Reflection: A Year Later

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the death of Rachel Corrie, the Olympian that was crushed by a bulldozer in Rafah while protecting homes of Palestinian families. There was a memorial march in Seattle--I wrote this speech that I've posted below for the event, but I didn't read it at the event because the procession was mostly silent.

Reflection: A Year Later

As a woman of Native descent, I have a special sympathy for the plights of the people of Palestine. The struggles for sovereignty, for rights to land, for a participatory voice in culture and for authority over our own lives and futures are the same struggles faced by not only Palestinians, but indigenous and marginalized people worldwide.

We are in crisis. True ecological balance has not been a part of my lifetime and human relationships reflect this lack of balance. It is related to the economic game, the global competition in which biological reason and basic human rights come in last place; it is related to the poisoned and dammed waters; it is related to the 'disappearing' forests. We are successfully collectively choking ourselves to death. Our struggles are related.

The destructive forces that originally civilized and colonized Europe are related to the forces that conquered--stole--the Americas; the destructive forces that enslaved and massacred the indigenous people of the Americas are related to the forces that stole and enslaved people from Africa. These forces continue globally in full force today and are related to the forces that fund and facilitate the repression of the Palestinians. Again, our struggles are related.

The true stories of the past are waiting for our embrace--not for our guilt or shame, but for honest acceptance, full disclosure and for shaping the future. Rachel Corrie's life work reflects a clear understanding of human history, the importance of these interrelated facts and social justice. She recognized and used her privilege and power as an American woman to alter the patterns of injustice and imbalance. She saw her own life and freedom as related to the lives of Palestinians and her work in Rafah was based on honest and stable humanitarian principles. She refused to be complacent and refused to accept unsustainable progress as something inevitable.

In the last year, I have spent several mornings crying for the death of Rachel; in the past year, I have also seen her face in the faces of young girls I pass on the street, literally seeing her legacy in the next generation. I did not know Rachel personally, but I know the spirit that acts as a 'human shield' and I was overwhelmed by the similarities between our lives. I have known many people that place their lives on the line between liberation and repression, crossing that line and risking everything. Humans between tree and chainsaw are related to the humans between home and bulldozer.

Rachel's life and death have catalyzed much dialogue and discussion, but most importantly, her activism has helped to normalize an empathy for all life. The fact that she cared enough to be present in Palestine shines light upon why solidarity is so important: she possessed an understanding of shared human destiny. Rachel's death sent me inward, evaluating my own intentions and effectiveness in activism. I channelled that energy, shaping it, enrolling in the school that Rachel attended, tracing my own histories, ancestry and future; I have learned that effectiveness comes from stability.

Violence is all around us, from war to pollution to 'development' of the last of nature to the pavement itself that stifles the life in the soil beneath. Yet I am committed to use my pen, my brush and my voice as my weaponry, because while physical battles shock and awe us, there are just as many psychological battles, emotional devastations and spiritual and sensual repressions that rage below the surface. Let' s not be afraid to speak our own realities and truths, envisioning and activating freedom, because the future is in our hands and we will only be what we create.