When I was 18, I traveled to South Africa with a group of other college classmates to work with local organizations on voter education for their first free and democratic elections. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Like many others in my generation, I was aware of South African apartheid and incensed by it. I recall the protests and sanctions. As an African American, I felt a deep kinship with Black and “colored” South Africans. When the chance to work there arose, I was ready to go.
My parents were less excited about the idea. At that time, South Africa was the most dangerous place in sub-Saharan Africa. While apartheid was officially over, there were still tanks outside of elementary schools. My South African peers were physically tortured for their student activism. There were still significant amounts of intimidation for working for racial equality and justice. My parents were not wrong to be concerned.
When I arrived in South Africa, all these things were true.
And …
People were still living their lives.
They were still falling in love, delighting in the taste of a ripe avocado, raising their families, singing in church and going to work. Kids were still going to school and playing games with chalk and earth. They were still …. doing life. Life and love and labor didn’t stop during apartheid or the freedom struggle.
In today’s US political climate, there is so much uncertainty and danger. It’s a frightening place to be for queer folk, Black folk, poor folk, immigrant folk, birthing folk, anyone who could be construed as those folk – and so many more. It’s hard to know what to say or do or write. Any level of political activism, voice, or dissent can be a threat to safety.
I’m taking a cue from my experience in South Africa.
I’m … doing life.
I’m not politically oblivious. I support the people and causes that align with my values. I continue to educate in accurate and therefore revolutionary ways. I refuse to squelch my voice – or those of my loved ones.
But I’m still cooking, driving my kid to school, cheering at football and baseball games, checking homework, mentoring students, making doctor appointments, saying my prayers and occasionally delighting in the taste of a ripe avocado.
I’m not sure the freedom struggle ever ends. But it does feel more intense and necessary and scary right now. And being able to do life in its midst may well be a big part of the revolution too.
How are you life-ing these days?
Dr. Monica
