Thoughts on Organizing the Queer Left

Suzanne Pharr May 15th, 2009

Since the early 1990s, there has been an effort to organize the Queer Left, and now the work has a little more momentum due to the historical moment we are in and, remarkably, a little funding to Queers for Economic Justice to facilitate some organizing. The organizer is the very capable, hardworking, smart and dynamic Kenyon Farrow. Could I say more? It seems a well-timed opportunity for us to use to its fullest.

In a recent phone call, Kenyon and I talked about issues and concerns and strategies for this organizing:

• Is it a queer Left we are seeking or do we need something else, some other name or configuration?
• If it is the Queer Left, how do we define the Left? What are the broad shared values and principles?
• How would one become part of it? Is it something to be a member of, something to use as identification? What are the ways to create a critical mass? Convenings? New media?
• How can QEJ facilitate the organizing without “owning” the Queer Left or being perceived as being in charge of it?

The idea of bringing people together who work for social and economic justice revs my political motor. In my work I am privileged to sit in many small groups of people who are talking about movement building with an intersectional analysis, economic justice, and international connections. That so many people are having very similar conversations is an indication that we are on the verge of major change. I say on the verge because we are in a pre-movement stage where we are trying to figure out issues such as taking the leap (or building a bridge) from non-profit structures that are still isolated through competitive funding–to groups and organizations that are not the 501c3 arm of capitalism but are committed to working across organizational and community and national borders to make change. We are debating the best ways to make radical change: through campaigns to change policy, through re-building people, through mass education, etc.

As these groups grow, as goals and strategies are shared and build, a moment will come when they will be linked. And to change from the motor metaphor for a moment—we will think of small brush fires spreading. And here we have the fire next time—hopefully, the fire in our collective bellies for radical change.

That’s the big picture, but it is this building-the-queer-left opportunity that makes me want to race on the backroads of our organizing. One of the limitations of progressive movement building has been that it has focused for the most part on people who are affiliated with queer organizations and has not created ways to include and convene the thousands (millions) who include intersectional analysis and economic justice in their daily work. I think of Creating Change, where mostly people from queer organizations attend, and where the work on racial justice and intersectional organizing occur during the week before—when regular working people are at their jobs.

When I think of the great minds and social justice workers, I know so many in queer organizations but so very, very many more in other non-queer identified organizations and work. My partner, Renee, for example, is a former labor organizer and now is a counselor in an Appalachian school. And then my friend is Beth Richie, is a brilliant leader in Incite! Women of Color against Violence, who works on prison issues and is a professor. Or Steph Guilaud is one of the very smart and strategic young co-directors of Project South. Shelley Wascom is the director of Community Shares and is a fierce activist here in Knoxville. The list is enormous. I want us to find a way for all of these people to have connection, identification, and engagement with our queer part of the larger movement for social and economic justice. This possibility revs my political motor and puts me in gear because I have wanted it for decades.

Don’t let those motors idle.

The Gift of Grace

Suzanne Pharr February 12th, 2009

On the evening of January 31, 2009 at the annual Creating Change Conference, I was honored by Queers for Economic Justice for my “years of work on economic justice and LGBT liberation.” In response to requests for my short acceptance speech, I am posting it here.

(Acceptance of award from Queers for Economic Justice at Creating Change 2009)

The Gift of Grace

My work is honored here tonight, I believe, because I was given the gift of grace.

In my religious tradition—Methodist—which I left at a very young age but not before it made a permanent mark on me, I recall that Grace is defined as a realm of good you are given, not because you earned it or necessarily deserve it.

When I think back to the gifts of grace in my life, I remember

my farm parents in Georgia who worked through poverty and disability to raise their 8 children and support their church and community. They gave me my life, my values, my determination.

those teachers at the Women’s College of Georgia—a tiny college for the daughters of shopkeepers and farmers—who slipped anonymous envelopes containing $10 and $20 into my college post office box. Those great single women—lesbians all, I think—made it possible for me to go to school when I was down to the last penny from my wages.

the people of color—especially Civil Rights leaders and other women of color—who had deep conversations with me, who challenged me, who confronted me, who shared with me our Southern culture, who joined me in laughter and struggle. They never cast me aside.

people of every generation across race, class and gender—and especially the young—who shared their lives and their ideas and invited me to be a comrade.

I have tried to return that gift of grace in my work and life.

