CIIS Public Programs Podcast

TRANSCRIPT

[Cheerful theme music begins]

This is the CIIS Public Programs Podcast, featuring talks and conversations recorded live by California Institute of Integral Studies, a non-profit university located in San Francisco on unceded Ramaytush Ohlone Land. 

In the #1 New York Times bestseller So You Want To Talk About Race, writer Ijeoma Oluo offered a vital guide for how to talk about important issues of race and racism in society. In Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America, she discussed the ways in which white male supremacy has had an impact on our systems, our culture, and our lives throughout American history. 

But now that we better understand these systems of oppression, what can we do about them? In her latest book, Be A Revolution: How Everyday People are Fighting Oppression and Changing the World—and How You Can, Too, Ijeoma aims to show how people across America are working to create real positive change within our structures.

In this episode, Ijeoma is joined by Preston Vargas, the Director of the CIIS Center for Black & Indigenous Praxis, for an inspiring conversation encouraging all of us to engage with our communities and examine how we can start creating positive systemic change. 

This episode was recorded during a live online event on March 20th, 2024. You can also watch it on the CIIS Public Programs YouTube channel. A transcript is available at ciispod.com. To find out more about CIIS and public programs like this one, visit our website ciis.edu and connect with us on social media @ciispubprograms.

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Preston Vargas: Good evening, Ijeoma.

Ijeoma Oluo: Hello, how are you? 

Preston Vargas: I'm well, I'm well. I do want to start by honoring you as a literary elder and your body of work and also to any of the elders that are viewing this. I would say aburu, aboye, aboshishay, just honoring you and asking for the blessings of the elders. As I come here in a good way with my Afro-Indigenous ancestors, how does it feel to pop into some conversation?

Ijeoma Oluo: Oh, it feels lovely. I'm excited. 

Preston Vargas: Right on. I wanted to start actually with the importance of being politicized. Prior to working in academia, I worked for community-based organizations for about 20 years. So like 2004 to 2023, serving folks who are in need of mental wellness support, folks who use drugs, people living with HIV, LGBTQIA folks, unhoused folks, basically my communities. And all of these organizations received government funding. And as conditions of this funding, these organizations were barred from being publicly political. They couldn't take a stance on candidates or political parties, wars, genocide. Otherwise they'd lose their funding. And academic institutions are bound under these same conditions. And whether it's government funding or high profile donors or boards of governance, they will withdraw resources from institutions if they are politicized. And these resources and sometimes are life-saving, especially in terms of folks in community who need it. And for BIPOC learners who rely on federal financial aid, they could be denied access to an institution if it's cut off for being too political. So the ethos of people working in these institutions and organizations seems to be of liberation and revolution. But the action of these institutions appears to be shackled, shackled to the agendas of whoever holds the resources. And as a black person, as a queer person, it's hard for me to trust in institutions that aren't politicized, especially when my life depends on it, literally walking out the door every day. Yet almost every occupation I've had doing the work I love, there's this complexity of institutional survival being tied to being apolitical. And most people don't know this. So I'm curious if you could maybe start us off with how these systems are set up and what are some ways we can empower folks to be politicized in academia, understanding that exclusion from access to education could be a possible result. 

Ijeoma Oluo: Yeah, that was a word. It's so interesting to me because I think that we see this all of the time. And I think that we're seeing this, especially right now with regards to Palestine. We are seeing often organizations feeling like they can't say anything. And being punished if they should choose to. And it's always been interesting to me because there really is no such thing as political neutrality. When we're talking about social issues, I mean, there's very few things in life that are politically neutral. And especially when we're considering entities that are funded by political entities themselves, whether they're funded or not, whether they're deemed of value, all of that's a political calculation that is made over and over again. And so the hypocrisy of really determining the life or death of many organizations based upon what some politicians or what is politically feasible and then saying that those organizations themselves are not allowed to be political has always been wild to me. When I know people who are trying to do work in community, whether or not a Black queer org gets funding from its city, its state, any grants, there's so many politics that go into whether that money even exists. And then to say you cannot be political, even though politics, we're so having into this. But the truth is that we're all political beings. And even the idea that you could be apolitical about these things is in itself a judgment all of the time. I mean, we see this because there are always exceptions that are allowed to be made. Everyone was allowed to be political about anything that's kind of agreed upon. It has to reach this level of white comfort. It can't be threatening to hyper capitalism. And then it's allowed to exist in this space. Everyone was allowed to be political about Ukraine. That was fine. The funds were being threatened and being cut for having an opinion upon that. And yet time and time again, I find that orgs working in the most marginalized communities, people trying to get funding for work in those marginalized communities are being told that even addressing the issues that create the need for them to do this work in the first place is overly political. And so I think first and foremost, it's really, really important if you're in these spaces to know that because the language is always the opposite if you're not brushing up against it. You know, I know so many people who are like, I've joined this big nonprofit, I've come into this space. It is, it has all the right politics, right? Because you can have politics without being political in a lot of these spaces. And we're going to change the world and you're just not. And I think it's really vital to know that because it doesn't actually mean there's no value in these spaces, but there's real harm done when we act like spaces are doing work that they're not doing. And so recognizing that you're still in an institution, that you're still a part of a system regardless of, you know, what signs that your educators might be hanging up on their walls, regardless of, you know, like what it feels like to be in that space, you're still a part of this system and the system is always going to protect itself. And so what I try to get people to do is recognize whatever power they have in that space, push where you can, of course, push to get space where you can, build alliances and protection where you can. But also recognize that one of the most important things you can be doing in that space is just trying to create a buffer around people who can operate outside of systems. And then I always tell people this because I'm constantly kind of sitting with people who are in spaces like this, especially Black and Indigenous, queer, trans and disabled people who are in these spaces who feel like they have to be because at the end of the day, if you're trying to get work done, you're going to want to be where the money is, you know, where the resources are, and often they're going to be in larger institutions and they're feeling like they have to be in this space and it's beating them down. And I always try to tell people you're not going to change an organization. You can change people within it. And that change will last in the space as long as it is convenient to the space, but it will last in the people forever. And that is something that we have to understand. And you know, we have to really start being honest about what spaces can do for us because if we put all of our resources into spaces that we have seen time and time again, aren't able to do the work that we need in our communities, that's where we end up in these problems. And I have met with so many people who have lost entire organizations, not because they were too political and their funding got canceled, but because that was where most of their funding came from. Right. And so, you know, understanding that, that there's always going to be that price to pay is really, really important.

