Sociology and Social Change: Daily Activism Grounded in Hope

Sociological meanderings towards collective well-being.

For Thanksgiving, my wife and I drove to Colorado to spend the holiday with my parents. It had been over five years since the last time we did that drive; fifteen hours in the car, most of the time spent on I-80 through Iowa and Nebraska. We listened to podcasts and looked out the window.

Iowa’s landscape is now shaped by the very tall and very white windmills that garner energy. According to the Iowa Environmental Council, Iowa produces 57 percent of the nation’s wind energy. Once we made it into Colorado–in the Eastern region of the state, before the mountains appear–I looked out over a blackened topography. Given recent history, I assumed fire, but as we moved closer it became clear that it was a solar panel farm (if that’s what it’s called).

At one point in time, these things didn’t exist. Now they do. Two dudes in the 1800s developed the technology that set the stage, and then more humans stepped in to continue development, and here we are now, looking out the window at a horizon filled with solar panels and wind turbines.

While in Colorado, we ate lunch at a restaurant housed in the historic Stanley Hotel; my brother and sister-in-law joined us for the day. While the restaurant is (in)famous for its relationship to the film, The Shining, the true history is in energy. In 1897 the Stanley brothers built a steam-powered car that broke speed records. According to Wired magazine, the Stanley’s cars “outsold every gasoline model until 1917…” They built expensive cars–prided on aesthetics–and went out of business, largely due to competition from Ford. These inventors, these cars, and this technology was built on the earlier inventions of Thomas Newcomen and James Watt in the 1700s. All of it made mass production possible, fueled the Industrial Revolution, and became the technological building blocks of capitalism.

At one point in time, all we had for transportation were our own two feet. This, on its own, was a huge evolutionary feat.

At one point in time, humans didn’t know fire or seeds or animal husbandry. But the human brain being what it is, humans adapted and developed the technology that led to cultivation, agriculture, and to modern society. One day most humans were hunters and gatherers, and then, we weren’t. Now we buy Pop-Tarts at the grocery store and many of us don’t know how to grow our own food.

We learned to domesticate animals. We invented wheels and put them on carriages, and let the horses guide us. And then came the Stanleys and the Fords and the other makers of the modern auto-fossil-fuel driven transportation system. Now we wear watches to remind us to walk, to get in our 10,000 steps each day.

At one point in time, all humans were illiterate. There was no writing and thus, nothing to read. There were oral histories that crossed all borders and all the generations and eventually, there was the written word. Tools and clay and ink and the printing press all slowly, across the millennium, led to writing. According to Maryanne Wolf, we (as a species) weren’t even meant to read, but our brains did what our brains do, and now we have newspapers and books, and magazines. Now, I can start my day with poetry, and shift to some sociological texts while working; after dinner, I can read a mystery and just before bed, read some self-help and secular mindfulness books. While in lines, in waiting rooms, and during meals, I can read all of the information stored on my smartphone. Now, I’m exposed to so much information, so much text, I can barely stand it all; now, I’m losing my grip on my focus and my attention.

On the drive to Colorado, we listened to an episode of the podcast, First Person, about a librarian in Louisiana. She works in a middle school and in 2021 was named the National School Librarian of the Year. She’s fighting back against dark money, against censorship, and standing in support of LGBTQ books, kids, and lives. She wrote letters, spoke at library board meetings, and is now pursuing civil charges (defamation). She’s had to use GoFundMe in order to support the lawsuits that she cannot afford. She does not identify as a member of the LGBTQ community, but she is now experiencing firsthand some of the vitriol that comes our way. And she hasn’t backed down. She cares that there are books on the library shelves that speak to kids’ lives. She says that despite burnout in her profession–mostly as a result of these clashes over “critical race theory” and LGBTQ-themed books–she says that “it’s important to stand up.”

On the drive home, we listened to Slow Burn (season 7), a podcast about the historical context that led to Roe vs. Wade. The path was littered with individuals who did things; the podcast told the story of how those things that people did lead to big historical moments: A letter one woman sent to a lawyer resulted in a case that built the groundwork for all of the ensuing legal decisions of the 60s and 70s, and that built a framework for reproductive justice. A childhood friendship, that played out in public by way of the Supreme Court, shaped the writing of the court opinion that became law in 1973 with Roe vs. Wade. A conversation between three people–a daughter and her parents–gave birth to the modern pro-life movement; a movement that grew and grew over the years, culminating in the abolition of Roe vs. Wade in 2022, in the erosion of reproductive rights for women.

So, what’s all of this about, you ask? Why is Dr. Edwards rambling on about walking and steam engines and librarians and Supreme Court justices?

Social change starts with individual people. This is the crux of C. Wright Mills’ argument–which he himself was building on the shoulders of Marx, Durkheim, of DuBois–that yes, history shapes biography, but so too does biography shape history.

My biography shapes history.

Your biography shapes history.

The accumulation of each and every person’s biography is history.

We are writing history right now.

We are history.

Social movements often seem so big. We think of the 1963 March on Washington, we think of protests like the Women’s Marches in 2017, we think of revolutions, and what we see are images of millions upon millions of people. Then we look in the mirror and all we see looking back is one single person.

We think: “what could one person (me!) possibly do about all these big huge problems we are facing right now?” We don’t see how we are part of the millions, of the collective, of history.

But, we always are, every second of every day, making history.

We think and say things like: “racism/sexism/classism has been around forever; it will be around forever. There’s nothing we can do.”

But history proves otherwise. One day humans couldn’t read but here I am writing and here you are reading. One day there was no agriculture, and then there was. One day we walked, and then all of a sudden we could ride horses, and later yet we could drive cars. One day our phones were attached to the wall and then they weren’t. Now they are forever in our pockets, our hands, changing our brains. One day there were no unions protecting workers, and then there were. One day women and people of color couldn’t vote, then they could (1920 and 1965, respectively). One day women could get safe, legal abortions everywhere, and now, again, we can’t.

All of these changes started with individual people.

One person thinking through a problem, talking to others, trying things out, developing ideas, pushing boundaries, talking to more people, and building things up until, BAM: everything changed.

Ideas are always around, floating through the air, through our neurotransmitters, waiting to be caught, explored, and pursued.

One day there was no birth control pill. And then, a determined woman met a rich woman and they paired up with a doctor who was willing to lose his medical license, and then the next thing you know we have the birth control pill. Three people started something that transformed women’s lives, daily life, modern life, everything.

Whatever you think can’t change, can, and will. The question is: what role will you play in the direction things take?

Every person is an activist, because every one of us, every day, shapes the future of our society through our thoughts, our actions, our choices, and our interactions. Sure, some people have famous names and make history books. But behind all those people are the people who make their lives possible. The people they talk to, the people who build the roads they drive on. You might invent something, you might help change a law, or, you might feed those people, or work in the human resources department, or the bank and thus play a role in facilitating their employment, and their paycheck.

Or, you might be the kind person that we all need, every day, filling our lives with compassion and allowing us to think, grow and create change.

Either way, everything you do matters. Every action we take today paves the way for the society humans will inhabit in the future.

Everything is possible. Now, let’s reach.