When The Mercury Moves Like A Yo-yo
Welp, we got our hot dry weather for a few days, didn't we?! Sometimes farming is making decisions and executing plans in a calm and orderly fashion, and sometimes you just kinda ... run from one increasingly urgent situation to the next and hope to catch your breath by the end of the week. Scrambling to move plants ready for a field out of a too-warm propagation station, but timed unfortunately on our field crew's off days AND across the triple digit temperature spike - so instead of rushing to put the plants directly into the ground to certainly fry, we pulled them into emergency shade cover. Was that the right choice? Sure hope so!
The weather didn't really give me a chance to reflect on the highs or the lows of the past week either. The elated high of last week was watching Michelle receive the Indigenous Leadership Award and give a powerful speech about the failure of the US government to eradicate not only her people, but her language and food stories and the ways we fight for Indigenous Food Sovereignty at our farm. Existence as resistance, in action. As far as I know Michelle is the youngest person to receive this honor, and we are beyond proud and feel it is much deserved recognition for her hard work and dedication to our community, our planet, and building better food systems. Learn more about the award and other amazing awardees here.
Simultaneously, as Michelle was preparing for a major public speaking moment filled with extended family and other chaos, our crew was delivering the first of Summer orders on an ever chaotic first-day-of-season and I couldn't be more proud of them as well. It was a litmus test of everything we've been working towards since I joined the farm - forming a team that can hold it down on the field and on the front lines of delivery so that Michelle can be where she needs to be, to do what only she can - tell her story and share her vision! Sniff, happy cry, sniff. It’s really powerful to be a part of a crew that is inclusive and works cooperatively to solve problems, sometimes really big problems, together.
Oh but the sad tears were coming, and continue as we process the overturning of Roe v Wade and the litany of other humane and protective laws that hang in the balance of our Injustice System presently. So many people will suffer and die unnecessarily, and this like all issues is an intersectional one: Black, Brown, Indigenous, Queer, Disabled and so many other marginalized bodies will feel the effects of these consequences sooner, harder, and more often.
Am I shocked? No. The American Government was built on state sanctioned slavery, committed genocide and forced sterilization, forced experimentation, and rips kids away from their families with regularity. I am not shocked by the level of callousness. This is the same country that can’t house, feed, or provide health care for its citizens, but affords never ending wars. The same country whose governance is political and ineffective by design, at least toward the constituents’ needs. Especially if those constituents aren’t white, straight, cis, neurotypical, able bodied etc….
I believe family planning and abortion is healthcare, and all healthcare of other people is none of my business - it belongs wholly to that individual. I believe every person should have full unrestricted access to the best medical care in every corner of every state of this country and beyond. In my fantasy version, that health care would be free of charge, but nevermind me.
30 years ago, nearly to the day I was marching with my mom in a Pro-choice rally. I remember that day, it was hot and there were people everywhere and there was anger and shouting which normally would have scared me, but I remember feeling really safe there. I was 9 years old. I was so proud to be there, and I felt so hopeful and certain that when I was my mom’s age, that the world wouldn’t ask us to march for things like the right to bodily autonomy. I was proud that I was my mom’s choice, an accident sure, but a happy one that she chose to see through. What do I say to that little kid, who I have to look at in the mirror still? I want to tell my inner child that it will be ok, but now is not the time for false promises. Is it safe to have a uterus here? Is it safe to be queer? Are my trans friends safe? What about my Native, Black and Immigrant friends? My disabled loved ones? Are they safe?
And then I think of the farm and it’s like snapping back from outer space.
What can I do right now? Today? Because I best not lose focus on my work when it includes community care and mutual aid and food security for so many. I’m not running from my feelings, but compartmentalizing and regrouping, thinking of others. I imagine this is my ancestors reaching through time and space and slapping sense into me, after a period of mourning has left me receptive to the message. Abortions have always been, and will continue. Certain hills made warriors out of our elders so that we could thrive and I may die on a similar hill. And I won’t be alone.
Such a full week, and such a lot of work yet to do.
Below are resources that can help folks on the ground in other states who could really use support right now.
National Abortion Fund - network of abortion funds, nationwide
Midwest Abortion Fund - helping fundraise in states with the most restrictive abortion laws
https://midwestaccesscoalition.org/
Northwest Abortion Fund - fund local sanctuary state funds that cover travel, support services, and housing for medical refugees from other states
Take good care of yourselves, your loved ones, and your neighbors. Your resilient relationships are the most powerful asset you’ve got in this world, don’t let them tell you otherwise.
Written by : Domenika Radonich
