In my last post, I highlighted three “navigational markers” that are keeping me going in seas which feel rougher than usual. #1 is family and friends. Nuff said there.
But #2 and 3 are “using historians, legal minds, politicians and activists to keep myself inspired and motivated,” and then AMPLIFYING THAT INSPIRATION AND MOTIVATION.
That starts here, with an activist I’m willing to bet most (all but one?) of y’all have never heard of: Tomiekia Johnson.
Photo submitted by Nevaeh Lemons
Tomiekia and I have known each other for six years. I call her TJ; she calls me Gretch. We have never met, because I live on a small island in the Pacific Northwest, and she is incarcerated in central California.
Me writing TJ. (kidding–it’s Woman Writing a Letter, c. 1655, by Borsh, courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Eventually we got into (what I call) Planet Prison’s method of email—one more way for the Prison Industrial Complex to squeeze money out of people in need. Subject to constant censorship and glitches, it still allows a certain amount of back-and-forth missing from paper letters. This year, we added weekly phone calls to the mix. But it’s Tomiekia’s WRITING that I want to lift up here.
“Prison journalist” does not begin to describe this woman’s pounding energy in exposing injustice “behind barz.” Because inmates are severely limited in communication with the outside world, I took on the role of Tomiekia’s editor. She sends me rough drafts (in short chunks as required by Securus, a subsidiary of JPay). I edit, send chunks back. Lately, we’ve started editing over the phone. When we have a final draft, I pitch it to a series of online mags who’ve shown interest in Tomiekia’s voice and topics over the years.
We’re pretty proud of her latest in Prism, on the importance–practical and symbolic–of Black women’s hair care behind barz. Read it here.
NOT the braids TJ’s describing! (Couldn’t find a photo of Nipsey’s braids on Wikimedia)
My hope, shared by Tomiekia and her loved ones, is to amplify her voice, justice issues and energy by combining our forces. So: if you “like” and follow me? Subscribe to @therealtj on Substack. But don’t blame me if she blows your mind.
Chop. Swirl. Eddies. Currents. Unexpected wavelets, even waves, hitting from all sides, throwing you off balance, interfering with forward movement. Obscuring forward movement. Where am I headed, anyway? Where’s this interference coming from? Should I drift for a moment or power through? What new challenges will either choice unleash? Which way should I steer?
I am neither historian nor lobsterwoman. But—in case you’ve wondered whether Wing’s World has fallen off the face of the earth—I’ve been living this metaphor for the last several months. Chop, for me, has set blogging wayyyyy back as a priority. Only now am I coming to realize I might need this blog as a navigational marker to sail on through this stuff.
I have always considered myself the person least touched by adversity of any I’ve met. I even wrote a song about it, from the perspective of someone who got all the bad shit I’ve avoided: “Who got my sunshine, who got my ease?/Does she realize her fortune? Will you tell her, please?” The song ends, “Hope she’ll be ready when her skies turn black.”
This year, my skies finally darkened.
In December, my high school bestie died, with no chance to say goodbye. A week later, a close local friend died. In February, the Mate’s health circumstances took a hard turn. And in early June, my amazing father, Peter Klopfer, died.
Add to that the national shitstorm we’re all living through, and…
[photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons]
Another favorite topic of HCR (Heather Cox Richardson) is navigational markers. In my personal chop, I have decided to focus on these few to guide me:
Interdependence on and with family, friends and the Mate, more intentionally than ever in my life
Using historians, legal minds, politicians and activists to keep myself inspired and motivated
Using my own resources of time, money and WORDS to amplify that inspiration and motivation
I won’t blog about the first marker. But the other two? Watch this space.
From the wonderful online news source Salish Current in Bellingham, WA comes this heartening story by Nancy DeVaux. I promise you’ll find inspiration here.
No, this post isn’t about Zohran Mamdani. (Well, maybe a little.) I’ll skip straight to the moral of the story: if your adult offspring sends you a link, read ALL of it before reacting.
That said, sometimes reactions can lead somewhere positive. Let me explain that statement…and also, for those of you who don’t follow my blog, why I’m sending this to you.
Don’t be like me. Read on for explanation…
Son Two, Casey, has only dipped his toes into filmmaking. But (as he acknowledges) he’s dipped his toes into many things, so when he told us he was filming a promo for his feature, my thought was, Way to be creative–go get ’em, kid.