My role in this movement has been to listen to what you have said, to make a composite of it, to put it in plain language, and to reflect it back to you—because it is yours.

My passionate love of ideas and action has been nurtured by your own. You have given me the space and time and patience to work and grow with you.

That is an act of love, community, and grace.

I thank you for it.

Homophobia: A Weapon of Sexism marks its 20th.

Suzanne Pharr March 10th, 2008

Twenty years ago, I went to a cabin deep in the Arkansas woods, holed up with my two rat terriers for two months, and wrote the first draft of Homophobia: A Weapon of Sexism. It was not a difficult writing task because for seven years I had been schooled in its politics and principles through two privileged methods:

1) working with the spunky Women’s Project that took on intersectional politics and a courageous approach to community organizing in Arkansas;
2) and presenting hundreds of workshops on racism and homophobia to groups around the country who shared their experiences and political analysis with me.

Now, it is 20 years later, with 40,000+ copies sold and the Women’s Project, which receives its profits, is still hanging in there as a small nonprofit in Arkansas. The book’s success can be explained only by our ongoing need and desire to understand the importance of intersectional politics, the power of oppression, and the power of groups and individuals aligning themselves across identities and issues.

Homophobia: A Weapon of Sexism can be read on this blog. In the Time of the Right: Reflections on Liberation can be downloaded.

BACKWATER BREAKFAST: Pass (on) the Syrup, Please

Suzanne Pharr March 7th, 2008

By guest writers Pam Keeley, Jackie St. Joan & Kay Whitlock

They say what goes around comes around, but we didn’t think it would come around in quite this way. First, twenty-four years ago Ronald Reagan told us it’s Morning in America, speaking in bland homilies to create a tidy, white image of the nation. Now a group of leading feminists gathers in Manhattan and sends out a letter that it’s Morning in America (The Nation, March 17, 2008) again, and time for a series of kaffeeklatches or power breakfasts all over the country—to sort out the threats that the current election presents for feminists’ friendships and related movements.

We’ve felt the strain, too, but the NYC letter seems to us to be pretty lite. It’s not that we don’t respect these professionals with big institutional affiliations and media recognition. We do; many of them share parts of our own combined 120 years of activist history. We share the Hillary Clinton voter demographic, but we’re all active volunteers in the Barack Obama presidential campaign out West where we live.

So we took up the suggestion of more discussion, but we wanted to start just among ourselves—Obama supporters—before this well-intentioned rush to healing and unity muddled our thinking. We got together for a virtual breakfast, over tortillas, bad coffee, chicken-fried steak, granola, and orange juice reconstituted from concentrate, to figure out why we were so annoyed by the “Letter from Feminists on the Election.” Here’s how we see things:
Although they may be our friends who are doing it, we don’t want our politics confused with the politics of those feminists and others who through the Clinton campaign are doing the race/gender comparing and fueling resentments again. It’s not only the male media who is claiming that Obama is “stealing” the moment that belongs to…well, a particular white woman. And on the pro-Clinton blogosphere, who is comparing gender oppression to racial oppression, and insisting gender oppression is worse? We think that, at its root, the potential for racial resentment and rift is a (continuing) white (feminist) problem. (Jackie: Personally, I witnessed this in Iowa in January, where Hillary Clinton lost, fair and square. The next day at the Des Moines airport I overheard two different Clinton supporters on their cell phones bitterly telling friends back home, “They just can’t take the idea of a woman President.” I wanted to say, “No, sister, you’re wrong. Wake up.”)

None of us imagined that the “historic breakthrough moment for which we have all longed and worked hard” would become one moment, not two. We’re irked by the suggestion that it’s all marred by the false choice between race and gender. Nothing is marred. This is a potentially transformational moment in politics, where people seem to be making choices based on other considerations, as well. Even the old white guys seem to have accepted that we’ve ended up with a black man and a white woman running. Win or lose, these candidates are changing the American political landscape for all women and people of color. A large part of that potential, we believe, can be credited to the leadership and wisdom of Senator Obama, who took the lead in not playing any card.

What happened “to the last four decades of discussion about tokenism and multiple identities and the complex intersections of race, gender, sexuality, ethnicity and class” is that the women’s movement’s main strategy focused on developing big organizations that needed big funding to maintain themselves—all at the expense of continuing to do community organizing. As the movement went professional, professorial, and publishable, internal movement democracy suffered, and organizational agendas, decided in-house, replaced a commitment to mass movement building. Momentum plummeted. Some in our generation benefited personally, but politically we flubbed. But, today—good news!– cross-constituency organizing is alive and well in the Obama ground game and elsewhere, often led by young people of diverse colors and backgrounds.

