Positionality Statement:

This blog post expresses my perception of activism as a queer woman of color. I implore readers to keep a sense of humanity and activity with them throughout daily life, not just when convenient or absolutely necessary.

Using Education for Liberation

When I first embarked on my undergraduate journey I was eager to learn, but unsure what knowledge I would value the most. I knew there was so much about the world that was kept hidden from me, and I was more than willing to find it. As a queer Black woman, I have always been intimately aware of the injustices that intersect with my identity, however, it was college (not the institution itself but my peers within it) that pushed my mental boundaries and expanded my worldview to understand and acknowledge the blatant human rights violations and social justice disasters occurring worldwide. As individuals with access to higher education, we have been given a wealth of knowledge, and with that, a mountain of responsibility. It is up to us to advocate for and protect individuals who aren’t able to do so for themselves. They say college students are rarely on the wrong side of history, and I truly believe that is because of our ability to fully embody the humanity that seems to be lost within the organizations that surround us. Moreover, our ability to access individuals and their stories from across the globe instantaneously only heightens the moral obligation to act.

The Radical and The Routine

Activism is intrinsic, it is something you feel and enact constantly, whether it is obvious or not. Throughout my academic journey, it became increasingly clear that to be silent is to be complicit, there is a responsibility that is only growing as time goes on. A moral obligation to not just know and sympathize, but to act. Awareness is the first step we are equipped with through education. However, there is always a need for not just an activist perspective, but an activist lifestyle, ingraining these values so deeply that they become second nature. There is a question that I had to answer for myself: what does it mean to live as an activist?

There is so much more to activism in addition to the marches, protests, and sit-ins. While those are increasingly valuable and celebrated forms of resistance, activism can be quiet but just as strong. In my experience, there is a necessity for both forms of activism. It is necessary to be aware, to be angry and horrified with everything you see, because what we are witnessing, what we have been witnessing for so long, is not normal, and shouldn’t be treated as such. But with all the global catastrophes occurring in the world right now, there is simply not enough time in the day to attend every protest and sit-in. With that, I want to implore my fellow students to find value in daily forms of activism. Activism is in who you associate with, what you buy, who you support, what you learn, and how you speak, the power within that is unprecedented. When you look at activism as living your values in any way possible, it is clear that it is the most accessible activity in the world, truly anyone can do it.

A Call to Action

What I want everyone reading to take with them, is that we can never be passive participants in conversations about the future, we need to be active and fight for it. Since the creation of the internet, we have been able to witness and access injustice from our fingertips. There is responsibility within that, it is crucial that we keep our sense of humanity close to our hearts, and continue to fight for what is just. Throughout my time as an undergraduate student, my understanding of this responsibility has only intensified and I’m sure the same can be said for all of my fellow students. It is understandable and healthy to acknowledge the burnout that comes with being an activist, but understanding that activism can be adapted based on what you are able to give, makes it so much more accessible.

You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time

– Angela Davis

To quote myself from the start of my first semester here at UMBC, “I have somewhat of a unique position in that I often find myself standing in the middle of the line–I am biracial, bisexual, nonbinary, and have lived below the poverty line in an upper middle to high class area. I straddle many fences, and those experiences have made me sympathetic to both sides. It can be difficult to bridge the gap between marginalized and privileged groups.” I said these things in a reflection on my own activism, contemplating whether or not I could consider myself an activist. To be honest, sometimes I still don’t quite feel like I deserve that title, but I do my best.

Since then, I have learned quite a bit (which one would hope would be the case, considering how much tuition costs). As is the case with any knowledge, situations will arise where you are the only one in the room who is knowledgeable about the subject. Sometimes the conversation is trivial, and it doesn’t matter how much or how little you know about the subject. Sometimes the conversation is important, and your expertise is vital to understanding.

I have often been told that the way I speak, with assertive confidence, gives others the impression that I know what I’m talking about. While I do spend a lot of my free time learning new things, I am by no means an expert in anything but my own experiences. When I have to talk about something I haven’t experienced, I try to pull on what I’ve learned from others who have. But of course, trying to talk about something I haven’t experienced is much more difficult than talking about something I have. And this poses a problem when I’m the most knowledgeable person in the room on the subject.

Most recently, this situation arose while talking with a friend about MoistCr1TiKaL’s response to iDubbbz’s apology for his racist content. For those out of the loop, both MoistCr1TiKaL and iDubbbz are white YouTubers. MoistCr1TiKaL’s content largely focuses on commentary on internet culture and news, and iDubbbz is most well-known for his past comedic content. Unfortunately, a lot of that past comedic content was racist. iDubbbz recognized this, albeit years later, and apologized for the harm his content caused. MoistCr1TiKaL then responded, and subsequently doubled down, that iDubbbz’s apology was unnecessary. MoistCr1TiKaL’s own audience disagreed with him, and several other YouTube commentators put out videos running down the whole situation. D’Angelo Wallace’s and Kat Blaque’s videos discussing the topic provide comprehensive rundowns of the situations and a nuanced discussion about racism and accountability, for those interested.

