Another year, another Creating Change. I've been to four of these things before, but I have to say - this year was moving in a way that I haven't felt since the first year I attended back in '02 in Portland. Portland was overwhelming in a different way. I was 18 and completely new to LGBT activism - just managing to comprehend the program book was a feat back then. I spent much of my time this year helping out in the Youth Hospitality Suite, and I've just been overwhelmed by how beautiful, dedicated, and enthusiastic the young people I interacted with this year have been. It sounds all very cliche I know, but really - the people who flock to Creating Change are my people. I feel it in my bones. They're the salt of the earth. They're the reason I do all the work that I do.
After a semester and a half of my PhD professionalization machine, it was so fucking amazing to be around so many passionate, caring, and welcoming LGBT people -- people who believe deeply in building community and welcoming their brothers and sisters. They ask you how you are doing, and how they can help you in the work that you do. They tell you how proud they are, and thank you for continuing to work tirelessly in fighting the good fight.
This all may sound a bit exaggerated - but if it is, it is only because my experiences working with activists are so qualitatively different than my experiences with academics. While good activists are committed to making their work accessible and reflective of the communities they are a part of, academics enjoy standing around jerking each other off with fancy 4-syllable words, making devastating critiques of things with no relevance to 99.9% of the world. Okay, so maybe I'm guilty of exaggerating a bit. Not all activists are as fantastic as I make them sound, just as not all academics are as pretentious as I've just described. But really, standing in the middle of the lobby of the Creating Change hotel, I felt an energy and a sense of belonging that I hadn't felt in years.
It shook me to my core. Now back in my apartment in Ann Arbor, I feel a deep sense of mourning for my activist roots. I drove back from the hotel Thursday night after a four-hour blissful shift volunteering in the Youth Suite with tears rolling down my face. One difficult and painful question pulsed through my veins: Was academia the right choice for me?
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy doing my work here at Michigan. And I believe it has direct activist implications. But I miss the on-the-ground work -- and, most of all, I miss working with people who have dedicated their lives to advancing social justice. Those are my people. They make my heart swell. Oy - and boys with radical politics make my knees weak (seriously, though - what would activism be without a few good make-out sessions?).
My heart aches. It's just the truth. I'm afraid that academia will turn me into a cold, uncaring journal-writing robot who puts advancing his career ahead of my community. My people.
Have I turned my back on them?
