Chickadee Strong

We Minnesotans are banding together in an inclusive, cohesive, peaceful rebel alliance, just like chickadees.

(Listen to the radio version here.)

For the past several weeks, since my daughter’s diagnosis of multiple myeloma, I’ve been watching her, my son-in-law Michael, and my grandson Walter negotiate every cataclysmic change in their daily lives with such powerful grace and strength, leaving me awestruck even as I ache for them.

Now I find myself weeping for other people’s children, too—the young mother with a child Walter’s age and the young ICU nurse at Minneapolis’s VA hospital, both exactly half my age, both gunned down at close range by cold-blooded, masked gunmen. And I weep for countless others—adults and children alike—murdered, abducted from their homes, schools, workplaces, neighborhoods, automobiles, courtroom steps, and even hospitals by these same hired goons. The mainstream media doesn’t cover most of the stories, especially when they involve immigrants—here legally or not—or citizens of color. Somehow much of America has ceded the argument that the same immigrants who have provided so much of our food, healthcare, and other basic services throughout history don’t deserve even the most rudimentary of human rights. Meanwhile, our nation’s own Jabba the Hutt sits atop his golden throne with his freakishly tiny hands, leering eyes, and salivating jowls, smirking at every bit of cruelty and demanding more.

Like the Rebel Alliance, we Minnesotans are banding together in solidarity. As if inspired by our own chickadees, who flock with birds not only of their own species but any birds who join them in peace, we welcome into our alliance anyone who comes in peace and solidarity. The Empire’s test of loyalty? Their followers must accept and repeat brazen lies despite all the eyewitnesses and video proof we can see with our own eyes.

Minnesotans—humans and chickadees both—are warm-blooded and usually peaceful. Through all the protests this weekend, not one person on our side has attacked even the most deserving of those cold-blooded murderers physically. But we remain ever mindful of danger, alerting one another of the killers in our midst. Chickadees warn everyone in their community—even squirrels—of danger using high-frequency calls. We humans can’t produce that kind of auditory signal with our vocal apparatus, so we’ve taken to using manufactured whistles.

I’ve only had one interaction with a border patrol agent in my life, during my Big Year, at the checkpoint outside Las Cruces, New Mexico. A huge semi had pulled in before me, and as I waited my turn while the agents went through every inch of the truck, suddenly a roadrunner ran up right next to my car.

I took this photo in Texas during my Big Year, but never did get to take a picture of the one at that New Mexico border stop.

I reflexively opened the window, pulled up my camera, and pointed it at the bird. The truck, the building, and the agents were all in the opposite direction, but before I could even focus my camera, an agent ran up, pulling his gun out of his holster, instantly scaring off the roadrunner as he yelled at me to put down my camera—no photos allowed! When he got to my car, gun still in hand, he demanded my identification and car registration, and asked what the hell I was doing taking a picture on federal property. I said I was trying to photograph that roadrunner and offered to show him the bird pictures on my camera to prove that’s all I was up to. He told me I was lucky he wasn’t arresting me or confiscating my camera and told me to shut my window and put my damned camera on the floor. He walked away shaking his head, finally putting his gun away—the audacity of some stupid Minnesota woman acting like she was in a free country! I was shaken after the encounter even as I was mindful of how being a middle-aged white woman had protected me. Imagine if I’d had darker skin or an accent!

This was in 2013, during the Obama administration. I’ve always known that although there are a lot of good cops, many of the people drawn to jobs where they get to carry a gun and boss people around are bullies. Policemen and border patrol agents are trained, and although that training can make them hypervigilant, it’s also supposed to make them aware of the limits of their power, even as historically many of them have exceeded those limits. Here in Minnesota, anyone familiar with the cases of George Floyd, Philando Castile, and too many others knows our shameful history of letting local, state, and federal officers off lightly even when they are proven to have used excessive force against someone posing no threat at all. These new ICE agents are minimally trained, if at all, and are being goaded on by that insatiable Jabba the Hutt and his bloodthirsty goon squad.

My treasured friend Jennifer Rycenga, a noted author and professor at San Jose State University, wrote some very hopeful words on Facebook today:

As I understand the history of German resistance to the rise of the Nazis, the movements opposed to Hitler were unable to unify quickly across existing lines of class, religion, and political affiliation/identity. We all know that there were brave instances of resistance in Nazi Germany, most notably the White Rose movement, and the Nazis responded with many executions and torturing of German opponents to Hitler and his regime. But it was never society-wide or organized in a way that allowed it to be effective against the odds that Nazi power presented.

As I am reading what is happening in Minneapolis - and what I’ve seen in other cities and at various protests and No Kings marches - there are lively coalitions across lines of race, religion/no-religion, workers, lgbtq, feminist, class, and, MOST IMPORTANTLY, standing up for the group being targeted - immigrants - and trying to shield them.

Again, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I don’t think there was a huge movement of gentile Germans in the pre-Kristallnacht period to support and protect their Jewish German neighbors.

If I am right, I’d say WE THE PEOPLE are outperforming the comparative example. There’s still a long way to go, and I fear there will be more horrific violence... But there are a lot of people enraged by what is happening and taking action despite—maybe even _because_ of—the risks.

Jennifer’s historical context gives me a new hope that our real-life Rebel Alliance will prevail while we still have at least a semblance of democracy, as long as our numbers grow and we continue to stand together.

My commitment to the Minnesota community is strong and committed, but to protect my own mental health, I need to shut out my nightmare vision of that powerful, real-life Jabba the Hutt. So I’m going to take a respite this week by traveling down memory lane all the way to South America, focusing on some of the splendid birds I enjoyed on my trips to Guyana in May and Ecuador in December. To wash out ugly images of that monstrous orange Jabba, I’ll begin tomorrow with a much lovelier shade of orange.