Going Coastal
North Carolina
Durham
Throughout the whole trip southward, Tracey and I are checking differences in temperature and sunset. We try to revel in every degree of warmth and minute of daylight gained, and we do, though we also note how it is always colder and darker than we anticipate. Especially Tracey. I tend to run warm. We cross into North Carolina believing this to finally be our inflection point, where an extra dose of solar radiation breaks through the mountains. It turns out to be a still gradual slope of sun.
Our first stop is Durham. I am familiar with Duke, from visiting a friend some time ago, but not with the city as a whole. We meet one friend of mine from Resource Generation, which has a strong North Carolina chapter. The day after we arrive, we learn that Reverend angel Kyodo Williams, sensei, a female, Black, social justice buddhist is speaking at the church nearby. I live-tweet the event. The Reverend even commented on the tweets, which swelled my heart-soul. I strongly encourage checking out her work.
Walking through Durham, I quickly learn how alive the art scene is in Durham. There are colorful murals everywhere from Pauli Murray, and a show of musicians of color organized by the Durham Artists Movement.
Because the show is also on Halloween weekend, and we are inspired by the art, and Tracey and I just always wanted to do something like this, we deck ourselves out in activist costume:
The music is both heartening and riotous, lovely and righteous. Grateful to say I have some new additions to my collection. (Looking at you, Laila Nur!)
By this time, mind you, I have moved from the juice fast to a water fast, and because mine is much shorter than Tracey’s, I take Smooth Move pills to help move along the cleansing process. I time them very poorly, though, because even though I evacuated my system plenty that night, my body woke me at about 4AM to tell me I had to *go*.
The nice thing about sleeping in a pickup truck is that we never had to “go home” after a night out. We stayed at the concert late, so we hopped into the truck, which we had parked on the side of a downtown street, and went directly to sleep. The trouble with this is that most cities smaller than New York do not have a 24/7 café to use in the middle of the night. So I am in a race against time on my phone trying to find a place that Google Maps says is open. I bank all my luck on the hotel a block away, and much to my surprise, they let me in. Everyone is so much more welcoming outside of New York. Really, it still amazes me.
Side Note: The hotel has glass doors to their bathrooms, that become opaque when they are locked. Really cool to look at when you are not about to completely empty your intestines. I later find out that Reverend Williams had used those same bathrooms and tweeted about them.
The next day, we attend Earthseed Land Cooperative’s blessing of their new land. They are a growing organization of farmers of color, doing Earth education and so much more. They feature performances, rituals, talks, and blessings. I get a strong sense of intention and intimacy from our brief attendance. Lovely.
Greensboro
That night, Tracey and I head to dinner with another Resource Generation friend, whom we stay with, named Bay Love (True story!). I am a day and a half into my water fast. It is really something to not be eating while watching others do so. Try it sometime.
Bay fills us in with political happenings, including the Beloved Community Center’s initiatives and the International Civil Rights Museum. The ICRM is the former Woolsworth Cafeteria where four freshmen college students began a sit-in that ignited the movement across the country. The four freshmen were not established organizers, and had no connections to non-profits or other organizations related to their sit-in. They came up with their own way to resist their oppression, and went with it. Inspiring… Especially when juxtaposed with the brutal imagery of the violence they endured. Do visit the museum. It features the original cafeteria. They also have a genuine Klan robe, donated to them by a family that found it among their grandfather’s belongings after he passed. (Imagine…)
One piece of history I was unfamiliar with blows my mind, the Greensboro Massacre of 1979:
Labor unions were building power, especially Black textile workers. The Ku Klux Klan was resisting this. The Communist Workers’ Party and other labor organizers of Greensboro had planned a “Death to the Klan” march through the town to demonstrate their commitment to labor and racial justice, among other things. Both the Klan and the American Nazi Party collude with and paid local law enforcement to look the other way. The KKK and the Nazis make a kill list. On the day of the rally, they kill four organizers and one organizer’s partner. They wound five more. I still marvel at the idea of anyone being shot at by both the KKK and Nazis, with police complicity, on US soil. I will return to this later.