Preston Vargas: You mentioned a bit about the even your, you will not change necessarily change organization, but you can change people. And you talked a little bit just now about the work being valued. And so I'm coming in with this question about how do we measure success in a way that's healthy? Because if I'm thinking about the carceral system could work for years in the carceral system, trying to get people free, trying to get people out and it may, you may not be able to, but it does not mean the works not value. So where is this measurement of success coming from and what is the healthier measurement actually look like?

Ijeoma Oluo: That is a great question. And I'd say it's one of the most important questions. If you're going to be doing any sort of movement work or just work even in community and advocating with community, because there are so many ways in which the work will never be done. And it will often feel like two steps forward, five steps back, you know, and that's part of the nature of the work because that's what systems do. And it's really important that we have multiple definitions of success. And so we always have our goals, our long-term goals. And if we are doing systemic work and I'm a systemic worker, a lot of these goals are things I won't see in my lifetime. And I know that, you know. But I also have to know what success looks like for me today. And so I think it's really important that we understand that when we're talking about systemic oppression, we're not just talking about these systems existing. We're also talking about the ways in which every day these systems seek to devalue populations and really say, you know, that they don't deserve to live. And that story is really, really important for these systems survival. And so I find my definition of success I can access right now is the definition that tackles that, right? So yeah, that system may exist and I'm chipping away at it and we're trying our best to build something better. And we're constantly challenging these really big things that really are fighting us with everything they have. But also right now, every day, I have countless opportunities to really prove the idea that the populations that I am in, the populations I work with don't deserve joy now, don't deserve to thrive, don't deserve care. And we have to recognize that, you know, the phrase Black Lives Matter isn't just black survival matters, right? It's how we live, right? And if we ignore that, we're really denying that truth. And so it's really, really important that we recognize that. It's so easy to get caught up in what we're fighting against and forget what we're fighting for, to forget that at the end of the day, if we were able to defeat every harmful system, our measurement of success isn't actually going to be the way that these systems don't exist anymore because they just won't exist. It will be how we live. And that is something we have access to, at least to some degree right now. And it's actually something we have to invest in right now. So every time I was talking with seasoned movement workers, especially for my book, where they would get really bogged down, where they would feel like they couldn't do this anymore is when other people were allowed to define for them, especially people from outside of their groups, what success was. And they weren't allowed to find it in the experiences, in the faces of the community they were working with. And that is something that we really have to stay connected to and keep our focus on.

Preston Vargas: I think a lot about what success looks like from the point of view of the person who's undergoing the experience or the journey. And for myself, I definitely have had to shift into the fight all the time, into what I call the feed. I was very addicted to the fight and the action. And in some ways, the drama triangle of it, in some ways, the adrenaline rush. And it really has taken me a while to learn how to feed the world that I'm trying to grow with the people that I'm trying to grow it. While still pushing back and pushing against these systems, but at the same time, not empowering them by placing all of my energy and focus on them, but rather into what I want to see manifest. When I'm thinking about San Francisco and CIIS, we're located right on Mission Street. And San Francisco and downtown, there are multiple worlds and they have stark differences. I see the power and the privilege and the financial wealth that flows through the city. It's astronomical. That the social dynamics of privilege and power and lack of privilege and power and wealth have created outrageous conditions. When I was working with folks who were using drugs, it was in the city, an average of three people, three people every day dying from overdoses, which is preventable, especially when I'm thinking now about safe consumption sites and how that has been proven to work. There are food deserts still in San Francisco and a housing crisis. I walked down the street, I walked on Market or Mission, I see empty luxury condos everywhere, yet there's a housing crisis of folks who are unhoused. And the city's response has been increased policing, street sweeps, sweeping everything that unhoused people have, all their belongings, their medication, everything they have with them, relocating them. And SF has been built on genocidal projects by the missions against Native Americans, land theft, then now progressing to low wage labor, environmental racism. And the city is almost consuming itself. I have seen a drastic change in the past 15 years, and I'm sure folks who have been here longer can. And there is still a beauty to this land I can't deny. But I keep asking myself, what could revolution look like in San Francisco today?

