzanne Dhaliwal has written extensively about this. 
  2. Are your strategies adding to threats to the safety of people of colour? Do they support migrant solidarity? Are they inclusive? Who do they exclude, and how? 
  3. Who is on the front lines of your efforts? Where are they in your movement?  Are their voices audible? Are they part of the leading team? If not, how might you work to change this? 

Making space for lost species: remembering extinct species, cultures and places

These questions bring us back to Lost Species Day, and how and whether to move forward with it. Can this project be decolonised, or do its roots in white privilege mean that it’s conceptually too flawed to ever be truly anti-racist? We don’t know yet, but we pledge to:

  • Research our ancestors’ relationships with the places where we live, and use RDLS as a way to reconnect with our local ecosystem
  • Use RDLS as an educational opportunity for people who want to learn more about the reality of accelerating global biodiversity collapse through an anti-racist lens
  • Promote RDLS as a space for emotional engagement with the devastating effects of colonialism and the extinction and climate crises
  • Put energy into collaborating with and growing other days of celebration and remembrance. For example, Indigenous Peoples’ Day, Trans Day of Remembrance, Black History Month.
  • Offer resources and service to Black and people of colour-led activist groups born from a drive for justice, doing explicitly decolonial and anti-racist work. For example, Black Lives Matter UK Wretched Of The Earth.

We hope – and we would welcome others’ views on this – that a recurring day of ecological and bio-cultural remembrance can be of service and of social relevance at this time of multitudinous apocalypses and structural harms. It can: 

  • Make spaces for remembering histories that are at continual risk of erasure and being forgotten
  • Offer a way for nature lovers into conversation about racism and its links with environmental harms
  • Offer space for exploring the concept of DIY rituals, and encouragement for people attempting the work of connection whilst being conscious of colonialism and cultural appropriation
  • Articulate the importance of the work of facing the grief of ecological severance, and make links between this and the grief of inhabiting inherited structures of white supremacy 
  • Point towards possibilities for personal, interpersonal and cultural healing
  • Articulate the fact that all people and beings constitute a living connected system – there is no ‘other’.

We have removed the original Lost Species Day logo from the RDLS platforms because of its visual connection with the extinction symbol which is now synonymous with Extinction Rebellion. We are grateful to N.Puttapipat and Matt Stanfield for allowing us to use their logo while we explore possibilities for a new logo that better articulates our aspiration that Lost Species Day emphasises the interconnectedness of extinct and critically endangered species, cultures and ecological communities, and promotes the message that whilst these losses are rooted in violent and discriminatory governing practices, the day provides an opportunity for participants to make or renew commitments to all who remain.

Persephone Pearl 

Rachel Porter 

Emily Laurens

October 20th 2019

With many thanks to colleagues and Lost Species Day project supporters who have advised on and helped edit this essay

RESOURCES

ONCA resources on environmental justice: https://onca.org.uk/category/environmental-justice/

Mary Annaïse Heglar on racism, memory and POC-led movements: https://medium.com/s/story/sorry-yall-but-climate-change-ain-t-the-first-existential-threat-b3c999267aa0

Audra Mitchell’s blog: https://worldlyir.wordpress.com/

Megan Hollingsworth on ecological grief: https://www.meganhollingsworth.com/blog-posts

Wretched of the Earth May 2019 letter to XR: https://www.redpepper.org.uk/an-open-letter-to-extinction-rebellion/

Emergent Strategy Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/emergentstrategyideationinstitute/

Ibram Kendi on redefining racism: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2019/08/19/the-fight-to-redefine-racism

Amélie Lamont’s Guide to Allyship: http://www.guidetoallyship.com/

Robin DiAngelo on inadequate responses to racism: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Jin7ISV85s

Julian Brave NoiseCat on racist history of environmental movement: https://www.vice.com/en_uk/article/bjwvn8/the-environmental-movement-needs-to-reckon-with-its-racist-history

Brighton Migrant Solidarity website: https://brightonmigrantsolidarity.wordpress.com/

October 2019 news on student-led campaign to decolonise higher education: https://www.expressandstar.com/news/uk-news/2019/10/18/uk-higher-education-must-be-decolonised-students-warn/

Gentle/Radical, Wales-based artist-led project connecting community, locality and social justice: Gentle/Radical 
Posted in: 2019environmental justice