Our sisters gathered in Manhattan worry “that the feminist movement’s real message is not being heard.” Which feminists? Which “real” message is that? We loved Rebecca Walker’s recent Huffington Post piece addressing this question. We see more creative and irreverent feminist energy out here than we’ve seen in decades. It’s in our sons and daughters who carry their children to Obama and Clinton rallies. What pisses us off is that this emergent energy is not being recognized by the women who helped create it. Now it is embodied in younger activists whose multi-issue organizing is touching people and exploding in different voices, and across generations in wild and astonishing ways. It’s not just about Obama/Clinton as popular music videos – Se Se Puede Cambiar and and Yes We Can – suggest. It’s about us.

Who is asking the candidates to deny their race or gender or to claim “by their very existence that misogyny and racism no longer exist?” The Clinton campaign’s belief that people are asking that of her may be part of why so many people feel she comes across as inauthentic. No one is asking Obama to deny being black. And he wouldn’t do so anyway. He wrote an entire book about that.

We think it’s OK for people to feel these days that many Americans are uniting for the first time around presidential candidates who are not white males. Of course this doesn’t mean that misogyny and racism no longer exist. And it doesn’t mean that we think the two Democratic candidates are equally good, or that there aren’t shortcomings on both sides. But some voters have transcended their own expectations of what is possible for female and black candidates. And some voters have even transcended expectations of themselves. This, even as sometimes both are “popularly and reductively caricatured in perniciously stereotypical ways.” We can rightly complain about the pundits. But what about the campaigns? Isn’t Clinton doing the same when she talks about Obama not being ready to be president? Or when she shouts out “Shame on you!” like she’s talking about a boy, not a man? And is the readiness on “day one” actually sexist code for the fact that she has a husband we can all fall back on in a crisis?
If “many women feel that a vote for Obama ‘cheats’ Clinton of her chance to break the glass ceiling, and many blacks feel that a vote for Clinton is a betrayal of the chance to break the race barrier,” then we urge any campaigns fostering such ideas to denounce and reject them. Loyalty to the issues of gender and racial justice should not be confused with loyalty to a female candidate and/or a candidate of color. Much as anyone might like the personal gratification of having someone who looks like oneself in the White House, we must be political beings first. We didn’t march and organize in the sixties and seventies to be guilt-tripped into voting for a candidate, on the basis of gender or race alone. The women’s movement at its best was never a voting bloc. It was a coalition that shared a belief in the power of women to change the world. There are men who believe this, too, and Senator Obama is one of them.
We do wish that both candidates would speak more directly to the problems women continue to face in this country and especially abroad—the impact of war, illiteracy, globalization, and feudalism on women and children, the ongoing gender violence everywhere, the growing, courageous movement of women to free themselves and their families through peaceful means, such as education, a pre-requisite for a sustainable democracy anywhere. Kavita Nandini Ramdas addresses this in her powerful article in The Nation, “Leveraging the Power of Race and Gender.”

How might we position ourselves so we’re not fighting one another?” By raising these issues, again and again, and insisting that our candidates do the same. Yet we should also recognize that there is no monolithic “feminism.” We will have strong political differences with each other from time to time. We should have more forthcoming and vigorous debates about these differences –disclosing our biases, defining our complaints, challenging claims with facts, analyzing and sharing – not less.

The times are changing, friends. We remember the older women (like ourselves now) who inspired us during the civil rights, farmworker organizing, anti-war, women’s movement days. Those are our role models now—with all our rowdiness, our history, our know-how—along with a good dose of humility and grace, which, frankly we also desperately need or no one will listen to us anyway. We can and will play a part, but, blessedly, it’s not just “our” movement any more. Move over and let younger generations have their day. We had ours.

So, on our morning in America we decided to extend an invitation for coffee on an upcoming August morning in Denver. Our place. August 24, 8:00 a.m. Give us a call. We’ll talk about how to nurture real movement building, not just electoral politics. You bring the blueberries, and next time we’ll skip the raspberries.

Authors’ Note:
Pam Keeley, an artist and nurse in Seattle, was an Obama staff member during the February caucuses in Washington and continues to work for his campaign. Jackie St. Joan, a writer and lawyer in Denver, volunteered for Obama in Iowa, Colorado, Texas and Ohio. Kay Whitlock is a writer and activist who lives in Missoula, Montana.

