Like many, I remember very clearly the morning of Nov. 6, when I awoke to find the national election had been called and the future had changed. Before I had even opened my eyes, my phone was filled with messages from friends and family all over the country who were gripped with despair over the knowledge that many of their neighbors apparently saw them as expendable. I am not, by my nature, an optimistic person. But in that moment, as a leader in my community, I knew that I needed to say something. I recall having to dig very, very deep into my spirit to locate some shred of hope to comfort and rally those closest to me while still holding space for the legitimate grief people felt in their hearts.
Despair is an insidious thing. It comes to you in your darkest moments and keeps you immobilized. While in the moment, it may feel easy, perhaps even comforting, it also makes you docile, slow to react. This is why oppressors throughout history have relied on despair as a tool for compliance — a population gripped by despair, stuck in it, is not a population that can fight back.
When the news came that the University of Michigan would be capitulating to the national government’s demands about dismantling the diversity, equity and inclusion framework, I don’t think anyone was truly surprised. Those of us who saw the University stand idly by while its own students were being terrorized for simply expressing their conscience the past year — which is their God-given and constitutionally protected right to do — have never held hope that the University would protect us from a power larger than itself. Even taking into account the complex balance of interests, it has been clear that there are some at the University who were not just willing, but enthusiastic, to comply with the national government’s demands in advance.
Instead, what has actually surprised me is what a small minority those people are.
Along with despair, it is clear that creating an atmosphere of fear on this campus has been a top priority for those seeking to silence opposition. Despite this, at a time when it would be incredibly easy to do nothing, there are those in our midst who have stepped up and chosen to act with courage. Whether out in front of the crowds or behind closed doors, they have advocated for the values that have made our community worth protecting. While others lie about what we have been doing here, questioning our worth and denying our right to be who we are, these people have been doing what they can to try and keep our campus as intact as possible. I will not name these people for obvious reasons, but just know that those of you who have not given up on the world that we deserve, we see you and we appreciate you.
The ironic thing is that of these two groups of people, it is the anti-progress side whose fears about the world at large are coming to fruition. Despite these displays of power, everyone knows that the old world is ending. And good riddance. That world was governed by silencing uncomfortable but necessary truths. It was built by people who did not have the strength to love everyone in their lives as their whole selves because of the light it showed on their own inadequacies. It was — and is — a world governed by hate. By contrast, what the rest of us know is that our resistance is the deepest act of love. It is the way that we say to our community, our land, our relatives and our children: I love you enough to fight for you; I love you enough to demand what you deserve. While love is a weakened word in our society, this love is anything but that. It is brave. It is the kind of love that ends wars, that changes laws, that spans generations. And although it may not always feel like it, there is a lot of it to be had here on campus.
In the eyes of history, and in the eyes of our descendants looking back at us, these fights have already been won. On the scale of human history, injustice is not only immoral, it’s also unsustainable. The only question is how long it’s going to take before those in power know it too. If you are one of those who have been duped and who have stood on the wrong side of history for too long, just know: It’s okay. You can atone. Start today. Put down your ego. March with us. Fight with us. Build with us. Never look back.
But for those of you who are letting fear take hold, and who are trying to keep this campus and this country from becoming better than its past, let me offer a word of advice: Do yourself a favor and get out of the way. To believe in higher education at all is to believe in the value of tomorrow. To believe in the University is to know that tomorrow’s leaders are anything but cowards.
The future is coming. It has no patience for fence-sitters.
Jasmine Neosh is a long-time organizer, researcher and dual degree graduate student at the University of Michigan. They can be reached at jneosh@umich.edu.
The post This isn’t over: A love letter to the resistance appeared first on The Michigan Daily.
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