Then came the fundraising link for Anyone But Linda. I immediately clicked on the video–Hey, that’s my boy! And then came…
Wait. You’re raising money for a movie, now? When it feels like all hands on deck to keep folks in Minneapolis fed and housed, under the ICE/CBP siege?
Wait. If folks donate to you, what are they not going to donate to?
Wait. You’re a healthy millennial with more resources than many. You’re putting your time and energy into a movie?What about more hands-on action, like when you were helping detainees released from the ICE facility in Tacoma?
Such were my maternal reactions. Followed by…
I should be telling my son how proud I am. I should be contributing to his project. How can I tell him about my misgivings without damaging our relationship?
So I wrote Son Two a long letter, giving each of my concerns its own thoughtful, loving (I hoped) paragraph. I put it in an email, then reread it several times before hitting Send. My stomach hurt.
It helps that we’ve always had a great relationship. This pic’s a dozen years old, but the feeling remains.
Turns out I could’ve saved myself the gut-wrench. Not only did Casey write back with an equally long and heartfelt letter, not only did he suggest we talk that night, but when we did…
…he pointed out that the fundraising link contained the answers to ALL my concerns. In my haste to watch (and react to) the video, I had missed everything underneath. Like the mission statement:
“Given the state of the world, it’s no wonder so many have given up on politics. Hope is in short supply. This film is meant to reignite the flame of belief, not in unfair systems, but in the unique power of individuals to stand up to them – with a tickle, a wink, and a gentle nudging of the heart.” [emphasis mine]
And the synopsis:
“Linda Santori has been in office FOREVER and, like the rest of the establishment, she is totally out of touch with working class people. Or so says Suresh Palavairayan, the young progressive running to challenge her. The campaign is a long-shot…but Cole has a plan.
Adrift in his mid-20s, in an unfulfilling job and a relationship that’s lost its spark, Cole is searching for purpose. His social media addiction keeps him overly informed – and borderline depressed. Suresh’s firebrand rhetoric is just the push he has been needing, that sends him stumbling into a zany plan of action:
To open the path for new leadership, he will jump-scare the aging Congresswoman so badly that she decides to retire.
It barely makes sense and is hardly likely to succeed, but in this impulsive scheme Cole finds what he has been needing to believe in himself, in democracy, and the power that we each have to make a difference.” [emphasis mine]
This was exactly the passionate purpose I was wondering about. It’s no secret that Gen Z is likely to be the difference-maker in the elections of 2026 and 2028. Someone has to reach out to those dispirited Americans. Do I have any ideas how to? No…but Son Two does.
The rest of the fundraising site (which I’d missed) even answered my main question (above).
“Politics today are depressing. Social media bombards us with endless catastrophe and crisis; each one complex, urgent, and overwhelming. We feel powerless as individuals and our elected representatives can’t, or won’t, take meaningful action.
Yet across the country there are dozens of young progressive candidates challenging establishment politicians with grassroots campaigns. Up against corporate money, the key to their success has been thousands of individuals volunteering to canvass and phone-bank. These candidates are our hope for change and these volunteers are proof that each one of us can play a role in making that hope a reality.
We desperately need a story of politics that is uplifting. And relatable. And funny enough to make you remember it’s not all doom and gloom out there. Anybody But Linda is the political story that nudges you to find your purpose, even if it seems impractical.
With a small cast and few shooting locations, this feature film is designed to be produced like a short. This allows for a speedy timeline (shooting end of March) so that the film’s release will coincide with political primaries in June ahead of the midyear elections. The vision is to host community screenings that allow folks to come together in dialogue about the social and political themes of the film, and galvanize civic participation. It also means getting scrappy with the budgeting, so every dollar counts!
The production itself is an homage to grassroots organizing, with many people volunteering their valuable time and skills in support of a greater mission. Funds raised allow us to compensate our actors, crew, and host locations.” [emphasis mine]
The more I ponder the questions raised by the promo of Anyone But Linda, the more I find myself thinking, Maybe this story does have to do with Zohran Mamdani. Finding power, hope, purpose…in politics? Yes to that. This little movie, when made, won’t detract from anyone giving of themselves to help the next Mamdani, or the citizens of Minneapolis. This little movie can remind folks why they want to do just that.
Rev. Dr. William Barber [photo courtesy Wikimedia]
If we were back in my childhood of the 1960s-70s, all watching the same 3 or 4 channels, everyone would know this preacher. Everyone would have seen him preaching, heard him cajoling or roaring from the pulpit. Though his accent is eastern Carolina, not Atlanta, we would have known him the way we knew that other Rev. Dr., the one whose birthday is now a federal holiday.