Water, Water Everywhere

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This is the place where I will collect articles about what is happening with regards to water. Actually https://www.wateronline.com/ is where all of this is archived…they send about an email a day with information. These are just the articles I catch and wish to pop over here…so as to avoid having so many tabs open at once in my browser. 🙂

I’ve learned terms like muffin monster and fatberg. The first is a compact grinder that is tough on solids in sludge and sewage. Those solids are called fatbergs because it is the collection of fat, oils, “flushable wipes,”and grease–all intensely congealed together. A fuzzy filter is a type of filtration system for “wastewater”; there is so much humor from the people who work with our refuse. But fatbergs are no laughing matter. They will back everything up. One in London in 2015 was the size of a jumbo-jet.

Desalination collaboration, recent numbers say 1 billion face threat from climate crisis, wastewater use and recycling today,

One article in particular talked about the connection between the 2018 California wildfires, and water contamination. “In the aftermath of the blaze, government officials discovered yet another, unexpected casualty: the local water systems,” according to Undark. “Many of the region’s underground water pipes were contaminated with benzene and other cancer-causing chemicals, and they were sending that water into the buildings left standing.” NBC News reported that “Officials said they believed the contamination happened after the November firestorm created a toxic combination of gases in burning homes that got sucked into the water pipes as residents and firefighters drew water heavily.”

Resistant Antibiotics found in treated water, groundwater extraction imperiling watersheds,

Advanced Potty Training

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This phrase comes from Molly Winter, formerly of ReCode (watch her incredible TedTalk here). She recognizes that since we all got potty-trained and socialized in a certain way in the Global North (that of pooping and peeing in fresh water) it will take an advanced potty training to help us rethink how we poop and pee. We are both advocating for the expansion of integrated water systems. Right now in many places we have un-integrated water systems, and they are dis-integrating infra-structurally and metaphorically.

Middlebury was able to figure out how to take a step toward integration on one front. They’ve harnessed cow manure and food “waste” to produce renewable energy for their gas-based heating needs. I wrote them to see what it might take to add in humanure to that mix, so that it is not going in to rivers and streams. I think the next step may be to make various composting toilets available on campus and then put that material in with the rest of the biomass. Not sure. I’m just beginning this PhD examining this from a religious and environmental angle. Looking forward to learning.

Here is the full article…and here is another about how Oslo, Norway heats its homes from the sewage-generated heat underground.

Painting Elkhart

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This was really exciting. To meet youth who are giving their summer to painting the side of one of the buildings in Elkhart. I appreciate them, and their teacher ArtReach Director Elizabeth Sokolowski! I have passed that building for years and never saw how it could be a canvas. They are creating a huge “paint-drips-into-human-forms” mural in which the people are dancing in a tribute to the Elkhart Jazz Festival.

It’s so great to see how a younger generation and people from different perspectives see what you did not see in your own hometown. That’s why we need each other! Our perspectives in South Central haven’t always been recognized by the powers in City Hall, but we have made ourselves heard through great community organizing over the last two decades. Now someone from our neighborhood might even become mayor! Go Rod Roberson!

Speaking of South Central Elkhart, there is a desire to preserve the mural that Kelby Love painted with the help of Mark Chupp and many people making an intervention to “Drop Your Guns!” in the summer of 1996. Now more than ever, we need that message. The building alongside it is condemned, and various efforts are underway to think about how to re-create or conserve the brilliant imagery. May we find a relevant and widely-owned way to continue to spread the message of peace and cooperation.

Large and small in relationship

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I haven’t had a chance to write much from Thailand because I’ve been so overwhelmed with everything related to participating in the Rotary Peace Fellowship. I’ve needed to think in new, stretching ways. One concept I’ve been consistently bringing to the class is the relationship between how we are together in the class and life, as it relates to the end goal of world peace that we carry in our hearts. Below is a post from Pancho from Awakin Oakland, quoting adrienne maree brown. I first met her at the Allied Media Conference in Detroit, Michigan.

–by adrienne maree brown  (March 1, 2019)

A fractal is a never-ending pattern. Fractals are infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales. They are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop.