While talking with this friend, they mentioned not finding the situation all that important. They said they found it almost laughable when people used slurs because, to them, it devalued the racist meaning of the word and made the user look like a fool. This came from their experiences of being both Black and Hispanic and experiencing racism that was much more difficult to deal with than a random creator on the internet. I pointed out that this kind of racism was harmful, too, and it normalized it and harmed others, even if it didn’t personally hurt my friend. But I felt out of my depth; I am white-passing, and my personal experiences with racism are complicated. The way I move through the world is completely different to how my friend moves through the world. In helping my friend understand why such content was harmful, I had to stare into the abyss of my (lack of) knowledge—and it stared back; I was wildly unequipped for this conversation, but if I didn’t have it, I wasn’t sure anyone else in my friend’s life would. So I sent them Kat Blaque’s video on the situation, trusting that her words would make more sense than mine, and that her experiences would resonate more with my friend.

But being the only advocate doesn’t always mean you’re the one who knows the most—sometimes it means you’re the only one willing to speak up. Some groups are so stigmatized that broaching the topic with the wrong crowd can cause conflict. Take, for example, furries. Last semester, I wrote a literature review that argued against the bias that academia holds against furries, and ended with a call to action. This was not, however, a popular topic; most people seemed startled or uncomfortable with the subject. Furry fandom was not something I was very familiar with at the time, but my paper was born from frustration at constant criticism of furries, and even genocidal jokes about them in group chats, largely fueled by misinformation and harmful stereotypes. My concerns about the popularity of using furries as a punching bag were overlooked, even by close friends.

Discussing taboo topics is not easy; you are liable to be given a label you don’t identify with, or even a derogatory one, when you defend a group people love to hate. The main question I received when writing the literature review was, “Are you a furry?” While the frustration of being asked that question did not stop me from continuing my research, the implications can stop others from publicly advocating for a group of people. Sometimes the barrier to being an advocate is simply not wanting to be the one who’s targeted. But the less people who speak up, the harder it is for others to. For some closeted queer people, advocating for queer rights can be dangerous, as it could draw unwanted attention that could pose a physical threat to their lives. The more often we advocate for the fair and equitable treatment of others, the harder it is to target individuals, and the easier it is for others to get involved.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easy. Even with as vocal as I am, I get nervous when I share my opinions. People can be unpredictable; even those you know best can manage to shock you. For courage, I follow the mantra they teach you in kindergarten: “treat others the way you want to be treated.” When I don’t have the courage to speak up, I hope that others will in my stead. How many times growing up did I witness something that I felt powerless to change, if only one other person had stood up for me? Making the world a better place sometimes means stepping up and being the person you needed when you were younger.

Activism looks different for everyone. For some, it is going out and marching or walking out in protest. Some choose to utilize social media to spread awareness and use the algorithm for greater good. For myself, I like to use the definition Dr. Kate Drabinski gave us in her GWST 200 course on activism: “living life in accordance with one’s values.” Whether you choose to be vocal or provide support from the sidelines, it is important that we show up for each other—especially when it may be difficult to do so.

Why is it that women are expected to take up as little space as possible? In elevators, we’re always in the corners making room for others. On crowded sidewalks, we’re the first to let others pass us. In our classrooms and offices, we observe without ever speaking up even when we’re qualified to do so. We speak only when spoken to, which is even more true for women of color. I often find myself sitting in the back of classrooms and not raising my hand unless absolutely necessary, especially in classes with white professors and majority white students. Many of them are conditioned to advocate for themselves, so they tend to be the most vocal. Because of this, I don’t feel like I can raise my hand in class, even when I want to. While it may not be because of social conditioning, it could be that people are just not cognizant of when to take up space or when not to.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with white students raising their voices, except for when it’s at the expense of students of color. Historically, people of color and especially women of color have been left out of academic spaces in the US. Further, our histories have been erased or “whitewashed” in academia, which is why it’s even more important to amplify the voices of students of color when it comes to discourse around our histories and the intersecting issues affecting our communities. A 2012 study from Smith College explored Black students’ silence in classrooms at predominantly white institutions, and found that teaching material that centered around European-American history and culture influenced the silence of Black students.

Implementing the “Step Up, Step Back” model can be effective in ensuring that students have a fair chance at participating in discussions. Stepping back calls us to provide space for others that are willing and able to step up, and not take away their opportunity to contribute. If you are in the position to step up, you should first be aware of whether there is anyone else who can or should be the one to step up in that situation, and encourage them to do so, or rather, give them the space to do it. The silence may be uncomfortable at first, but we must give ourselves and others time to process before we raise our hand. Stepping back allows us to listen to someone else’s perspective that we would miss if we only heard our own voice. It’s very important to take the time to learn other perspectives, especially at a diverse school like UMBC.