But we’re all in our separate media silos now; separate channels, separate apps. Rev. Barber is back on the east coast (managing to pastor a congregation at Yale even while doing all this political work), and here on the west, I RARELY meet anyone who’s heard of him.
I’m trying to change that.
One of my very earliest memories is of the civil rights movement in my hometown of Durham, NC: holding hands and swaying in a demonstration, singing “We Shall Overcome.” I learned later that Duke students and faculty–including my dad–came out in support of Duke’s all-Black custodians, probably 1965.
Out here in the Pacific Northwest, all that history feels remote. Or it did until Trump, the Supreme Court and Project 2025 started attacking voting rights again. Now here we are, right back in the mid-60s, fighting to maintain what we thought we’d won.
The only difference? “We” is more than Black Americans now. “We” is we.
If you find yourself thinking, “We sure could use Dr. King now,” then
a) you’re not alone, and
b) meet Rev. Barber.
State troopers watch as marchers cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge over the Alabama River in Selma, Alabama as part of a civil rights march on March 9. Two days before troopers used excessive force driving marchers back across the bridge, killing one protester. [Courtesy Legal Defense Fund]
This February, Rev. Barber’s group, Repairers of the Breach, will be leading a march modeled on the famous Selma to Montgomery March of 1965. They’ll start in Wilson, NC on Feb. 11 and walk almost 50 miles (15 miles/day), finishing in Raleigh on Valentines Day. How I wish I could be there! I can’t…but I plan to support the march financially. And I plan to tell everyone I can about it.
Starting here. Because, who knows? Maybe you can be there. Maybe you can be part of that history.
Can you? And if not…can you send this post to someone who might be able to join, or support the marchers?
And if you do that, will you tell me about it?
PS: For more information, or to contact Rev. Barber & the Repairers of the Breach directly, click here.
“I’ve tuned out,” your adult son, your cousin, your sister-in-law tells you. “Politics is too f**cked up for me bother. And there’s nothing I can do anyway.”
I hope the first thing you do is to support your loved one for prioritizing self-care. But then I have a question for you to ask them.
What does the word “harvest” mean to you?
Wild blueberries? (Yes, this photo’s OLD. My knees don’t let me sit that way these days.)
That question popped into my mind last night while reading Joyce Vance’s Civil Discourse on Substack. She was asking legal expert Marc Elias (a lawyer who’s argued before the Supreme Court five times and counting) about what voters should be concerned about in 2026. Marc’s answer jolted me:
“According to Democracy Docket’s case tracker, there are about 170 active voting and election cases nationwide. Unfortunately, the majority of those cases (roughly 55%) are anti-voting cases that seek to make it harder to vote…”
Wait–who are these Bad Guys trying to keep Americans from voting? Will the feds crack down on them?
Nope. The Feds ARE the Bad Guys now. Says Marc:
“…One of the most important new developments this year is the Trump DOJ’s emergence as one of the most prolific sources of anti-voting litigation. In less than a year, the Department of Justice has filed 25 anti-voting lawsuits. While pro-democracy attorneys often found ourselves allied with the DOJ in the past, we are now forced to oppose them to prevent the federal government from trampling on voting rights.”
Joyce and Marc talking [Courtesy Civil Discourse]
“Okay, Gretchen,” you say, “What does this have to do with harvesting?”
Glad you asked. Because here’s the part that made me realize, even someone’s apolitical son, cousin or sister-in-law might want to know this.
When Joyce asked Marc how our federal government is going about the nitty-gritty of voter suppression, here’s what he told her:
“Trump’s Department of Justice is seeking a comprehensive database of sensitive personal information on virtually every person who might vote in 2026 and 2028. This includes names, addresses, Social Security numbers and dates of birth. In some states, it includes a voter’s race. In most places, it includes party registration, which elections a person has voted in, the method of voting they used, and whether they have moved.“
In other words: they’re harvesting our data. ALL of it. Not this kind of harvest…
…but this:
[image courtesy Wikimedia Commons]
Marc Elias goes on:
“Never before has the federal government sought all this information from nearly every state. Never before has the DOJ sued more than 20 states (most of which lean Democratic) to obtain it...We are seeing the weaponization of federal power against American voters, and I think this voter data collection effort by Trump’s DOJ could become the major story of the 2026 election cycle.”