How we are at the small scale is how we are at the large scale. The patterns of the universe repeat at scale. There is a structural echo that suggests two things: one, that there are shapes and patterns fundamental to our universe, and two, that what we practice at a small scale can reverberate to the largest scale. […]

These patterns emerge at the local, regional, state, and global level—basically wherever two or more social change agents are gathered. There’s so much awareness around it, and some beautiful work happening to shift organizational cultures. And this may be the most important element to understand—that what we practice at the small scale sets the patterns for the whole system.

Grace Lee Boggs articulated it in what might be the most-used quote of my life: “Transform yourself to transform the world.” This doesn’t mean to get lost in the self, but rather to see our own lives and work and relationships as a front line, a first place we can practice justice, liberation, and alignment with each other and the Planet. […]

In 2012 I took a sabbatical, and I realized that I wasn’t upholding my end of the sacred bargain: My life is a miracle that cannot be recreated. I can never get these hours, weeks, years back. In a fractal conception, I am a cell-sized unit of the human organism, and I have to use my life to leverage a shift in the system by how I am, as much as with the things I do. This means actually being in my life, and it means bringing my values into my daily decision making. Each day should be lived on purpose.

This has meant increasing my intentionality about being with others. Adapting to the changes of life, yes, but with a clear and transparent intention to keep deepening with my loved ones and transforming together. It has meant getting in touch with my body and feelings in real time, and learning to express them. I am learning to engage in generative conflict, to say no, to feel my limits, taking time to feel my heartache when it comes—from living in the part of the Planet we call the U.S., from interpersonal trauma or grief, from movement losses. It has meant learning to work collaboratively, which goes against my inner “specialness.” […]

I am beginning to revel in the increased capacity that comes from working with and trusting others. I sleep, I center, I travel, I share. I have offered more room in my life to love, family, creating. Each day I feel more authentic, and more capable. I don’t experience failure much these days; I experience growth.

I have increased my practices of collaboration and storytelling as ways to share analysis, engaging and facilitating deep small transformations that pick up and echo each other towards a tipping point, organizing based in love and care rather than burnout and competition.

At a collective level, this is the invitation to practice the world we wish to see in the current landscape. Yes, resist the onslaught of oppression, but measure our success not just by what we stop, but by how many of us feel, and can say:

“I am living a life I don’t regret
A life that will resonate with my ancestors,
and with as many generations forward as I can imagine.
I am attending to the crises of my time with my best self,
I am of communities that are doing our collective best
to honor our ancestors and all humans to come.”

It’s lifework, with benefits. I regularly check in with my vision for our collective future and make adjustments on how I am living, what I am practicing, to be aligned with that future, to make it more possible.

As Albert Camus said: “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

–adrienne maree brown, excerpt from “Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds.” [Photograph by Ramnath Chandrasekhar]

In the trenches with Berta Cáceres

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In the trenches with Berta Cáceres

I just read this again tonight. As we approach the “longest night” I take time to remember the people, plants, and animals slain by our bloodthirsty system driven by profit. This is a beautiful piece, allowing the life and wit of Berta to live on!

Committee on U.S./Latin American Relations

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by Daniel Fireside
This article was originally published on medium.com. Posted here with permission from the author.

Berta Caceres, a 44-year old human rights and environmental activist, was murdered in the early morning of March 3, 2016. She was a member of the Lenca indigenous group of Honduras. The assassins broke into her home and shot her, killing Berta and wounding the Mexican sociologist and environmentalist, Gustavo Castro Soto.

Berta had received countless death threats for her activism. The indigenous rights organization she co-founded kept a eulogy for her on file. The Inter American Commission on Human Rights had ordered the government to protect her from attacks. The night of the assassination, however, the Honduran police claimed that they were mistakenly guarding the wrong house.

I met Berta in the spring of 2001 on an activist speaking tour

met Berta in the spring of 2001. I was hired…

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I met Mia while at Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia. She’s one of my favorite people.

via “Disability Justice” is Simply Another Term for Love

This was the opening keynote speech at the 2018 Disability Intersectionality Summit, in Cambridge, Massachusetts on Oct 13, 2018, by Mia Mingus. The official video recording of this keynote can be found here

Good morning everyone. Thank you so much for having me. Thank you to the organizers of this—I know it takes an incredible amount of work to put something like this on. And it is often the kind of work that happens behind the scenes and goes unnoticed. Thank you so much for all you’ve done. And I want to extend special thanks to Sandy,who’s been in contact with me—thank you.

