My email this morning included a link to a survey from Families Belong Together, a campaign to reunite immigrant and refugee families, about what sort of activism I would be interested in. The questions included things like whether I'm new to activism; what prompted me to start; my family's story of coming to the United States; which things I've done from a long list, including attending a rally, calling politicians, and voting; and what I'd be available to do. They said the "family story" would be confidential, so I didn't worry too much about phrasing. I did tell them that my mother came here at age 10 without her parents. Under skills I noted that I can turn up for the 2:00 Tuesday rally on a day's notice.
They also asked what keeps me going in activism, and I said it's partly stubbornness--knowing that the right wing wants us to despair--and partly that hope can be an action even if it's not an emotion. I may not be able to believe in spring, right now, but I can make those phone calls, and plant those berries, because if the world ends or I die of COVID, it won't do me, or anyone, any good for me not to have done them.
The NIH emailed yesterday to say they don't need me for their coronavirus study, having recruited enough other people. I'm vaguely annoyed that the subject line was "COVID-19 study acceptance" when the actual message is that I'm not accepted.
I did a little get-out-the-vote phone banking on Wednesday: after about 35 minutes of Zoom training, we spent about the same amount of time calling Arizonans to encourage them to vote by mail, and tell them how to request those ballots. I think, and hope, that I can make more calls through this website without doing another Zoom meeting: I might not have an hour and a quarter of calls in me, but I'd rather make 35 or 45 minutes of calls--or ten--without spending half an hour on Zoom first.
I took a walk this afternoon, without my glasses because it was overcast. The glasses don't interact well with the COVID masks, and I don't need them to enjoy morning glories or walk safely. If anything, and weirdly, I can navigate better without them, unless I need them as sunglasses. That's the interaction of the cataract surgery and COVID; without a mask, I'll take the glasses, in case I want to read something smaller than a street sign, or if the sun comes out.
They also asked what keeps me going in activism, and I said it's partly stubbornness--knowing that the right wing wants us to despair--and partly that hope can be an action even if it's not an emotion. I may not be able to believe in spring, right now, but I can make those phone calls, and plant those berries, because if the world ends or I die of COVID, it won't do me, or anyone, any good for me not to have done them.
The NIH emailed yesterday to say they don't need me for their coronavirus study, having recruited enough other people. I'm vaguely annoyed that the subject line was "COVID-19 study acceptance" when the actual message is that I'm not accepted.
I did a little get-out-the-vote phone banking on Wednesday: after about 35 minutes of Zoom training, we spent about the same amount of time calling Arizonans to encourage them to vote by mail, and tell them how to request those ballots. I think, and hope, that I can make more calls through this website without doing another Zoom meeting: I might not have an hour and a quarter of calls in me, but I'd rather make 35 or 45 minutes of calls--or ten--without spending half an hour on Zoom first.
I took a walk this afternoon, without my glasses because it was overcast. The glasses don't interact well with the COVID masks, and I don't need them to enjoy morning glories or walk safely. If anything, and weirdly, I can navigate better without them, unless I need them as sunglasses. That's the interaction of the cataract surgery and COVID; without a mask, I'll take the glasses, in case I want to read something smaller than a street sign, or if the sun comes out.