Ijeoma Oluo: Yeah, and that's a great question. And I think it's something that people grapple with all the time and here in Seattle, it's so similar. I mean, the sweeps here through homeless encampments are horrific. For a few years, they were using prison labor to actually do this. So there were often people really sweeping their own areas. The hostility to poverty, the real erasure of poor people, the idea that the city they're wanting to build doesn't include poor people, disabled people, BIPOCs. And that we can be replaced so easily is horrific. And it all feeds into this idea that it will then be this utopia for people who aren't us and people can still vote a particular way and recycle enough to keep their liberal cred while causing real extreme harm to marginalized and vulnerable populations. And it is, we've witnessed here, I've lived in Seattle my whole life and watching our whole populations disappear, watching the whole black arts community really disappear. Most of my peers gone, you know it has been really, really brutal. And I would say, that is where we have to recognize first, for me, revolution is, I think, when we decide that we're going to operate outside of the established systems. I think that's fundamental to revolutionary work. And so part of it is looking at when we're solving this issue. And every day, there are people who are doing projects like trying to reclaim houses, trying to create new ways of living together, new ways of employing people, new ways of coworking and co-op-ing together and mutual aid programs. It's when we decide we're going to do this work outside of the systems. I really do not think that there's going to be a thing that you're going to bring to ballot in our current political system that's going to be revolutionary. And I would say it's really important to recognize that that revolution is happening every day because places like San Francisco and like Seattle are extraordinarily hostile to poor people, to populations of color, to disabled populations. And every day that they continue to exist in these spaces, it is because of revolutionary work that honestly just needs a lot of support. And so I think that when we are doing this work outside of systems and we are aware that we are doing it, because I do think that awareness is an important part of it. I think it's inherent to a lot of our communities to work outside of systems simply because we don't have access. But that political awareness of why we're doing it and then making choices that try to undo harm and create radical alternatives, I think are really, really vital. And so what I try to get people to do is first and foremost, look at what's already happening in your neighborhoods, right? Look at what is working to get housing to people who are being left out of housing. Look what is working to treat people who are struggling with addiction with compassion and care and as members of your community and moving away from carceral ways to try to silence people and really kind of evict them from community. Look at that and look how you can invest it and look at it with an eye that is politicized, with an eye that is looking at this as a way to invest in alternatives to harmful systems. We can do this and we can do this on multiple levels. And it's really important that we do. So much of the focus right now is national, right? So much of it is who's going to be in the White House and how is this going to impact us? And the truth is no matter who's in the White House, what's going to impact our day to day life is really what we're doing right now on the ground in our neighborhoods. And so I try to tell people to treat really every entity they interact with as the system that it is, and then look at each one of those systems as an opportunity to create revolutionary change. And so pick one that works with your skillset, pick one that works with your access or your privilege and then start looking around to see what people are already doing. I always recommend that first. See how you can support it and learn from it and ask where your skills can really be put to use.

Preston Vargas: When I'm thinking and feeling really into working outside of the system, especially for Black folks and Indigenous folks, people of color, people of culture and undoing harm, I can feel the drive and the passion that many folks have as activists, as revolutionaries. And I also noticed that this sometimes comes with an attack on other folks that BIPOC folks feel aren't doing enough. And I've done this myself in the past. And I think for me, it's been a bit of age and experience and burnout and leadership that has shifted my perception. I take the ferry back and forth to work. I live in Vallejo. I'm one of those folks with fantastic privilege, education and a great job. And still San Francisco is unaffordable for me. And so I commute in and out. And there's this amazing group of young folks who oftentimes are at the ferry building and they've got their megaphone and they're really trying to engage folks around defunding the police. And the way that it often pans out is they will often end up with an argument, yelling and screaming at folks who are walking by that aren't signing the petition. Sometimes it devolves into almost violence. And that's an extreme example. Yet I've also seen more subtle examples over my last two decades of being in the workplace. Being a Black queer man in leadership, I'm often on the end of these attacks. I avoided leadership positions for years, for most of my career, because I saw what happened to Black leaders. If they did not act in the same way as white leaders that were mistreating BIPOC folks, then I felt that they were brought into leadership to be the mammy and clean up the messes that the white leadership had created or to be the overseer and get all the other brown folks in line or to be the Black show pony and to be trotted out in tokenism. And the perceived power of Black leadership never measured up with the actual power of leadership to make change. Yet I was still called to leadership. And from this position, I have a different experience of how BIPOC folks sometimes replicate harm when they feel that somebody else, especially another BIPOC person, isn't doing enough. And I feel their passion. I feel their justified anger. Yet I'm not getting sometimes, where is the disconnect between the value and then the action? 

