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Michigan Feminist Felt the Bern

Once upon a time, in 2003, I was fairly political.  By the age of 25, I felt as far “left” as almost anyone else I knew.  I read every Derrick Jensen book in print, moved to an artist-vegan housing cooperative in Ann Arbor with people of diverse sexualities and genders, and consumed every book and film on the local food movement I could get my hands on.  I worked for a summer at the People’s Food Co-op and practiced Bikram Yoga every single day.  My housemates and I were active in the local anti-war protests, pro-bicycling scene, and community gardening.  Soon after finishing my graduate degree in Japanese history and literature, I retreated to a nearby organic farm that had been family owned and operated since the early 1970s.  I was full of the ideals of making change and saving the earth.

My very independent-thinking father recognized my passion and beliefs and suggested one day that I become Secretary of State.  I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out in disgust, responding with something to the effect that to get that high up in the political system, I’d have to play the game of the system, and I would not only hate it, but anyone making it that far up in the rungs of politics would certainly not be able to retain these “radical” positions I held.

Seeing a career in activist politics as a recipe for stress, I variously taught yoga full-time, single-mothered while teaching part time, and completed another masters’ degree in 2010.  I felt like what I wanted for this country was never going to appear on a national scale, so consciousness-raising and education on a very small scale was the only path I knew how to take.  

I worked with some of the great academic feminists of Mid-Michigan at the Center for Gender in Global Context at Michigan State University.  We watched state politics on abortion and birth control, and - despite being surrounded by progressive people - felt mostly hopeless about the direction of the country.  I saw Bill McKibben speak in Kalamazoo and was temporarily fired up but didn’t really think that our corporate universities would divest from coal and oil.  I loved my progressive Michigan musicians from the Earthwork Collective but didn’t take any real action.  One bright moment of hope flashed in 2012, when Eve Ensler flew in for a protest performance of the Vagina Monologues on the steps of the Capitol Building in Lansing.  Despite the solidarity, stuff was ugly in our legislatures, and there didn’t seem to be much we could do.

For the past three years I got myself so busy opening and directing a yoga school, I almost completely checked out of the political scene.  Every few months I might catch a clip of Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert, and I’d read the occasional post from my still very progressive friends on Facebook.

Politically quiet as I was, I still felt as strongly as ever that our global economic policies were destroying not only the environment, but communities and families too.  I knew I wasl relatively comfortable in the domestic and international scheme of things.  That vast numbers of people with less privilege and resources were and are stuck in much more limiting situations.  Yet what could I do?  It’s not that I was apathetic.  Just paralyzed.  

Fast forward to late 2015.  A few of my friends Facebook post about Bernie Sanders.  Oh yeah, that one Senator who has somehow managed to remain an “I” instead of an “R” or a “D”.  I’ve heard his name here and there; I wonder what his story is.  After some time, I start opening the posts.  Oh, he’s running for president?  Oh, that’s nice.  Even though I have voted in every presidential election since 2000, I have never really been excited about any candidate.  Maybe a little bit of of a spark for Obama, but nothing that I could call passion.

In early 2016 I actually read a few posts about Bernie.  I take the Isidewith.com survey on the candidates’ positions - and I do the very, very long version, which takes me over an hour.  And I find out I side with Bernie.  97%.  I guess I should pay attention to this guy.  How could someone with that kind of agenda have a chance against the political momentum and money in this country?  But then I see my old housemates from Ann Arbor posting about Bernie.  I trust their intelligence, their critical thinking, their activist roots.  I see my international and academic friends posting about Bernie.  I see my less comfortable, working-middle class friends posting about him.  All of a sudden I find out he is coming to East Lansing less than one week before the Michigan primaries, and on a whim I take my son to wait for an hour in the freezing winter air to see the man speak.  And that pretty much seals the deal.

I also watch Hillary say nothing at all that inspires me, nothing that stirs the activist in me, nothing that makes me think she will help us save the earth or represent the truly needy and vulnerable of the world.  I think back to my dad’s suggestion that I become Secretary of State, and I see that Hillary has had to become an appendage of the political body that supports her.  I do not fault her, and I have complete respect for her accomplishments in a competitive, patriarchal society.  But I am not moved to action.

The Eve Ensler-inspired feminist in me gets excited about Bernie Sanders.  The Bill McKibben-inspired environmentalist in me gets excited.  The anti-corporate activist of course loves him beyond words.  The “free college” thing - well, sure. And single-payer health insurance is a no-brainer.  But it’s really the activist in me that has been re-awakened.  This activist - for the first time in her life - put a candidate’s sign on her front lawn and donated money to a campaign.  The activist in me texted all of my friends on Tuesday to see if they had voted.  The activist in me is still trying to educate potential friends in other states about Bernie’s record and policies.  

And the activist in me might, well, “forget” to go out of my way to vote in the general election for Hillary, because the fire will have been put out.  My friends who support Hillary seem to think that her presence there will represent a shift away from a patriarchal, power-over kind of world, but the feminist in me sees that Bernie will help bring more feminist ideals to the world.  If HIllary gets the nomination, it will demonstrate to many of us that the momentum of the system is stronger and more important than the needs of the people, and many of us will retreat again.  Would I drag my feet if I felt desperate enough about saving the country from a certain likely Republican nominee?  Sure.  But I certainly won’t be texting my friends about it.