In addition to the beautiful acknowledgement of the land and indigenous people we had today, I also want to extend gratitude to the people who clean and care for this building. The people who mop and vacuum the floors, clean the toilets, take out the trash and maintain the grounds. The people who built this building and all those who have been displaced from where we are as well.

When I started out doing disability justice work, before it was even called “disability justice,” these spaces were so rare. I want people to not take this space for granted because so many disabled people would kill to be here and so many people don’t have access to this type of space. And I know that for a lot of us, this I our political work, this is our life and we seek out these spaces, we create them. I want us to keep remembering that so many folks will never have access to these spaces and how do we keep reminding our selves of who is not in the room? All the different people who are not here.

And I know there are brilliant workshops scheduled for today. Workshops that will break down the connections between disability and prisons and immigration and race and gender and sexuality and dance and activism and so much more. I know the analysis will be brilliant and much needed.

And I found as I was typing away at my computer, the things that were coming up were not only analysis, but also story and feeling; longing and love for all of you and how precious it is to be here together, even just for a day. To be in a space where we can center disabled people of color, disabled queer and trans folks. To be in a cross-disability space and how rare that is too. Analysis, of course, but heart and breathe and body, too.

Because I want to express gratitude for this space—a space to hold disability and intersectionality, a disability justice space—because for decades of my life I didn’t have any spaces like this. I didn’t even have conversations that could hold this. I didn’t have people in my life who I could talk to about these things. And it would have meant the world to me to have a space to talk about how disability, race, gender, adoption, survivorship, violence, cure, queerness and so much more connected and collided in my life, as a disabled child who had no one to talk to about my own lived experience. Who had no one who could support me as I navigated the medical industrial complex on my own as a disabled girl korean transracial and transnational adoptee, surrounded by white abled adults and doctors, nurses and practitioners who often didn’t talk to me about what was happening, except to tell me what a “good patient” I was.

As I was preparing my remarks for today, I realized that there was a deep sadness that kept bubbling up in me. A deep longing and aching for what I wish I had had and grief for all I never had. A grief for all the other disabled kids and youth out there who are also so very isolated and the disabled people who would give anything to be able to have this kind of space—many of whom don’t know that these kinds of spaces even exist. Who are surviving, isolated in their families or communities and don’t know that we are gathering here today—that people have been gathering like this.

Because that was definitely me. I didn’t know. I was so isolated. I was so alone. And I know that so many of us can relate to that.

Because that is often what happens: when we start to connect with our dreams and our visions and our longings, we often tap into our grief and our sadness; our heartbreak and sorrow for what we never had. For the ways we wished our lives could have been. For the spaces we wish existed. For all that still is not.

I wish someone had been there to talk about disability in a complex and nuanced way—to be able to hold (what we now call) disability justice. I wish I had known that there was so much more out there, especially during the hardest times; especially when I was inside the medical industrial complex experiencing so much violence. Especially on those mornings when my blisters were still raw from the days and weeks before, but I was forced to put on my painful brace. A brace that didn’t need to be whole, but others needed me to wear so that I could be “the right kind of disabled child.” One who they needed to be seen as trying to be as abled as possible, trying to fix myself and my walk and my body to be something other than I was. Something other than I am.

Someone who now stands here after all the surgeries and the braces and the physical therapy and the forced healing, just as disabled as I was then. Because the cure didn’t work—as I knew it wouldn’t. It didn’t take, even though they really tried.

I think our stories are powerful and magnificent; and I hope you all will be able to share some of your stories here with each other because our lives so clearly encapsulate why we so desperately need these kinds of spaces. Our lives are illustrations of disability and intersectionality and there is a wealth of knowledge there for us to learn from and use.

And for so many of us, if we don’t tell our stories, who will? If we can’t share our stories with each other, whom can we share them with?

I often think about all the things needed to hold my story, just to name a few: someone who understands disability, ableism, abled supremacy; the medical industrial complex, histories and notions of cure, ugliness and the myth of beauty; race, white supremacy, orientalism, adoption, transracial adoption, transnational adoption, the commodification and ownership of children, immigration, forced migration; korea, diaspora, US imperialism, war, borders; the Caribbean, colonization, the US South, anti-black racism, slavery and the US slave trade system; misogyny, patriarchy, sexism, gender, domestic and sexual violence, child sexual abuse; feminism, queerness, queer people of color; rural lands, islands, rural communities. And how all of these intersect with each other.