“The Futility of Hope”

Suzanne Pharr March 3rd, 2008

by guest writer, Renee DeLapp

I used to be a union organizer. Of the many things I learned about power, one lesson in particular has stuck with me through the years. It was from a video made by a former union organizer who became a “consultant” for management. As I recall the video, old-style management, when confronted with a union, absolutely demolished the union and union leaders. Problem being, when the union regrouped it came back stronger and smarter. The answer, this consultant said, is not to destroy a union, but instead to teach the futility of struggle. “Organize if you want to, but it won’t change anything.” The mantra: Don’t hope. The process: Don’t struggle. The outcome…

I’ve often wondered why, exactly, hope is so often treated as the antithesis of wisdom. I think it has something to do with the unbridled, transcendent power at its core. Hope is the heart of revolution. Without hope, no change is possible. Hope is the absolute predicate to possibility. So hope must be neutralized if power is to be maintained. And the best way to do that? Not by destroying it, but by teaching its futility.

So, how to marginalize hope? Feminize it. Dismiss it as “mere” emotion (read irrational, baseless). Patronize those who hold it. Make it a ‘feel-good, chic-flick, can’t-buy-groceries-with-it, save-it-for-Sunday, isn’t-that-cute, don’t-take-it-seriously, luxury-after-the-real work-gets-done’ kind of emotion.

So, much as I dislike a binary approach to just about anything, it seems to me that when it comes to hope there are two possibilities. The first, that we are powerlessly along for the ride on the world’s inalterable trajectory — along with the misery, injustice, violence, and destruction our hopelessness has allowed us to tolerate and create. The second, that if we have enough courage to acknowledge and act upon hope there is at least a possibility that we might alter the world’s trajectory. On bad days, I can make a damn good case for the first scenario. On other days, I can see beyond the thicket of cynicism I’ve built in a vain effort to protect myself from the pain should hope indeed prove an exercise in futility.

Andrea Smith—the Mind Will Not Be Contained

Suzanne Pharr February 28th, 2008

The news of Andrea Smith’s denial of tenure just reached me this morning. I am astounded but not surprised. I am astounded because I had mistakenly thought that the University of Michigan might be a large and brave enough container to hold and honor her great intellectual abilities, the breadth of her cut-to-the-bone analysis and pursuit of the truth. However, I am not surprised because for the last two decades there has been a successful conservative attack against intellectual freedom and scholarship—and the University of Michigan is its latest victim.

I have sat at many tables with Andy, as many of us call her. On many occasions, the subject has been violence against women. On others, it was the expansion of rightwing politics. Sometimes, it was taking a look at nonprofits and their funding and subsequent loss of ability to make real change. Often, it was gender and race. In every instance, she was brilliant and stretched my thinking in ways that often jolted me to consciousness from what in retrospect seemed a narrow place of my colonized thinking. My latest experience with her was on the stage of the US Social Forum in 2007 when she brought 5000 or more participants onto their feet exploding into applause and cheers for her rapid, complex analysis of the US, world domination, and women.

In the progressive movement, Andy is often considered to be without intellectual peer. Not only does she have what we admiringly call “a BIG brain,” but she is an activist, always working with others to put political analysis into political action. It is an extraordinarily combination. The analysis Andy gives us is never based on her opinions or feelings but is always carefully researched, framed, and delivered in ways that can directly affect how we go about making social change. Andy is one of the major teachers in my 68 year old life.

I have to wonder what the University of Michigan wants for its roster of tenured professors. Would greatness not be defined as being able to construct finely honed ideas based on broad research, both within the academy and from the field? Would a great professor not be someone who could communicate these ideas through teaching, writing, making speeches, working with students and community groups? Would a great professor not be someone who through her teaching and example always moves us beyond the narrow traditional containers for our ideas? Would a great professor not be someone who always courageously challenges us to look beyond the surface of conventional descriptions and explanations for the conditions and circumstances of the lives of real people?

Andy Smith—indigenous feminist intellectual, teacher, writer, and activist—how lucky the University of Michigan is to have her on their faculty. Don’t squander this opportunity to give Andrea Smith tenure and solid support to do her extraordinary work.

(Action alert sent out by University of Michigan students):

Native Feminism Without Apology!