Ijeoma Oluo: Mm-hmm. That's a great question. And I think we see different levels of this all of the time. And part of it, I think, always stems to access, right? You're going to yell at people that you feel like might hear you. If you're yelling at the white guy who's never said or done anything, you already know he's not going to hear you. You didn't even get your hopes up. So what are you going to do? He's doing what he's always going to do. So sometimes it's this level of disappointment, this idea, this expectation that having someone who looks like you, someone who came from where you came from, might be able to do things in a radically different way. And when they don't, that can really feel like a letdown. And you still feel like you have access to them. You feel like for once you can actually voice that frustration on them. And of course it's incredibly unfair, right? But it's all unfair from beginning to end. And also part of it, I think, is we tell people when they move into these spaces, into these positions that they can make change they can never make. How many times have we seen a black person promoted into these higher echelons in a time of crisis and being told, you're going to change things for us. And no one ever intended that to happen, but they sure are selling it. And they're selling it to the person moving into the space. They're selling it to the people that that person is supposed to be representing. And it was never going to happen from the beginning. And that letdown is crushing. It feels like a lie across the board, right? And then also, I think, you know, we have always talked about movement work as this one particular way, right? It is people yelling. It is people handing out flyers and being willing to lay their lives down or, you know, marching in the streets. And that's the real work. And everything else is a softer version. Everything else isn't really it. And that is something that I have found that many people, not all, grow out of. You know, they realize like, oh, wait, there is actually more to this. And maybe the fact that I was able to go in the streets pretty safely, someone was making sure that happened. You know, maybe like knowing that people knew when to meet me there and had it all straight and organized, someone, you know, made that happen. Or maybe the person who took our demands and typed them up and wrote out a step, you know, step-by-step program to try to get those achieved. Like there is so much work that goes into this, but we don't talk about it. And even when we talk about, you know, like the Montgomery bus boycott, we talk about, you know, the people that were out in the streets. We don't talk about the people, you know, who made sandwiches every single day and made sure they were out there. About the people who carpooled to make sure that people could get to work, you know, so that they could continue to support their families while, you know, respecting the boycott, right? These are things that even when we talk about our, you know, hallowed tales, we don't talk about all of the work that really goes into movement work. And you know, someone has to know how computers work. Someone has to be able to know logistics. You know, someone's going to have to make sure that, you know, people are safe. Someone's going to have to make sure people have water. Someone's going to have to make sure that representatives even know that you're going to be at the place you're going to be at. You know, people have to know all of these different things. And then when it comes to implementing it, you're going to have to have people in all of these different spaces trying to help implement what's done. And we don't talk about it and we don't teach it. And the reason why it doesn't get talked about or taught is because our government had, you know, made a real point to incarcerate and murder most of our movement leaders, you know, in the 70s and in the late 60s. And we have a big generational gap around that. So I actually, you know, don't blame our young people. I think they're learning as they go. And you know, it's definitely something they're picking up on a lot faster than I think a lot of other people did. And that's really where I think even when we're looking across generation and across levels of privilege and experience, we have to be able to hold space for each other and we have to be able to explain why things are the way they are. There's a lot of language around harm, right? And we talk a lot about being able to identify people who really aren't with you, who people who aren't about that. And then we forget that sometimes the people that may look like this will be in our community and that there is nuance. And yeah, there may even be people in our community standing in our way and they're responsible for harm that they contribute to, but also they are harmed. And also they are part of our community and we don't actually get to say we move forward without them. And it's really, really important that we make space for that. I have, I talked to so many movement workers who had experiences like that. Richie Recita especially went in at length about being a young person who was basically like, if you're not living this from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed, you're not about it. And if it isn't struggle, it's not the work. And forget healing, forget community building. If there are people in cages, you have to be doing nothing but this. And he said, one of his friends finally got through to him by saying, what do you think we wanted to get you free to do? To live, to be a part of our community. And we forget about that and we don't prioritize that. And so I just think that we have to be able to recognize all around the way in which this harm makes a lot of our young people feel like they can only exist to struggle. Makes a lot of people feel too that the way we reclaim power is by our ability to do harm or to coerce people to do things they wouldn't otherwise do. A lot of times we define power even within movements in these really harmful ways because it's all that we know. And that we haven't really given a how to and what goes behind the scenes for a lot of this work. A lot of it comes with time and a lot of people end up burning out if people don't make that space. And then I always try to get young people to kind of understand what it takes. I see this in campuses all of the time. When I'm meeting with black student unions or other campus groups and the biggest frustrations they'll have are for people within their group, for black people in administration. And they feel like they're the obstacles to the work they want to do. And one, I try to be really honest about the limits of what they can do, but also try to hold space and say, you know, I really want you to understand this is a harmful space for you, right? Which is why you're doing this work. And you will be here four years. And they have been here 12. And so when we're talking about harm and we're talking about what it means to survive in a place like this, it's really, really important that we recognize that across generations and what those levels of harm mean and how it can impact the ways in which we come to this work, how we can help with the work or not, and what our place might be.

Preston Vargas: Working with teams that were primarily black, I experienced when folks would have that sort of clap back or the expression that came as anger or even a little violent. And I remember doing exactly what you did. Like I stepped back and I would think, okay, I can feel the hurt there. And this person trusts me enough to be honest about the way they're feeling. And then how do we from there create a culture of care? Because I'm hearing you say we focus a lot, focus a lot on how people are doing harm. What does it then look like to shift and focus on a culture of care with people? Especially knowing that there may be people in our communities that may be standing in a way and as you said, we can't move on without them. So how are we creating a culture of care?