So, ask your disaffected son, your cousin, your sister-in-law: “Is that what ‘harvest’ means to you? Are you comfortable with your own government harvesting your voting data in order to keep themselves in power?”
Harvest kale, not my proclivities.
If their answer is No…maybe suggest they look into Civil Discourse, or any other site that relies on lawyers, teachers and historians.
If YOU want to know more, join Substack and tune in to Joyce’s upcoming conversation with Marc, January 15th @ noon EST, where they will dive further into the questions of what’s going on with the data harvest, and what we can do about it.
They may not appreciate the question. But politics is choosing them, regardless of whether they choose politics. And as Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.“
And as Joyce Vance says, “We’re in this together.” Let’s try to keep the conversation going.
Fifteen years ago, I interviewed my LA-based cousin, Susi Kaminski Klein, about her experiences as a child survivor of the Holocaust. Over the course of four days, hanging out here on Lopez Island and visiting beautiful Victoria, BC, I recorded Susi narrating her story.
Susi & I taking a break from history in Butchart Gardens, 2010
Nine years ago, I blogged about Susi’s story as depicted in Jewish Journal of 2016. You can read that here.
Five years ago, with some urging, and a TON of formatting, research and illustration help from my cousin Helen (Susi’s daughter), we turned those notes into a book.
Helen should’ve gotten co-author billing!
But the lede I’m burying here is this: COUSIN HELEN WAS WAYYYY AHEAD OF ME! In 2011, four years earlier, she had already published the story of her father, Fred Klein. Here it is:
Something you have to understand: back then, self-publishing was HARD WORK. I’ll get to that part in a moment.
What I wanted to know was how Helen’s experience interviewing her father compared to mine, interviewing her mother, and…well, I’ll let Helen tell it. Cuz?
“This will be a short and possibly unexpected answer. I never interviewed my father to capture his story. My father started writing his book, believe it or not in 1997! He went through a number of iterations. During the process he found several people who were willing to edit his work and give him ideas on organization, grammar, etc. I was not involved in that process at all.”
Fred and Helen in 2015
Well, that tracks. Susi had separated and Fred by the time we met, so I never got to meet Fred. From what I’ve learned, I think he must have been an impressive man. Maybe daunting to interview? Not really, Helen said, but…
“I think I would have found it extremely challenging to interview my father. Not because he would not be willing but it is such a vast subject, I would really have had to figure out where to begin, how to organize and structure the questions etc. so honestly I am grateful my father wrote his story on his own and got some guidance from others on organization and structure.”
Keep in mind, my cousin’s working full-time during this entire period. When I interviewed Susi, I had just left my teaching job, so I had the time I needed to organize her story after capturing it on tape.
Helen and Fred in 2006
Also…as Fred Klein’s book cover intimates: he survived Auschwitz. While Susi’s story was horrific and traumatic, including her father being sent to the concentration camp Theresienstadt…it did not involve Auschwitz.
Full disclosure, I’m only partway through No Name, No Number, which is written as a mix of personal account and history lesson. History, I think, is more and more necessary these days when precious little Holocaust history is taught. But personal stories are the most poignant.
Here’s an excerpt from Ch. 7, where, in 1941, still living “freely” in Prague, teenage Fred is forced to labor on a collective farm. I have bolded sentences that especially capture the personal reality of the horror.
“For me, the worst part about the camp was the strenuous physical effort required. I was in extremely bad shape, not accustomed to the job, never having learned to push myself. Sometimes the grueling twelve-hour workday seemed like hell to me. I thought I would never last through them. I had to shovel some three hundred times earth up to a little metal wagon. Sometimes I had to carry very long tree-trunks with a fellow forced laborer. Most of my fellow inmates were in better shape than me and enjoyed teasing me. They had me carry the thick end of the tree-trunks which was so heavy that I almost collapsed, whereas the other fellow had it easy. Had I been in better shape, the work would have been exhausting, but tolerable.”
Fred as a still very young man, after the war, now living in Argentina
Here’s another excerpt, from Ch. 11, where in 1944, 22 year-old Fred is unloaded at the dreaded camp. Notice the detail in the middle of the passage:
“I jumped out of the cattle car. Barracks, barracks, barbed wire, gleaming lights. SS men with police dogs, wielding whips. Pajama-clad figures – kapos – and other prisoners, something I had never seen before. This place was cold, frightening, there was nothing soft to humanize it. I stared briefly at the hellish scene, and then I took off my glasses. Shouting and shoving, the kapos and prisoners herded us into rows five men deep and made us stand still. The dogs of the SS were poised to attack us. Somehow the pajama-clad prisoners got us moving forward in a single file.”