That night, Tracey and I attend a meeting with Beloved Community Center. We were under the impression that we were meeting to canvass for Clinton, which I was very excited to do. It turned out, however, that this was an organizing meeting, to plan for a city council meeting the next day. We learn of a recent case of racialized police abuse (non-lethal), and that the city council was not releasing the minutes from their meeting relevant to the case. The organizers plan for their arguments, and how to appeal to the council.
The next day is my dry fast, where I neither eat nor drink for 24 hours. Supposedly, this is even more cleansing, and certainly harder. I have to move very slowly. But I am not about to miss the city council meeting, so Tracey and I attend. Everyone makes compelling, inspiring arguments. The city council — agreed. They voted to release the minutes of the meeting. We were thrilled.
That night, Bay showed us the police body camera footage of the case they were referring to. I had not realized such footage was available. I have a lot of feelings/thoughts about it, but I will let you have your own experience of it, if you decide to watch:
After a week of Tracey carrying things and driving for me (I did it for her during her fast), and after the slowest shower in my life, I finally break my fast. Maybe this is more imagined, but I feel the nutrients coarse through my system. And it feels good. I will continue to experiment with this.
That night, we attend another meeting with the BCC. We are told this one will for sure be a canvassing meeting. It turns out to be another organizing meeting, partly celebrating yesterday’s success, partly about future events. We appreciate this, and even get to speak with the director, Nelson Johnson. I realize that he was at the Greensboro Massacre of 1979. He was on the KKK/Nazi kill list. He was one of the wounded. I felt very humbled to confront that experience.
Winston-Salem
Scoping Facebook to see which of my people live where, I learn a college friend is now teaching English to refugees in Winston-Salem. She insists we interview them, not that we need to be convinced. Winston-Salem is not a sanctuary city, which refers to a city that has decided to de-prioritize deporting undocumented immigrants with no criminal records or with only minor offenses, in favor of focusing its resources on deporting undocumented immigrants convicted of more serious crimes. Winston-Salem does not do this, but does have more resources for documented refugees than the average town. The YMCA, where my friend Jill teaches English, is one of those resources.
It seems like a lot of Jill’s life is filled with refugees. Her job is teaching refugees. Her partner is a refugee. Her friends are refugees. Tracey and I manage to interview a lot of folk, and I am still sifting through the footage. I have, however, created a teaser video for the Syrian women we interviewed, ranging from junior high school to a mom. They are… giggly.
Asheville
We finally, finally, reach Asheville, hippy vegan haven of the East Coast. Cooperatively run, radical book store-cafés welcome us wholly. We attend a meeting with SURJ, Showing Up for Racial Justice, a group that helps White folk organize in solidarity with folk of color. We go to the aSHEville Museum, whose exhibits are all dedicated to gender equity. One of the exhibits features women who have won the Nobel Peace Prize. This happens to be around the time that Valparaiso University, the accrediting university of my grad program, is hosting Leymah Gbowee. Who is she? I will let aSHEville museum tell you:
More from the aSHEville Museum:
Among our favorite places in the city, though, is The BLOCK Off Biltmore, a “vegan and social justice solidarity bar.” We come often, and befriend Cam, the owner. The BLOCK hosts some awesome events, including conscious comedy, serves delicious food catered by chefs from the community, and also has this sign outside the bathroom:
The BLOCK is also hosting an election-viewing party (featuring vegan tamales). And Tracey and I are ready. We meet a camper-turned-staff friend from Youth Empowered Action, where I have taught activism for the past three summers. We three are very excited to usher in a new era of liberal representation, and make clear a denouncement of the bigotry and flippancy espoused by the GOP’s candidate. And then it turns 9 o’clock.
Plenty has been said about that night, and I myself have already compiled my favorite responses to the election. I think you can imagine our mood, too, as the bar was closing. Tracey and I, and millions of others, go to sleep hoping that some clarification will come in the morning. I realize it is not coming when Tracey wakes, checks her phone while I am still resting, and I hear a gentle, “No…”