Ijeoma Oluo: That is such a great question and I think that's so fundamental to this work. And I think really at the heart of it, we have to really practice some radical imagination. We have to really say, and I say this on an interpersonal level, on an organization level, on a group level, what do we want a relationship to each other to look like? And everyone has to participate in this, right? So if you're working with young people and there is this disconnect and they are feeling hurt and disappointed and you're feeling confused and what is happening here, that is where it's really, really vital to think, okay, if everything is flowing smoothly and beautiful and we're able to do what we want to do, what does this look like? What do I want this relationship to be? How do I want to feel? How do I want to enter this space? How do I want to be received? What do I think we can accomplish? And then you share that and exchange that because a lot of times one of the biggest problems we have is we never voice that and we don't realize how radically different our idea of relationship can be. Or we don't even have an idea of what relationship can be. We're only aware of disconnect. We're only aware of strife. We're not aware of what we could build. And so starting with that radical vision and saying, like, if everyone entered in here and felt seen and heard and safe and appreciated, and we felt like we could work through our issues, we felt like we could move forward and everyone had space in this work, what would I be doing? What would you be doing? How would we talk to each other? And from there, actually what's in the way becomes really obvious. When you start talking about, well, you know, we would work on this and, you know, I always envisioned that in this space, you know, my experience here would be helpful. And if people are like, I don't see that, I don't see why that's helpful. Okay, well then now you have a gap you can work on. Now you have a disconnect you can work on, right? And that can work in orgs and it's vital, I think, for any people trying to do movement work, but even in interpersonal relationships, you know, when you're trying to bridge generational gaps, racial gaps, class gaps, and you're finding these issues, a lot of times you haven't had this basic conversation of like, what would it look like if I felt like I could bring my whole self into this and be completely safe? And you know, what would it look like for us to move through conflict in a way that I felt like I was happy that we moved through it? And that is something that we can all practice. And in fact, I think we must, because we really do enter into uncharted territory when we do care work and when we move away from carceral solutions to conflict, because it isn't something we're taught. You know, it isn't something that's regularly practiced or modeled for us in films, in books, in our own families often. And so we really have to start with imagining our goal and then being able to identify what, you know, falls short of that. And when we do that work, then we find where people's skill sets are in that. You know, we find ways to really appreciate what everyone brings to the table. And in that, then we find care work that's not extractive, right? You could find care work that recognizes everyone's strengths and abilities, recognizes people's needs and doesn't overtax people, that appreciates everyone, that doesn't say that this particular part of our population does all the caring and this particular population gets all of the care. We are able then to say, actually, this is what works for us all. And I think that that is so important.

Preston Vargas: I love that gap. I'm going to call it like the all nourishing abyss. For me, that's I have a friend that she says, like, I'm sending you love and beautiful darkness. And like for me, that is like the dark matter, the all nourishing abyss of the universe where infinite possibility can emerge from. And I actually was really inspired by when, you know, a piece in, well, lots of pieces in Be A Revolution, but particularly around creativity, race, the arts, arts as culture, community and culture holder. For me, I spent so many years as feeling like I was a healer and an activist and working on the front lines and the burnout was real and my immune system also could not keep up. Now in my mid 40s, I have a different experience of living in this body. And for me, it was a shift from maybe being the healer and being the activist to being the creative and the artist and the storyteller. But I felt guilty and I still sometimes do about taking up that, you know, being that artist in that space. Yet you shared a quote from Grace Lee Boggs that a people exercising their creativity in the face of devastation is one of the greatest contributions to humankind. And for me, that like encapsulates what I feel. And I hear you talk about this place in between where there is kind of this gap. I see this as, I don't feel this. Well, here's the space in between. How do we get creative about it? How do we imagine a world we may have never experienced yet? Now when I'm scrolling through what is often produced as creative content, and I recognize we're in like the age of influencers, I notice a good number of folks see those products as creativity. And for me, I don't often, I don't feel that way as an artist. I respect some of the work that's done, but I have questions about it. But I'm going to ask you in your perspective, what types of art and creativity for the liberation, abolition, wellness in the souls of BIPOC folks and, you know, in creating this world that we may have never yet lived in?

Ijeoma Oluo: Right. You know, I would say when we're talking about revolutionary art, I think it's art that moves people, right? And whether that is art that, you know, soothes broken hearts and allows people to feel like they can continue to do work, helps people feel seen, galvanizes people into action, unites people, you know, and because art can really do that. It can reach across language. It has fewer barriers than just about any other way of communicating with people. Because even if you don't speak a particular language that's being spoken, there is so much communicated when we are doing these things in artistic ways. And I think that it is really important that we recognize that there is, I feel like good art has to do that on any level, even if you're saying, you know, I am just creating, I'm not speaking to this particular political moment. If it doesn't move a person in a particular way, I just, you know, you're making wallpaper and I love wallpaper. I have wallpaper in every room of my house, but it's not, it's not the same thing. And it doesn't mean it's never right to exist. I think that what's interesting right now is with social media, with the internet, is that there are different levels of art being made. There's art that's not being made for me. There's art I do not get. You know, my youngest, my 16 year old spends a lot of time in spaces kind of consuming art that obviously has a political bent that I don't get. And I look at it and I'm like, ah, why, why this? But it's moving him and it's educating him. And he would much rather learn from any of these things than me, much rather engage with these things than me because he's 16. And therefore it has value or at least it has, you know, it's important and should be paid attention to. And then I think there is also art that, you know, there's work that co-ops this art and kind of strips it of what would move you, of what would really come from a place of community. You know, speak to change or create these authentic spaces. And it really gives this kind of facsimile of feeling. And it's a cheaper way to access it without ever feeling challenged, without, you know, ever feeling really moved. You're just kind of lulled to sleep. It's content for content's sake. And that I think it's important that we recognize it is what it is. You know, I was reading, I can't even remember where I was reading this article, but they were talking about how, you know, I have ADHD, right? So I have, you know, my brain is dopamine seeking at all time. And what was interesting was, was realizing that dopamine doesn't necessarily mean that you're valuable. So what gives my brain dopamine, what hits that fix is actually often the cheapest, least enriching content. And not, not as in like, oh, I loved it, but I'm not going to admit I loved it. I don't even love it. It is stuff that I'm like, why, why am I still staring at this? Well, because it kind of pisses me off. You know, it annoys me. Why am I in these Reddit threads? Well, because I get the high and low of like, oh, that was absurd. And then I can, you know, I feel like I've scratched that itch that my brain needs. And I feel like a lot of content that's out in the world that's being created kind of seeks to do that. But it calls itself something different. And so I think it's really important that we recognize when we're talking about art and we're talking about, you know, art in political spaces that we say, you know, there is difference in what comes from our communities, what comes from these authentic places is important. And the way we can tell is by whether or not it moves people versus placates people. You know, if it lulls people to sleep, it's not that. If it reaffirms everything that everyone's ever known, it's not that. You know, if it's something that explains a problem you've not been able to put words to, it probably is that. If it's something that gets you out into the streets, it's probably that. You know, if it's something that, you know, makes, you know, if you post something on the internet and suddenly your cousin's calling you wondering why you're calling her out with this piece of art, it's probably that, you know, like it's, these are the things you can tell by what it does. And we just have to kind of be more aware that sometimes the thing that scratches that really easy itch is the exact opposite of what we want to be really engaging with.

