In Honor of Marcy Westerling

Last week I had the honor of coordinating the logistics for a memorial service for Marcy Westerling, a friend and mentor who died in June of ovarian cancer. I was moved by her life, remembering how she lived her values so consistently and how loving she was. (Feisty too!) I felt honored, blessed and inspired by the people around me - by activist friends I’ve known over the years and through many struggles, and I felt part of a big, loving, diverse community. I felt proud to be part of it, happy to be giving my work in service to these people, inspired and connected to something deep and meaningful and important - struggling for justice, resisting oppression, building a movement. I felt like an ally, and found myself wanting to be more of an ally - to be more connected, more willing to take action in solidarity with people, more willing to speak out.

It was inspiring and healing to be among activists and organizers who have been mobilizing to end discrimination in their communities - first by opposing laws that legalized discrimination agains gays and lesbians, and connecting that to the larger need to ensure safe and inclusive communities for everyone - committing to building resistance to racism, supporting the rights of immigrants and building a base of people willing to stand up for inclusive democracy. These are my people. I felt I was in the exact right place and that these were my people and that I have a place and a home among them.

This was a healing, or a homecoming for me. I had felt so much a part of the work of social justice organizing when I was organizing for a living and also volunteering on projects. When I had kids and stopped being a full-time paid activist, I lost a sense of place in the movement. My identity shifted. Attending meetings was so much harder. I didn’t have the freedom to be as involved as I had been, nor the support I would have needed to make it be sustainable for myself or my children. I felt ashamed and disconnected - like I wasn’t doing the work I was “supposed” to be doing because so much of my identity had been wrapped up in being an organizer. When I was “just a mother,” it was hard to see that my work mattered in the same way. I put my energy into kids activities, caring and care giving, but I often felt I wasn’t doing enough to promote social justice values.

I look back and see that I was busy caring for my kids, helping my mother at the end of her life, caring for my husband through his illness and death from cancer, taking care of his business, going to grad school, trying to parent and be part of my community. And I see that carrying a feeling of “not enough “ didn’t serve me or inspire me. I have a little more compassion for myself in retrospect - these have been some hard years. Parenting and caregiving are tough work, and the grief and isolation I felt after my husband’s death took a toll on my energy, my sense of having something to give.

Being part of this memorial service gave me an opportunity to contribute something in a meaningful way. I gave my heart to bringing people together to honor and celebrate Marcy’s legacy, both because I love her and because she has something so powerful and important that she brought to the world and I wish to carry it forward. The new insight I’m left with is that the shame of “I’m not doing enough” never served me. I’m seeing that the self-imposed exile I’d felt when I entered into parenthood was an illusion, and that the connections faded, but didn’t die.

Besides the lessons of organizing and standing up for justice, I’ve also learned that we need to start where we are. When Marcy found out she had stage IV ovarian cancer and was dying, she used that as an opportunity to support others, to share the painful, gritty truth about living with cancer, and to live fully. Here is a link to her blog, livingly dying. Her story put words to some of the emotions I’d felt when my husband was dying - emotions I’d tried not to feel, but that I was grateful to name and acknowledge. She believed her story could help others.

I am writing today in honor of Marcy, and also because I want to get used to telling more of my story. To share the struggle, both for my own sake and so that others may be less alone. Changing the world is a courageous act. Being an ally takes courage. Standing up for our rights takes courage. Speaking truth takes courage. Making others uncomfortable takes courage. For me, acknowledging the struggle of parenting and the reality of grieving takes a kind of courage. And the way we get courage is to talk to each other - to not be alone - to share stories, support each other and encourage each other to do what we can. This is what she taught me. I hope I can carry some of that forward.

For great stories about grassroots organizing, check out Rural Organizing Voices, an oral history project featuring Marcy Westerling and organization she founded, Rural Organizing Project.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=365W0sJq8BE
http://ruralorganizingvoices.org/history-overview/