And then she brought up something so brilliant, I had to write it here: "The thing about that training, or about organizing or activism or whatever it is, is that it really depends on categorizing, simplifying, clarity. You know exactly who'd oppressing and who's oppressed, who's blind and who's conscious, whether the personalities you wanna have on board should come on or stay off. We can't help but do this, we have to, because our society shapes us that way and makes us suffer because of it, it rids the complexity and uncertainty and wholeness of our lives. So what would it be like to do work that doesn't do that? That builds itself out of that complexity and humanity that can't be pared down? Would that be...art?"
I think that's one of the clearest observations I've heard about the distinction--hazy as it is--between the work of organizing and the work of art. And I think it comes at a good time for me now, right when so much seems to be moving but to what, I have no idea.
In college I was a fair-to-middling student and a much better organizer. I was growing as a writer, performer, and musician, but I think for terrible reasons--clout, reputation, admiration, not really committed to the discipline, the hard work, the critical eye. I was good at half-assing and the accolades came in, but I disrespected and dishonored the art forms and the ones who have made them so amazing. And, much later, I realized my organizing was a lot of half-assing too. I think key to both lasting so long that way was that I made them easy. If I set up an event on campus and a good number of people came out for it, it was a success. If I performed a marimba solo and people still clapped at the end, that meant I was a great musician. I came up with these measuring sticks because I wanted to be certain about my skillz, to prove I was a good guy that everyone liked, and that was that. I guess I believed that, as an organizer, I could organize myself, hiding faults and trumpeting strengths, playing to popularity, appearing radical and also remarkably harmless.
So it's telling now, you know, I look at what excites me today and practically all of it is about writing, dance, music, cooking, learning, gift-giving, shit, even fashion and style are up there too, and almost none of it is about organizing. I'm a new addition to a social movement research collective, which sounds like it's about organizing but it's really all research and writing. I'm joining up with folks out here to put in a bid for bringing the national APIA spoken word summit to Minneapolis in 2011, which takes a lot of organizing work for sure, but I do it mostly cuz the Asian American writers and photographers and dancers and other artists out here are fucken rad and the Twin Cities are a regular art hotseat. Claudia and Asa and I just held our first monthly monochromatic potluck (green to start, baby!) and despite the 95 degree weather, I hadn't felt so joyful and inspired and bloated since forever, I'm talking a feeling of real surplus here people. I'm going to Detroit in July for a great many reasons, but mostly to learn, learn, learn from some amazing elders and heroes of mine, including Grace Lee Boggs. And then there's the grad school preparations, which probably has me more scared and more excited than anything else right now. Six years of learning, reading, writing, creativity--damn.
It all seemed rather hodgepodge and lacking in strategy as it all came together, but maybe this is just me making up for the wilderness years, moving from hard-line to complexity, the organized activist world to the ridiculous complexity that art can show when nothing else can. So even tho I'm still mad uncertain about all these currents, I'm less concerned now about where it all leads. I'll get to that one way or another.
Sis probably recognizes this about me better than anyone else right now. She liked me less when I was always like this:
And then, today:
Superficial judgment based off of appearances? Don't think so. What and where you are really guides what you show to the world. I know where I was at in the first picture, I know where I am in the second picture, and while I understand that aloof/hardened organizer look and the head that caused it, I sure as fuck won't be doing it again. Call it being healthy. Call it wising up already.
Today's No Greater Joy Than: stuffing your lovely maw with green dish after green dish at a potluck, pesto pasta and stir fry and pistachio brownies and cookies and snap peas and edamame and mo chi and popsicles and frozen bananas coated in chocolate and green coconut, and just when you think you're done, someone new arrives at the potluck bearing yet another dish. Top that yo.
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