“I took off my glasses.” To me that act says, I will not look at this. I will get through it.
Fred with baby Helen in Buenos Aires, 1958
So, Helen– your dad wrote out his own book. Why was it not published right away?
“What I can tell you is that my father tried very, very hard to get his book published. He wrote lots of letters to a variety of publishers, but none of them seemed interested. I don’t even know if he ever got answers.”
It’s painful to reflect on this answer. There are so many Holocaust stories. The simple truth– that the sheer quantity of such traumatic stories affects their “marketability”–hurts my stomach.
Helen finishes:
“He finally gave up looking for a publisher, and sadly resorted to literally going to Kinkos, making copies of his book, getting the books comb-bound, and then trying to distribute his book that way.”
Ouch. But then here comes my cousin, to ease her father’s pathway:
“Originally, I published my father’s book in 2007 using Blurb.com. That process was long and tedious, but I pushed through it as I really, really wanted to get it done while my father was alive. Little did I know back in 2007, when I completed the publishing on Blurb, that my father would live to 100, something I am ever so grateful for!”
Helen & Fred in 2018
Which brings us back to this moment. Blurb.com no longer exists. Fred Klein passed away in 2022 (at the age of 100, as Helen said). But thanks to his daughter, Fred’s story lives on…easily available on Kindle!Click here to download and read No Name, No Number, for free.
I would like to thank my cousin Helen for her perseverance (not to mention all the photos!)…and my cousin Susi for hers. They are both role models for me.
And, in this season of deepest darkness, please say an extra prayer for the Fred Kleins of the world. May their stories find resonance.
I’ve asked one of my humans to write this letter for me, as writing is a challenge–me being an SUV and all. After what happened in the Oval Office on December 4, my humans wanted me to tell you they’ll “never buy another Ford!” But I just wanted to ask you, CEO Jim Farley…
“The Somalians should be out of here. They have destroyed our country.”
Or this:
“Most of those people” — meaning the Somali immigrants — “have destroyed Minnesota” and made it a “hellhole.”
Or this, about a woman who moved all the way to America from across the sea, got so much education and respect that she was elected by other Americans to represent them in their Congress:
Congresswoman Ilhan Omar “shouldn’t be allowed to be a congresswoman…and she should be thrown the hell out of our country.”
Omar “should not be — and her friends shouldn’t be allowed — frankly, they shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople, okay? They shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople because they don’t represent the interests of our country.”
You were right there, CEO Jim Farley of Ford Motor Company, MY company. My humans saw your picture. You are #14–not real visible in this shot, but don’t worry: it’s you.You were all nodding and laughing as the President said horrible, dangerous things about his fellow American humans. Things that could get them attacked–maybe even run into by SUVs like me. You should know that, Mr. Jim Farley.
(Picture ID’s by “Carlg1000” on BlueSky, as shared by Helen Kennedy on BlueSky)
You should have spoken up, Mr. Jim Farley. Said SOMETHING. You’re not an elected official. You’re a guy who makes cars. But you you just laughed and nodded away.
So you agree with the President, Mr. Jim Farley, CEO of Ford? You think Somali immigrants are “garbage”?
Do you have the guts to admit that to all the people who drive Fords like me?
Or do you just hope Ford drivers like my humans don’t notice?
[Note from Ol’ Blue’s human, Gretchen: Please share this photo as widely as possible. And if you have any connection to any of the other humans shown here cheerfully standing by for the President’s evil, racist rant–if they are your representative!–PLEASE call them on it. Literally.]
[As Joyce Vance says, “We’re all in this together.”]
This was my birthday present to myself, fresh from my Virginia-canvassing-and-family trip, and amped up–only a week later–by democracy’s powerful showing in the November 4 elections.