Statement of University of Michigan Students and Faculty in Support of Andrea Smith’s Tenure Case

On February 22nd, 2008, University of Michigan’s College of Literature, Science and the Arts (LSA) issued a negative tenure recommendation for Assistant Professor Andrea Lee Smith. Jointly appointed in the Program in American Culture and the Department of Women’s Studies, Dr. Smith’s body of scholarship exemplifies scholarly excellence with widely circulated articles in peer-reviewed journals and numerous books in both university and independent presses including Native Americans and the Christian Right published this year by Duke University Press. Dr. Smith is one of the greatest indigenous feminist intellectuals of our time. A nominee for the 2005 Nobel Peace Prize, Dr. Smith has an outstanding academic and community record of service that is internationally and nationally recognized. She is a dedicated professor and mentor and she is an integral member of the University of Michigan (UM) intellectual community. Her reputation and pedagogical practices draw undergraduate and graduate students from all over campus and the nation.

Dr. Smith received the news about her tenure case while participating in the United States’ hearings before the Convention on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. Ironically, during those very same hearings, the 2003 U.S. Supreme Court decisions that restricted affirmative action policies at UM specifically were cited as violations of international law. At the same time, there is an undeniable link between the Department of Women’s Studies and LSA’s current tenure recommendations and the long history of institutional restrictions against faculty of color. In 2008, students of color are coming together to protest the way UM’s administration has fostered an environment wherein faculty of color are few and far between, Ethnic Studies course offerings have little financial and institutional support, and student services for students of color are decreasing each year.

To Support Professor Andrea Smith: The Provost must hear our responses! Write letters in support of Andrea Smith’s tenure case. Address email letters to ALL of the following:
Teresa Sullivan, Provost and Executive VP for Academic Affairs, LSA,
Lester Monts, Senior Vice Provost for Academic Affairs, LSA,
Mary Sue Coleman, President,
Voice your ideas on the web forum at

Abu Grahib Prison

Suzanne Pharr February 27th, 2008

(This piece was written during a two-week stay at Windcall, a place for social change activists to restore their energy and ideas in a beautiful natural setting. In it I reflect upon having seen a picture of Lynndie England that looked very much like me as a young tomboy in rural Georgia. Abu Grahib Prison still haunts me as a symbol of the US war on Iraq.)

I think I know you, Lynndie England,
you with your proud bright face
flashing two thumbs up
before a naked Muslim man
who tries to maintain dignity
as the flashing camera lights
record this small moment
of world domination
bannered in red, white and blue
on cars back home.

Back home, not so long ago
in your one stoplight West Virginia town
you were the kid
they called tomboy and smiled
when you dreamed of chasing tornadoes,
you flying along behind,
trying to lift up and be free.

How many times your President said,
“a war against the uncivilized.”
You were civilized.
You married a friend.
You were not queer. No.
Eleven months and a divorce
and you could catch the tornado tail
of the Iraq invasion,
a tomboy girl ready to be home
among guys, just as tough,
just as right for the USofA.

I think I know you, Lynndie England,
your face so like my own five decades ago
when I on my Georgia farm,
a tomboy among house dresses,
tried to travel through books
to some other place, brave and free.

How many times my Governor said,
“Bar the school doors from
the uncivilized Negroes.”
I could not be civilized enough.
Playing with boys and loving girls,
I found chance and scarce opportunity
joining the giants of the 60s
to set me free.

Who would we be, Lynndie England,
if tomboy spirits in country towns
could fly their dreams on rushing winds
where no soldiering, hiding or hating
were ever masked as freedom?
Where would we be if civilization
were defined as expansiveness of heart?

You and I, Lynndie England,
are made of the same country dirt,
sometimes green and growing,
sometimes racked with rocks,
always, always bearing history,
you and me.

July 2004

Co-Mentorship: Working for Equality Across Age

Suzanne Pharr February 25th, 2008

A few years ago, people in nonprofit organizations and foundations suddenly faced the idea that older activists were “aging out” and younger people would be needed at the heart of movement work. What followed were countless gatherings to discuss “intergenerational work,” “transitioning leadership,” “youth organizing and leadership development,” etc., etc. The funding followed the trend.