Professors also play a huge role in how comfortable students feel engaging in their classes. They can encourage student participation by diversifying their content and literature from different backgrounds. Most times, we read outdated texts and learn about theories from white people, when we could implement more scholarship from people of color. It’s important to learn about new narratives regarding marginalized communities, because it can be damaging when we only ever learn about the same stories over again. For example when we learn about Black history, the struggle narrative is perpetuated by more emphasis being placed on learning about slavery and the Jim Crow era, rather than stories about Black people thriving. When negative messaging about one group is taught while another group is glorified, students of color have a hard time connecting with the content.

UMBC is supposed to be a model for diversity and inclusivity, but it is lacking in its content. It isn’t until students of color feel seen and welcome in their classes, that the university can truly reflect the values that it stands for.

My name is Abby, I use she/her pronouns. I am writing this blog to share about my experience this semester participating in gender-based harm reduction and advocacy through the Women’s Center. 

I facilitated the We Believe You discussion group Fall 2023 – Spring 2024. This is for survivors to build community and support one another through their survivorship. Through my experience facilitating the group, I was able to learn more about what supporting survivors looks like. For example, some discussion topics we had focused on rebuilding the mind body connection, tuning in to feelings, and communicating and maintaining boundaries. I loved being able to be a part of this discussion group and, first hand, seeing the support that the survivor community can provide for each other. 

In addition to running the discussion group, I was able to put together programming for Intimate Partner Violence Awareness Month, in October, as well as, Sexual Assault Awareness Month, in April. 

The process behind putting these together started first with conceptualizing the needs of the population, UMBC students. I did this through assessments like surveys and informal measures, for example, taking note of conversations folks have in the center and questions that had come up. Then we planned events and reached out to students trying to let people know about what events we are hosting. Incentivising the events with food and extra credit (if professors allow it) always helped to bring people in. 

Some things that came up when putting together the events is that sometimes, people don’t show up. And that is ok. It is good to have materials put together for the next time they may come in handy. Also, that might help you to tune your topic or program to be something that is more enticing to the community. I learned that finding active community members who are also survivors should be a key informant in the process of programming. They can not only tailor the groups or programs to best fit the needs of the community, but also help to spread word about the events to other campus communities. 

Out of all of the events that the Women’s Center put together for gender based harm reductions, Take Back the Night was my favorite event to work on and participate in. Take Back the Night is a protest hosted in The Commons. The event seeks to bring an end to sexual, relational, and domestic violence. Organizations came to table at the event and inform the community and survivors about available resources. A survivor speak-out was held where students were welcome to speak at an open microphone about their experience, showcasing healing, vulnerability, and support. Then, with survivors leading, and the campus community following behind, we marched through campus yelling chants to bring attention to and protest sexual violences prevalence at UMBC. Bringing the event to a close people chatted, ate pizza, colored and participated in other forms of craftivism fostering a calming environment vital after the emotional march and speak-out.

When survivors shared their experiences publicly, it called attention to the issue of sexual violence in an intimate way. The speaker is out in the open, at a microphone, sharing personal details about their experience. There is no way to ignore the issue of sexual violence after hearing the speak out. I don’t know how others felt after this but I was enraged. I felt so frustrated that so many people have to deal with this trauma and the weight of these harms for the rest of their lives. 

The part of the event that I was most scared of was speaking publicly and participating in the march. Funny enough, these were the two things that brought me the most fulfillment. It was definitely an emotional event, however, the prevalence of sexual assault and its damaging impacts on survivors inspired me to continue to work to educate the community and advocate for changes to things like Title IX on this campus. 

My biggest take-away from everything was that people need to feel heard and supported especially when it comes to such a traumatic intimate experience like gender based harms. The amount of stories I heard from the survivors who spoke and had a trusted companion or authority figure turn them away in disbelief was astonishing. I was in despair hearing about this. It affirmed for me that being open with people about resources and healing spaces for survivors, as well as educating people about consent, is so important. 

While most people may not feel comfortable participating in activism. What you can do as an active community member is learn how to respond to folks who share their experiences with you and how you can support them. Just saying “I believe you,” “I want to support you in ways that I can,” “Can I tell you about some resources for survivors,” can make all the difference. While you might not be someone who inflicts harm on others, it is still your responsibility to respond to those who have in a healing way.

The last thing I wanted to use this space to talk about is the Green Dot (bystander intervention training) that UMBC has for students and staff. This program seeks to educate people about sexual assault as well as how to be a bystander and do your diligence as a community member not only at UMBC but also throughout your neighborhood and in your family and friend groups to help to stop acts of gender based harms. Through this training, I found my confidence and how I can make a difference in the community and be aware of instances where potential gender based harms could occur, are happening, or have happened. I can delegate to another individual, distract the situation to prevent it from happening, or directly intervene, reducing potentially harmful instances from happening. There will be times where you are a bystander and hear someone trash talking an individual or see something happening. If you think about the victim as a loved one and how much you would want someone to help them if they were in trouble, your decision to stay out of it might change. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope that through sharing my experience I can influence you to keep working towards ending gender based harms.