Notice I didn’t say Democrats (though they did well, and I’m glad). Nine months in to this presidency, people on all sides of politics–including no politics at all!–are starting to coalesce around the basic idea that things should work. And democracy, as Churchill famously said in 1947, is “the worst form of Government…except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.…” [ellipses added for emphasis]
In other words, for things to work (fairness, food, airplanes–that sorta thing), we need democracy. And when you look at election results more focused on immediate outcome than on party, here are some promising signs:
Maine anti-mail voting measure loses
Progressive DAs in Philly and NYC win
Colorado funds free school meals and SNAP support with taxes on the rich
Detroit elects first woman mayor
Cincinnati rejects JD Vance’s brother after endorsement
GOP Redistricting in Kansas failed
Charlotte approves transit tax
Maine passes gun control
Turnout in blue district US House election in Texas higher than 2024 Pres (thanks to Common Power for this compilation)
See what I mean? I have a lot of company in thinking, the IDEA of democracy is having a moment right now. And for democracy to work, we need all hands on deck.
“Wait a minute,” I can hear you saying. “I loathe phone-banking, and I’m donating all I can to things like food banks and my church. And now you want me to do take on ‘democracy’ too? I am SO not that person.”
Au contraire. I maintain that if you are looking out for vulnerable people; if you are protecting green spaces or animals; if you are reading to kids, or making art to share, or donating to organizations that multiply those values, you ARE a democracy standard-bearer.
I mean–don’t forget (or underestimate!) voting! Do all you can to keep your loved ones from feeling that voting’s not worth it. Point them to this book if they need a little inspiration…
I’m giving this book to everyone who’ll take it!
On my walk today I stopped to make a roadside bouquet. November in Washington State = pretty limited wildflowers. But the low-rent, multicolor assemblage I collected reminded me, there’s so many ways to be a flower!
You can be bright, demure, prickly, robust, delicate, complex or simple–and you can still call it democracy. Just do SOMETHING, keep doing it, and keep talking about it.
As Joyce Vance says, we’re in this together. And as Gretchen Wing says, “For things to work, we need democracy.”
What are some of your ways of participating? Anything new, anything especially challenging or rewarding, or both? Please share as many as you feel like.
Not that Joyce. Nothing against Dubliners or Ulysses; I just don’t think they’ll help get you through another week of our current presidency. I mean Joyce Vance, author of this book that was waiting for me, hot off its October 21st release, when I got home from my canvassing trip this week:
Mine’s autographed! 🙂
To judge a book by its cover, this one looks boring. To me, though, it looks like mental health. I thought I’d take a minute to explain why.
In 2022 and 2024, I canvassed in my home State of North Carolina, where my folks still live. This year Virginia has some important elections, so I went there (visits to sister & niece a bonus).
Part of Team Fredericksburg on the canvass trail
Between doors (we knocked on about 2,000 during the days I participated in Fredericksburg, then Richmond), I split my awe between the lovely big deciduous trees of the east…
O oaks, how do I miss thee!
…and creative Halloween decorations.
(sometimes both!)
But the best part of CP work, to me, isn’t actually the conversations on voters’ doorsteps (though those can be quite moving). It’s the TEAMWORK, the FELLOWSHIP.
especially at a dumpling restaurant at the end of a long day
Which brings me back to Joyce’s book, whose opening line is, “Could I have picked a worse time to write a book about saving democracy?”
My answer is: no, this is EXACTLY the right time. Because now more than ever, we need to know we “have friends everywhere” (as they say on Andor), and we need to get our hands on some how-to.
However, if podcasts are what your life has room for, Joyce is all over that landscape. I first discovered her via Substack, where her Civil Discourse unpacks the week’s latest legal WTF?!! as only a former U.S. Attorney (and current law professor) can. Each post ends with, “We’re all in this together.”
Or you might just as easily find her on the brilliant panel-pod, Sisters in Law…
While I’m only halfway through Vance’s book, I’m happy to report that the final chapter–titled We Are the Cavalry–is chock-full of options for resistance, participation, finding community, pointing yourself towards hope…or, as one heading puts it, “Understand That Protecting Democracy Comes in a Lot of Flavors.” (146)
This is Fredericksburg’s Rappahannock River at sunset. Not a flavor; it just looks like one, eh?
In this moment when the bad guys want us to despair and give up, Vance offers this uplifting reminder:
“Although we may be on our own, we are not all alone. We truly are in this together. We have one another, a community of like-minded people across the country who care about democracy. That may seem to be a slender thread, but it’s how we, like others who have faced similar challenges in the past, are going to get through this.
So, gather your resources and take courage.” (138)
Joyce’s chickens also make appearances on her Substack, so I’ll close with this:
[photo by Joyce Vance]
Do yourself a favor: Read Joyce. [Support her by clicking here to buy her book!] You will feel empowered–because, as she says, we’re all in this together.
