The other day when discussing this tired joke of an election with a co-worker, they brought up that the crazy man (I refuse to say his name) may be coming into town for a big event (Donald Trump rally in Milwaukee tonight —Ed.). I expressed my disinterest and she said, “But I think you should go because there is going to be a protest.”
I thought for a second, and realized that I have not been to a rally or protest since the last one my student organization, Black United Students, and I organized during my undergrad. This was a weird thought because if you would have asked me when was the last time I had been to a protest, I would not have thought it wouldn’t have been that long ago. As I realized I had been thinking for a bit too long and she was still waiting for a response, I said, “I am not going to that protest, and do not feel the need to because my life has been a protest every day since birth.”
Initially, I made this comment in jest. However, I quickly realized how true this is for me and for many other people that live with the weight of their skin, genitalia, attraction, etc. every day and have to find something in themselves to face this world and all its B.S.
I had a praise break, as I tend to do because I grew up COGIC-AF (Church of God in Christ-Abundant Faith). I praised all the fight which fuels my body. I praised all the magic that keeps MY PEOPLE thriving and I shouted “Come through protest!”
I am not sure my co-worker, a white girl, completely understood my exuberance and why this thought, for me, was so praiseworthy.
I come from a radical tradition of transgressive people that if you were to ask them, they will tell you they were never supposed to make it. So when I say, “I am not going to the rally because I am an everyday protest, a riot, and that nameless joke of a politician will not have me standing out in the cold,” that is an acknowledgement of all the roads paved which make it possible for me to sit in this apartment on the east side (white side) of one of America’s most segregated cities and type away all this truth.
Right now, I am thinking about a conversation I had with my roommate about two weeks ago and I was going on an intellectual word vomit tour about the conditions that black people have come from and how beautiful it is to be a part of such a rich history. Toward the end of that conversation, he asked me, something to the effect of: What do you tell other black people to keep it going?
I love lists and stuff so I told him three things. These three things I encourage all people that live in a constant state of resistance to do is:
● Build/become a part of a supportive uplifting community
● Develop a radical reality of self-love
● RAISE HELL (in the words of a very dear friend)
So, no, I will not be attending the rally. I hope it goes well, but I will be too busy living, thriving, and surviving all that my heartbeat calls me to overcome. One of my favorite poets, Alok Vaid-Menon, says in their piece entitled “protest”:
“remember:
your first site of protest was
your body. your heart beat:
the most palpable chant
you have ever marched to.”
Amen.