I wonder what the things needed to hold your stories are? I wonder how many pieces of your story weren’t told because there wasn’t anyone who could understand and hold them? I wonder how many parts of all of our stories that we still have never told anyone because of this?

My story is just as much a story about korean adoptees and korea, as it is a story about disability, as it is a story about feminism and queerness and growing up on a rural island outside of the U.S. mainland.

A part of this symposium is not only revealing the connections of different systems of oppression, trauma and violence with disability; but also the connection of all of these things within our selves and our lives and refusing to cut ourselves and our stories up. Refusing to tell partial stories for other people’s convenience. Refusing to separate our work for the comfort of others.

Because this space should not be rare—this should be the norm. It should not be that we have to leave mainstream disability spaces (or even alternative disability spaces) to be able to be our full selves and have whole conversations—about our own lives. It shouldn’t be that we have to leave racial justice and people of color spaces to be able to fully name and examine how abled supremacy and white supremacy work hand-in-hand to oppress and target disabled people of color and all people of color at large. It shouldn’t be that we have to leave queer and feminist spaces to be able to talk about how gender oppression and ableism have deeply intertwined roots. And why it is just as important to abolish the gender binary, as it is to abolish abled supremacy.

It shouldn’t be that we have to go to the margins of the margins of the margins of the margins. And don’t get me wrong; I love living out there. There are amazing things and people out there. And it shouldn’t be that that’s the only place where we can be whole.

It shouldn’t be that we have to hold our tongues or risk backlash or be met with empty silence just to be able to talk about our own realities and the realities of our communities. Just to be able to talk about our own lives.

This is also a part of the isolation we face everyday.

In all of our sharp intersectional analysis, we must locate ourselves, our stories and where our lives live in all of their complexities: privilege, oppression, how we have been harmed and how we have been complicit in harm. None of here are innocent.

I think of this as a kind of access—liberatory access, that is. Because it is not enough to just make sure that we can get into the room or that the conversation is translated or that we can access the materials. And it is not enough for us to simply get to share what’s important to us (though I know that many times we don’t even get to share that), if no one knows how to hold what we are sharing; if no one knows how to understand and fully engage with what we are sharing. How many times have we been in rooms and shared our truths, only to be met with backlash, avoidance or blank faces and awkward silence because people have not done their own work to educate themselves to be able to meet us? Whether it is in white spaces, abled spaces, hearing spaces, neurotypical spaces? How many times has the conversation continued on as if we never shared at all?

I don’t just want technical and logistical access. I don’t just want inclusion, I want liberatory access and access intimacy. I want us to not only be able to be part of spaces, but for us to be able to fully engage in spaces. I don’t just want us to get a seat at someone else’s table, I want us to be able to build something more magnificent than a table, togetherwith our accomplices. I want us to be able to be understood and to be able to take part in principled struggle together—to be able to be human together. Not just placated or politely listened to.

I want this for us and I also want this from us. Because the moment we acknowledge intersectionality, it also means we must acknowledge and face ourselves. Because even within this room and out there on the live stream, there are many, many differences between us and between those that aren’t able to join us here. Some of us are immigrants, some of us are not; some of us are survivors of sexual violence, some of us are not. Some of us benefit from light skinned privilege and/or white passing privilege, some of us do not. Some of us benefit from anti-black racism, or hearing supremacy or a world built for cis people. I want us to do our work so that when people whose oppression benefits us, share their truths or their questions, we can meet them in those conversations. We can join them in principled struggle in conversations about activism, strategy, action, accountability and justice.

These kind of spaces (like the one we’re in today) often feel like tiny oases  in the middle of a desert, and that is real. And I would also like to offer that they can also serve as a microcosm of the world in which we currently exist and to think of them as any “safer” than anywhere else is an illusion. I would like to offer that multiple truths can exist and that one does not negate the other. This space can be both a welcomed respite from the unrelenting storm we are usually in andboth/and—it can also be a storm as well.