Preston Vargas: The art that allows folks to feel seen, moved, it breaks up the status quo. I remember years ago, I think I was an undergrad, I wrote a paper about graffiti because as a young Black man, like I definitely tagged things and a lot of my peers did. And I recognized, it took me a lot of, I don't remember how I came to the organization. I think maybe it was some reflections from friends, but it was about being seen, feeling seen and feeling visible. I didn't have the other things that the over culture was telling me made me important or visible. I didn't have the job, the car, the money, just putting my name on something meant I was seen and I was living and I was there. And now 20 years later, I'm in a therapy session and I just get your book and synchronistically the thing that comes up is this concept, this awareness that I thought I would be dead by this time. Right? I thought I would never be seen, wouldn't exist, wouldn't grow into anything. Most of the Black men in my community were dead or in jail by 30. I thought 30 was it for me. And like that was a long stretch. And most of my Black friends also felt like they were living on borrowed time. My trans and gender non-binary friends also now in their adulthood feel like they've been living on borrowed time. You've pointed this out, but I just wonder like, what does this, what do you see this doing to folks? Like when you feel like, I thought I'd be dead by now.

Ijeoma Oluo: Right? Yeah. No, it's, it is so harmful to our communities, you know, and it's not something that you can like tell people to snap out of. You can't be like, don't worry, you'll, you'll be fine because this, this idea comes from reality. It comes from the world that we come up in. And when you have, you know, an entire, a large portion of an entire society, an entire group not feeling like the future's out there for them, really feeling like their days are numbered, you know, what are you building towards? What decisions are you making with your life? You know, if you were told that you had five years to live, you would live very differently right now. And yeah, it might be cool or beautiful if you actually go out in five years, but what if you don't, you know, like then how have you lived? And if that is the case for so many people, and it's your case for your whole neighborhood, what does that mean for how a neighborhood functions? What does that mean for how you build relationships? Why do you need to have to learn conflict resolution? Why do you have to, you know, focus on education? Why would you want to do, why would you focus on building up in your community when you may go out and it may feel like your community is why you're going to go out, right? Like why would you do these things and why would you, how would you be centered enough to when you're constantly under threat? And that threat is real. And then suddenly you're 30 and you didn't actually go through these things that everyone says you're supposed to go through to emotionally mature and grow, you know, to, you didn't get to try and fail. You didn't get to do all of these things that you're supposed to do to get into a balanced adulthood and yet you're an adult and you'll be seen as an adult and punished as an adult for all of the things that you may do that may be a cause of that. And you don't actually get to go back in time. And so when I see this in our communities, I see a couple of things happening. So it was so interesting talking to Manny who had said, you know, like he had felt like he wasn't going to live past 16 and that so many other kids hadn't, my partner had said that to me multiple times that he, you know, he grew up in the crack era and in a black neighborhood in the nineties, feeling like, yeah, he wasn't going to make it to 18. Absolutely. And how harmful that is. And I would say that there are a couple of different things that happen. Like one thing that happens is you have a lot of young people who really live like it's, I better get life before life gets me, you know, I have to do all of these things and they're not planning long-term. And then you also have people. And I would say often black women end up in this category who feel like, oh, I have to do everything perfect. And I better be an adult from the moment that I'm born. And what's interesting is really both of these things end up in a suspended adolescence. It looks wildly different, but you know, as a black woman in my forties realizing that I didn't actually get to experience being a teenager, you know, I felt like if I wasn't going to be a statistic, I was going to make every perfect decision. And I was going to care for everybody. And I had to care for everybody. And you know, I was going to be serious all the way through. And now, you know, I'm like, oh, well, shit, you know, I, I don't get to go do that again. And I'm watching my kids and trying to make space for them to be kids. And that's, you know, it's unfamiliar for me. It's really unfamiliar. And so that is where it really breaks my heart because you can make recompense for so many things, but we don't actually get to give people life back. We don't get to give formative years back to people. And we have to acknowledge that because when we talk about moving forward as a community, when we talk about all the things we need to do to bring our community together and change all of these things, we don't actually talk about the healing that has to be done. We don't need, we don't talk about the reconciling with that harm that has to be done, because I think that that's a huge component. When we talk about healing, we don't, we, we think of it as like, you can put an ointment on it and it goes away and not, we have to reconcile with harm done and figure out who we are in this reality. And it also means that, you know, we have to really make protecting the phases of life that our young people are supposed to have a priority of our work. Instead of often what we lean into, which is either teaching them to survive at all costs or teaching them to be above reproach and thinking that somehow then they will escape the reality of what they're in. And instead saying, we have to protect for while they're here, their ability to be young people, like that has to be a goal. And that's often missed. And then even when we make systemic progress, we end up really kind of codifying this sort of harm to our younger generations.

