activism and social justice ...

social justice has always been a part of my life ... a part of me. 

it started when i was 9 and i was boycotting products from south africa in protest of apartheid. i was 9, and writing letters to the government asking for tighter restrictions on factories that were polluting the environment. 

at 10, i was writing letters to Nelson Mandela while he was in prison. i was so angry at his imprisonment. 

at 12,  i wore a red armband to show my support of the first nations protest at oka. i wrote letters to the federal and provincial government demanding an end to the standoff. 

by 17 i was speaking at 'take back the night' rallies in toronto, participating in a young feminist activist group, and continuing to write letters to government, to organizations, and individuals. 

by 20, i had started a sit-in that lasted 6 days and 6 nights. i was marching in protest of all sorts of injustices. and still writing letters. 

by 24 i had completed a masters degree in women's studies, and by 26 i had completed my teaching degree and was planning to be an out lesbian teacher ...

... then i got into a school and discovered that activism can come in many forms. and the idea of being an out lesbian teacher was scary. and felt unsafe. and as much as i was angry with myself for taking a step back into the closet, and as much as i toy with the idea of coming out to my students ... there are many other ways to be an activist. 

merriam webster dictionary defines an activist as "a person who uses or supports strong actions (such as public protests) to help make changes in politics or society." notice the word SUPPORTS. an activist doesn't have to be the one doing the marching. an activist can be a person who supports actions that help make changes. 

... i teach my students social justice topics. we study historical atrocities and current ones as well. we talk about human rights. i teach them to be accepting of differences. and although i am no longer marching in protests, speaking at rallies, or participating in sit-ins ... my activism is to teach my students to be global citizens who are passionate about social justice. 

being an activist doesn't have to mean being loud. it doesn't have to mean being out there and marching. it can be through small things like teaching a group of children to be kind, to care about social justice, and to want to change the world. 

as always, 

be kind to yourself (and everyone else)

xoxo

...

an open letter to libby oughton

dear libby, 

you probably don't remember me. 

i wouldn't have had the same impact on your life as you had on mine. 

my name is april and i interviewed you through email about 15 years ago for a paper that i was writing for a feminist literature class in university. we stayed in touch a bit after that. and then when i was in grad school, you were in town and we met for coffee at the second cup. 

it was both the most exciting day of my life, as well as the most humiliating. 

the kinder you were to me, the more miserable and negative back to you i was. 

and i have wanted, for the last 13 years, to apologize and to explain. but i never really knew how. 

i was severely depressed when i was living in halifax. i was lonely, and sad, and homesick. i couldn't seem to break my way into any community. i had no sense of belonging. 

i was lost. 

i spent my nights reading in bed and slept as much of the day as possible. reading would transport me into another world where i could escape the reality of my predicament. 

i had been accepted into a master's program in women's studies. i applied with the clearly laid out proposal that my research was in feminist lesbian geography. and i was accepted into the program based on that research. only i moved myself across the country and upon arrival on the very first day of classes i was told that there was no professor that had accepted me into their program who did any type of feminist geography nor lesbian geography, nor lesbian studies. 

which meant i had no adviser, no mentor, and no one to guide me in my research. add to that, a really mean roommate who treated me very badly, the fact that i was really sick, and had no friends .... it made for a lousy year and really lousy timing in meeting you. 

it is no excuse for how negative i was when we met. and yet it is an explanation for the terrible space that i was in. 

and as i navigate my way through the regrets of things that i did, or things that i didn't do, you and that meeting in the second cup are at the top of my list. 

your book made it's way to me because the universe wanted me to have it. it found me at a time in my life when i was discovering who i was (i am still discovering that) and the words spoke to me. the words were alive on the page. i carried that book with me ... ALL THE TIME AND EVERYWHERE. i wrote my own poetry all over the pages. the pages are worn and soft now. and i still read it. your words, meshed with mine. this morning, i sat and read your poetry. and once again i was filled with the joy of words. 

and the universe gave me the opportunity to meet you. to connect with you. to form a friendship forged in our mutual love of words, of feminism, of activism. and i was a sad little brat who spent the entire time complaining instead of learning from you. 

and i regret it every day. 

i hope that you can forgive my youth. i hope you can forgive that wasted opportunity. 

and i hope that this letter finds its way to you and finds you well. and that you will receive this letter with my love and affection. 

if it is meant to be, the universe will get this letter to you. 

with deepest regards, 

xoxo

...