My take on this situation in general has been that too much talking is taking place between people who have not worked across generations, side by side. For two generations, young people have told me that there were few opportunities for them to grow and have leadership in social change organizations. They complained that older activists began most conversations with references to “back in the day.” Older activists told me that this new generation is not engaged, is unwilling to work hard, looks for entertainment instead of the development of ideas and strategy. As one solution, people began putting an emphasis on youth organizing as well as adjunct youth groups in organizations led by older people.

Neither approach has worked well as a means of multi-generational work.

What has worked best for me, as a 68 year old organizer, is the practice of co-mentorship. Because those of younger generations grew up in very different conditions from those I experienced in rural Georgia in the 40s and 50s, I am educated daily by hearing about their life experiences and the skills they acquired. In return, I share what I know to be true as viewed through a different generational (and perhaps race/class/gender) lens. We mentor each other through this moment, this present day that requires complex understanding and skills. Here’s what I know; tell me what you know—how can we figure this out together?

This co-mentorship works for me both in my large, multi-generational family as well as in my social change work. A large number of the people I strategize and organize with are under 30. Were it not for this co-mentorship, I would not be writing on a blog at this moment. It was smart young activists who, over a period of several resistant years, pushed me to do it. And how else would I have learned what I know about trans lives, issues and concerns? About the shifting forms of race and gender? And what would ever have motivated me to do text messaging on a regular basis?

Co-mentorship is a gift that is offered all of us every day. It requires only the fundamental belief that we are all people of worth, possessing a wide variety of experiences and skills. Its methods are asking questions and listening intently and respectfully for the answers. Where it leads us is toward the sometimes illusive dream of equality and justice—which can contain all our best ideas without requiring an age i.d.

The Politics of Longing and Desire

Suzanne Pharr February 21st, 2008

For several decades, I have traveled the country giving speeches and workshops. Much of what I know has come from contributions from people in those settings. Early in the 1990s as we began facing increasing rightwing attacks, I began to hear a repeated theme from social change groups: “When can we stop reacting just to attacks and begin building what we want?” At the same time, it seemed that the Right was growing in strength, and the number of progressive people and our ideas were diminishing.

A few years ago, after I finished being the director of the Highlander Center, I began talking in my speeches about the politics of longing and desire. What would it mean if we began our base-building and organizing from a place of people’s longing and desire ? It is a place where many of us share common dreams: to have self-determination for our lives and bodies; to have integration of mind, body, and spirit; to be recognized for our whole selves and identities; to be respected and considered persons of worth.

Though how we begin is not always an either/or choice, we know that organizing flows in one direction when it begins with fear and anger, and in another direction when it originates with longing and desire. The former requires immediacy and sometimes expediency and is often connected to survival. The latter takes a longer time: bringing people together, asking questions, making connections, developing vision. Both call for change and require action. The question I keep mulling over is what is the place—fear or desire—that is likely to produce the most sustained heat for bringing people together over time.

Beyond November

Suzanne Pharr February 20th, 2008

This is the comment I wish I had posted yesterday—before Obama swept Wisconsin and Hawaii—because it is not about Obama or Hillary or Mac. It is about the people’s great roar for change and involvement in the political process. It’s about people moving from stunned and despairing to inspired and hopeful. It is about a window opening, about fresh air, about the spirit moving.

While I am moved by the drama of the individual candidates as I watch much too much cable news reporting, I am most keenly affected by the voters, their voices speaking everywhere, their feet eager to get to the polls. I can’t get enough of the interviews, of the analysis of exit polls, of the pundits looking foolish in their failed predictions.

It is one of those amazing moments in history when almost everyone is caught off guard. A year ago, who would have thought? Republicans saying they don’t want to rehash the Vietnam War. Young people, written off by so many people over 40, rushing to register to vote (550,000 on Rock the Votes web site alone), campaigning for candidates, and getting their friends and families to vote. Ardent feminists, thought to be sealed along gender lines, voting for a black man. Religious conservatives threatening not to vote at all. Who among us could have predicted this?

And no one is caught more out of step than progressive people. Here is what looks like a sea change of thinking (and desire), and I cannot think of many individuals or groups that are prepared to work with the moment.

My question is this: who will cradle and nourish this hope and activism after the election? Certainly, no President can fulfill that hope in an immediate way. There’s sure to be disappointment, maybe disillusionment—unless there are collective ways for people to get involved in the process of making change.

That’s the local and national discussion I would like to be part of: what happens after November? What is our best thinking for catching and moving with this moment of change? It is time for expanding vision, for responding to longing and desire, for moving to our best selves and claiming a new day.

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