When I say “liberatory access,” I mean access that is more than simply having a ramp or being scent free or providing captions. Access for the sake of access or inclusion is not necessarily liberatory, but access done in the service of love, justice, connection and community is liberatory and has the power to transform. I want us to think beyond just knowing the “right things to say” and be able to truly engage. I want us to not only make sure things are accessible, but also work to transform the conditions that created that inaccessibility in the first place. To not only meet the immediate needs of access—whether that is access to spaces, or access to education and resources, or access to dignity and agency—but also work to make sure that the inaccessibility doesn’t happen again.

(This is also at the crux of transformative justice work I’m a part of: you work to not only address the harm and the immediate needs the harm created, but you also make sure that the harm does not happen again and that you are working to transform the conditions that allowed the harm to happen in the first place.)

Because, as we integrate disability justice into our political work more and more—as we grow it and cultivate it—we must also be mindful that it is not an easy fix, and if anything, disability justice will require us to work harder and dig deeper. Disability justice should not only be about our analysis and political work, but it should also encompass how we do our work and how we treat each other, as fellow disabled people with multiple oppressed identities and experiences. Because I know I am not alone when I say that some of my deepest wounds have come from other disabled people. I know I am not alone when I say that sometimes we can treat each other in more painful ways than those outside of our community have treated us.

As we work to change the world, we must also work to change ourselves. And we must support each other in that change. Ableism and other systems of oppression and violence have left their mark on us. We can’t, on the one hand, understand how devastating capitalism, misogyny and criminalization are and then on the other hand, pretend as if they don’t affect how we treat each other and ourselves. Because most of us treat ourselves in ways that we would never treat anyone else. Most of us are in an abusive relationship with ourselves and that helps to lay the groundwork for abuse in the world.

Because no matter how on-point our analysis is, if we can’t treat each other well, our work will not get far. Because the systems we are up against will require collective work—if we could have changed them on our own, we would have already done it—and collective work requires that we are in relationship with each other in some way shape or form.

It is always so amazing to me that disabled people, who are so incredibly isolated and exiled, will also isolate and exile each other. And I know most of us have been on both sides of this.

Now, I am not saying that we all have to be besties with each other or that people don’t need to be accountable for their actions and/or harm they have done—they absolutely do. What I’m saying is that disability justice requires us to understand intersectionality, and intersectionality requires that we learn how to hold and value difference and contradictions. (e.g. you can be both oppressed and privileged by the same identity. You can have survived harm and do harm. These are contradictions that we all hold. I’m sure that all of us have been harmed in this room and all of us have either harmed or participated in harm or looked away from harm in some way shape or form. Whether it’s via our privilege or whatever else it may be.) What I’m saying is that it is not only “those people out there” who need to change, but it is “us in here” as well. What I am saying is that isolation, exclusion and erasure has been destructively wielded against us and our communities, so why would we want to wield them against each other?

Because I would argue that “disability justice” is simply another term for love. And so is “solidarity,” “access,” and “access intimacy.” I would argue that our work for liberation is simply a practice of love—one of the deepest and most profound there is. And the creation of this space is an act of love.

And if we can’t love each other and ourselves, then what good is any of our work to get free? If we can’t reach out to break isolation and the walls we’ve put up between each other, as disabled people, then we will have already lost before we’ve won any political battle. What good is it if we can wage amazing campaigns, if we all end up hating each other in the end? If we can’t practice addressing the hard things between each other, then how will we ever have a fighting chance to address the hard things in this world that keep our peoples locked up and locked out?

We have to work to transform the world, but we can only do that effectively if we can work to transform ourselves and our relationships with each other at the same time. Because our work depends on us and our relationships with each other. And if anyone is worth it, it is us and the generations of disabled children and people coming after us. We have a responsibility to leave them a legacy worth fighting for. To leave them powerful stories of not only how we were able to shut down prisons and I.C.E., but also how we were able to come through harm together, for the better. How we were able to make amends with our disabled kin and heal together. One of the greatest ways to resist abled supremacy is by loving each other. How we were able to practice transformative love together in the face of fear, isolation and heartbreak. And I know that there’s a lot of heartbreak.

This is how we practice interdependenceThis is how we practice trust and belonging and hope. This is how we practice disability justice in its most powerful and magnificent potential.

So, I hope you all have a wonderful symposium and thank you so much for having me.

Disability Justice, by Mia Mingus