Preston Vargas: And that codification comes in the carceral system as well. And I think one of the, one of the shifts in my heart and in experiencing your body of work has been around this piece of a suspended adolescence or the reconciliation around healing. And then, you know, especially in protecting our young folks, how do we engage in learning and accountability and growing up that is not punishment and revenge and retribution. And I don't know if many folks actually get the distinction between accountability and the learning process or in the carceral system of revenge and retribution. And I'm just wondering if you could break that out for us a little bit.

Ijeoma Oluo: Yeah. And this is actually something I struggle with as a mom of a teenager. Like I feel like, you know, the last kid in the house gives you a run for your money and mine absolutely does. And you know, pushing every button possible, trying to, you know, work his way around every rule possible. And I'm trying to seriously engage with this as I parent and trying to, you know, use these skills. And for me, I think it's really important to recognize and Miriam Kaba breaks this down really well as well. You know, accountability, right, is about the relationship you have with other people and people that you've harmed or contributed to harm. And accountability is about restoring that balance. It's about, you know, recognizing and reducing harm. Right. And so if you are in a position of authority and you abuse that authority, accountability is you do not get that authority anymore. And not until you can prove you can, you know, that you can handle it. And then you still may not, if, you know, it just doesn't work out that way. It's also looking at repairing that harm and going through a process to look at what contributed to the harm. You know, did the space you're in contribute to the harm? You know, how can we make sure this doesn't happen again? And how can we protect space for the person who needs to heal from that harm? And usually and always accountability has to be connected to the harm done. So you couldn't say you had this power at work and you hurt me. Therefore you're not allowed to do this particular thing outside of work anymore. Like that's, if it's not connected, it doesn't work. And so like as a parent, I always have to remember that, right? Because I grew up with, if you did something wrong, regardless of what it was, you were, you either had to get the belt or you weren't allowed to go anywhere and interact with anyone for a particular period of time. And unless the, you know, unless the harm done had to do with something around interacting with these particular people, like that is not punishment that works and never is go get the belt going to be directly connected to the harm done. And so I'm always trying to think of like, okay, so, you know, if, if I told my son, you know, he could hang out with friends and, you know, the agreement that allows me to know that he's safe is that he's honest about where he's going and what he's doing. And then I find out he was not. And then, you know, the accountability isn't, you don't get to go anywhere or see anyone. It's okay. That freedom that you had to, you know, go and hang out with this particular group right now is curtailed until, you know, I'm feeling that there is some consistency, but it's also there's consent in this process. So we talk and it's not just, I've decided this is the punishment. It's let's talk about this. This is, you know, what I want in the relationship. I need to know that I can trust you in this space. What do you want from this? You know, I want to do what I want, you know, and okay. So where do we meet in the middle here? And now when we're talking about accountability, you know, you, you are accountable to the way in which you broke my trust here. And therefore you don't have it in this space right now. And this is how it comes back, right? And that's it. And people will be like, well, that's it. You didn't, you didn't ground him. He can go out, you know, he could still, he could still have friends in your house. Yeah. Because nothing happened in our house. He can have friends in our house, but well, he's not really pun, no, he it's not punishment. I'm not punishing, you know, like that's the thing. This is accountability. This is how we move forward. And I think that that is hard for people because the fast, easy way that it seems like is if, if the consequence is big enough and painful enough, you won't do it. And it doesn't work in our carceral systems. It certainly doesn't work with teenagers. All it does is tell them get better at hiding that next time, get better at lying next time. Because they don't actually understand what they did wrong or why it's you made a rule and it was violated. And it's the same with society. And so looking at that and saying like, just like I was saying before about imagining the relationship. Imagine this, and even though it really annoys him, you know, what, how do you, what's the solution you envision to this? Because we have a breakdown right now in our relationship around you and how much time, you know, where you go and what you do and how much freedom you want versus like my job as a parent to make sure you're safe. And so what, how do you envision this? Let's re-imagine this together. Let's see what's in the way of us being able to accomplish that. It is more work on the front end. But at the end of the day, he doesn't feel like I'm a jailer. I don't feel like I have to, I'm punishing. We're not repeating patterns over and over and over. And he is learning skills that will help him his whole life. And he is learning how to build relationships that aren't about power, that aren't about punishment because we really carry that, we carry that into our intimate relationships. We carry this into everything. And that is what I want. You know, the most important relationship he will have in his young life is with me and how we move through that. I have to take really, really seriously. And I think we forget that, that it's not just, do you keep your kid alive for 18 years? You're teaching them. You are the most important model of what relationships look like for the young people in your life.

