When Doing the Work Has You Down
The exhaustion of anti-DEI legislation & the inspiration that brings me back when I'm low.
I was going to write an essay about the 20 states that have introduced legislation to ban diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts in higher education, but I can't find my way in. I'm sitting here with so many tabs open, thinking about how much — to paraphrase Corky St. Clair1 — I just hate Ron DeSantis and I hate his ass face!! Which is…unproductive.
Florida has two bills working their way through the state legislature which would undermine DEI offices and programs at public universities, and prevent them from allocating money toward programs that “espouse diversity, equity, and inclusion or critical race theory rhetoric.” If passed, these laws would affect 588,025 students, 53% of them students of color, and 109,394 employees. And that's just in Florida.
These laws and the 32 others like it that have been introduced around the country are based on model legislation created with the help of anti-critical-race-theory activist Christopher Rufo. He announced proudly on Twitter: "We’ve developed a playbook for state legislators to abolish DEI bureaucracies and restore colorblind equality in public universities."
Restore colorblind equality.
I was going to write about how moves like these will stymie progress on making dietetics more diverse and inclusive, when progress was already so halting. Not surprisingly, there have been no signs of protest from the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics or ACEND, the accreditation body for dietetics education programs.
But today I just feel tired, treading these familiar paths, feeling the same anger, sadness, powerlessness. When I'm feeling this way, the best thing for it is getting up out of the trenches and looking around for inspiration. In lieu of the usual Wednesday essay, I'm offering some glimpses of what has been inspiring hope and connection for me, instead of anger and dread.
Five Changemakers Making Earth Day Every Day from Earth in Color
Earth in Color, "a digital home for Blackness and greenness," is always inspiring tbh.
“I think my existence, and that of many others, is a direct counter to the false narrative that somehow people of color are not environmentalists. People of color have been some of the most staunch environmental advocates and innovative stewards.”
Emily Meggett, Matriarch of Gullah Geechee Cuisine from the New York Times (gift link)
A celebration of the 90-year life of "a Southern home cook who never measured her ingredients or used recipes but became one of America’s most important Gullah Geechee cooks."
Everyone knew that if her kitchen door was open, anyone could stop by for food — including a couple of tourists who, after reading Mrs. Meggett’s cookbook, drove to Edisto from Texas last year. Mrs. Meggett served them shrimp and grits.
Growing a Garden Print from Black Lodge Press
Cultivating a little bit of life, green and wild, does feel radical. Gardens have often been sites of resistance, and they don't have to be big or even outdoors to bring a sense of power and peace. A tiny pot of herbs on the windowsill. A single tomato plant. Beautiful and radical.
Black Lodge Press is run by a queer, anarchist artist in the UK, and this poster is printed by a cooperative "based on radical politics and sustainable, ethical practice."
“Remedy for Social Exposure” by Sandra Cisneros
I have subscribed to the Knopf Poem-A-Day email for over a decade — they send you one poem every day in April, National Poetry Month. "Remedy for Social Exposure" was my favorite poem of the bunch this year, and I can’t get enough of this stanza:
Soak in a tub of seclusion.
Rinse face with wind.
In extreme cases, douse
oneself with sky. Then,
swab gently with clouds.
You can read the whole poem here.
If you are feeling inspired and ready to return to the work, the Chronicle of Higher Education has a useful DEI Legislation Tracker. I myself am not quite ready to leave my tub of seclusion today, but I’ll be out soon.
I am in awe of whoever looped that iconic moment from Waiting for Guffman into a TEN HOUR LONG video. Watching it is strangely cathartic, especially if you picture Ron DeSantis on the other end of the phone.