Preston Vargas: For me, that's such a wealth. Like, and I feel like that's redefining intergenerational wealth. Like it's not based off of the Western capitalist model of you buy this individual piece of property, you milk the resources, you know, it's all yours and you court it. But this skill building, this emotional maturity, the relationships as part of the intergenerational wealth we can build in BIPOC communities. What are some of the reframings around wealth or the other aspects that contribute to intergenerational wealth to be able to break out of these cycles that you've been naming?

Ijeoma Oluo: You know, that is such a great question. And this was something that, you know, hit my family in such a weird way, because I mean, I grew up in extreme poverty. We were homeless at times, often, you know, didn't have food, didn't have electricity, didn't have phone for most of my childhood. And even as a young writer, I was, you know, writers don't get paid a lot of money. And then suddenly I had this sort of success that had me in a financial place that I hadn't been in before. And I had to really make a decision of like, what does this mean? What does it mean to be financially successful to me and my ethos? And you know, I, for me, it meant a couple of things. It meant that I could try to build as much community and insulate my community from, you know, systemic harm as much as possible. And so that meant like building a space for my mother to live in, you know, and like investing in education for relatives. And then it also meant that, you know, I remember when 2020 hit and, you know, as an artist, I was watching everyone's work dry up, you know, and this was around the time that we started the Artist Relief Fund. But on a personal level, I remember thinking, if I get through this, and I told my partner this because we were looking at budget and looking at all of the gigs that were canceled. I said, if I get through this with a full bank account and all of these other people I've worked with are struggling, we've done something really wrong, really, really wrong. And so we had to look at it and really say, what is this for? What did we do this for? What are we doing this for? And what can we do to build? And so, you know, we were just paying people to live. You know, we were like, we want, this is our definition. And we had to challenge it a lot because there were a lot of people in our lives who we would call and say, how are you doing? You need anything? How are you doing? Oh, you know, I'll figure it out. I'll figure it out. I'll figure it out. You know, and I have to remind people, I thought you were anti-capitalist. So you're not going to let me hand you some of this. You're not going to let me do this. You know, you really think, do you think I worked this much harder than you to get you here? Like, take this, do this. And it's so important that we ask, like at the end of the day, what is this for? What are we trying to build? What, you know, when we think of wealth and what it will build us, especially when we've been denied it, we often think like there is a dollar amount that will get us in a particular place. We don't actually work from where do we want to be? What do we think it will get us? And for so many of us, especially I would say for populations of color, what we think it will get us is community, safety, connection, belonging, opportunity. And so then the question is, okay, that's the goal. It's not a dollar amount. That's the wealth. Because if it's not, there's very few people I know who are like, I just want that number in a bank, at least not in communities of color. Like I really do feel like we are oriented toward each other. There's a lot of programming that tries to pull us away from that. Right. But we are oriented toward each other. And when we envision what we would do with our millions, it is often I'm going to build my mom a house. I'm going to do all these things. Right. Right.

Preston Vargas: And that's literally 

Ijeoma Oluo: Building my mom a house was like, oh, dream come true. Right. But then it means like we can, we can actually build that. You don't have to have the millions. We can start building that today. And so that's what I loved, you know, when I was looking at the business section for the book, which I wasn't even sure how that was going to go. I started first with unions and I was like, who's fighting the system. And then I was like, wait though, let's building something completely different and finding that you could have a coffee shop and say from the ground up, everything about this coffee shop is going to be about building up community from the rules, from the dress code, from everything. It's going to be building our community up, you know, getting young people to move up and out of here as quickly as possible to their dreams, you know, doing all of these things. There's so many different ways that we can define wealth and we have to start with the end goal. We have to, we have to let go of the, I'm going to have this much in the bank and say, what would it get us? Okay. So now how can we get this together? Because if the end of the day, if you envision community with you, you can envision community with you in your definition of wealth and then think you're going to go build it all on your own. That's not how that works, you know? And that is something that I think we have to really challenge because we are spoon fed that idea, right? That kind of flexible dream. You get the right degree, you become a lawyer, you become a doctor, and then suddenly you have a big house and then suddenly black people find their way to your house where no other black people live, you know, like all of these things that don't happen, right? If you envision community there with you at the end, then you have to build it with community.

Preston Vargas: Ashay, I had goosebumps through that piece. Thank you, Ijeoma Oluo, for just a soulful, soulful conversation tonight.

Ijeoma Oluo: Same. Thank you. And for such thoughtful questions. And it is really a pleasure.

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Thank you for listening to the CIIS Public Programs Podcast. Our talks and conversations are presented live in San Francisco, California. We recognize that our university’s building in San Francisco occupies traditional, unceded Ramaytush Ohlone lands. If you are interested in learning more about native lands, languages, and territories, the website native-land.ca is a helpful resource for you to learn about and acknowledge the Indigenous land where you live.

Podcast production is supervised by Kirstin Van Cleef at CIIS. Audio production is supervised by Lyle Barrere at Desired Effect. The CIIS Public Programs team includes Izzy Angus, Kyle DeMedio, Alex Elliott, Emlyn Guiney, Patty Pforte, Nikki Roda, and Pele Shalev. If you liked what you heard, please subscribe wherever you find podcasts, visit our website ciis.edu, and connect with us on social media @ciispubprograms.

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