How We Show Up

5 questions for author and activist Mia Birdsong

In my old life, I went to a lot of conferences. Too many, I now realize. At one such conference, on what are called two-generation solutions to poverty, I asked the organizers, “Who are the three people here that I’ve just got to meet?”

I love learning from people, especially those that are expert in the things I’m most attracted to writing about (economic justice being one of them). One of the names they gave me was Mia Birdsong, which you can imagine, stuck with me from minute one.

We decided to meet back up in Oakland, where we were both living. I can still remember the first time I sat across the table from her. It was electric. Right away I could tell that she was unlike anyone I’d ever known—self-assured, voraciously curious, soulful, funny, and quick. She said things about poverty that, in one instant, transformed the way I thought about it. She laughed loud, her eyes alight. She talked about parenting, partnering, collaborating with such wisdom that I knew I wanted to be near her as witness and, if I was lucky, a friend.

Well that has all come to pass and then some. I still find her luminous and utterly unique. And I am so excited that she had her first book, How We Show Up: Reclaiming Family, Friendship, and Community, published this week. I knew I wanted you all to be near her wisdom, too…

Courtney: What inspired you to write How We Show Up?

Honestly, I was approached by an editor after an event I was part of for your last book. She asked me if I thought I had a book in me. I said yes, because I knew there was something I was trying to hone in on, something I was trying to get clear about, but wasn't sure what it was. She asked me smart, probing questions and I realized that what I wanted to write about was what I needed answers to. I had questions about belonging, intimacy, interdependence, and accountability that I wanted to figure out for my own life. So I wrote the book I needed to read.

You obviously never could have anticipated publishing your book in the middle of what we might look back on as a watershed moment on police abolition and a renaissance of communal public safety approaches, but your book has so much to say about this moment. What are some of the ways in which your book speaks to this specific moment?

My entry point to activism was abolition. Two decades ago, my attention was limited to the ending policing and prisons part. But abolition really invites us to imagine and build a world where we are all valued and have access to the things we need to live a life of wellbeing. We get to the future we want by practicing it. So in addition to rightfully railing against police, we need to figure out how to be in the world in our actual communities, with our family and friends, in ways that reflect the world we want to live in.

For the chapter in the book on safety, I talked with several folks--Mimi Kim, Ejeris Dixon, and Mia Mingus among them--who have long practiced approaches to addressing harm that are relevant to how we think about abolition, but also to how we be in really grown-ass adult relationship with others. Prisons and policing are obviously rooted in white supremacy. They are destructive and don’t make us safe. They are also avoidant and treat people as disposable. They don’t have a process to address or prevent future harm--there’s no healing, there’s no accountability, there’s no repair.

We need those things to address all the harms we experience and perpetrate, whether it’s actions that the criminal legal system classifies as “crime” or when we’re assholes to the people in our lives. The skills that folks like Mimi, Ejeris, and Mia practice address and prevent harm. Those skills are centered around building deep, interdependent, caring community. 

You feature the stories of all kinds of radical thinkers and doers. How did you think about "expertise" while you were deciding who to interview?

In my social justice work, I’ve always been clear that the people who are closest to an issue or problem are the ones who have the best solutions and practices. Expertise, especially for this book, was about lived experience. I was not really interested in talking to people who study chosen family, queerplatonic relationships, or accountability. I wanted to talk with people who are doing family, friendship, and community in ways that model the relationships I want to have and the world I want to live in. The people I’ve seen practice the most powerful, expansive, inclusive, beautiful forms of family and community are people who’ve been marginalized in some way--Black folks, queer people, poor folks, people with disabilities, etc.--so that’s who I talked to.

You write “finding and strengthening connection is a craft, not a science.” What is one way that readers can hone their craft right now?

We’re experiencing multiple crises right now--a global pandemic, another cycle of police violence, and the escalating fascism of our government. Institutions and systems of care and support are either alarmingly unprepared to help us or just don’t even exist. We’re left with each other. But the culture that people in America have been socialized in has a lot of us poorly prepared for interdependence. Sheltering in place has shaken some of that socialization loose. But for what I fear is coming, we need to dig deeper into our interdependence by reaching for the generous parts of ourselves, the parts of ourselves that can think abundantly, the intuition that tells us who to check in on and what to offer by way of support. We also need to get better at asking for and accepting support--not only when we’re desperate and we need it, but just because it would lighten our load.

One of the things I learned from several of the people I interviewed for the book is how to offer help that is specific and focuses on creating ease. Instead of saying, “Let me know if I can help,” or “Do you need anything?” You might say, “If I brought you dinner tomorrow would that be helpful?” Or “I know you’re doing a lot of care taking right now, can I spend an hour on Zoom with your kid tomorrow so you can take some time for yourself?” It’s easier to say yes to something specific instead of having to think up what would be helpful, decide whether or not you think it’s a doable ask, and then make the request.

I was also particularly struck by the idea that it’s about what would bring ease, not necessarily meet a need. I may not need someone to bring me dinner. But when I’m stretched thin and all I can manage for my kids is another box of mac and cheese, bringing us dinner would make my life a little easier.

Giving and accepting support strengthens our relationships because it builds intimacy by allowing us to know each other more deeply. And the fact is, there are times when we really do need other folks--I suspect many of us are going to be in that position in the coming months since this virus isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. When you’ve built that intimacy with others it makes asking for help when you need it a little easier.

You write: “We get to the future we want by practicing it now.” What are you practicing these days?

So many things!

Mutuality. I’m facilitating and participating in several circles of mutual support. We’re processing our feelings, sharing our thinking and collective wisdom, updating each other on what’s going on in our lives. A couple of those spaces existed before we began sheltering in place, but a few are new. I’m so grateful to have these amazing people to navigate all of this with. If folks want a little instruction on how to do that, they can read the piece you and I wrote on women’s circles--identifying as a woman is not inherent in our advice.

Accepting help. A friend of mine texts me and a couple of other folks when she goes grocery shopping to ask if she can get us anything from the store. I’m always a little uncomfortable saying yes, because I know what a pain in the ass grocery shopping has become. But I say yes almost every time because it’s legitimately helpful. If we’re out of two or three essentials--like salt or coffee or oats--I don’t want to go to the store. Her support has often meant we can go another week without shopping. And I know she’s happy to do it. I know that being supportive in that way feels good to her.

Generosity. I’m doing a lot of sharing. I’m being generous with my time. I’m listening to what people might want and making those specific offers. I’m really leaning on my gardening skills to be supportive. For example, a friend of mine wanted to learn to garden. So I got containers, soil, compost, and garden starts. They stayed inside their home while I set things up. I did these little videos explaining what I was doing and how to care for the plants. It was delightful for me.

I planted a lot of food in March when this all started because I wanted to be prepared if our food system fell apart. We’ve got more than we can eat right now--kale and collards, plus eggs from our chickens. So I’ll put stuff on my porch and then text neighbors or friends and let them know they can come get what they want. The feeling I get from that kind of generosity is not about doing the right thing or earning points with people or my gods. It restores my spirit. As everything goes to shit, that restoration is life giving.

Joy. My family that I Iive with--my husband and our kids--are laughing a lot. We are hella funny--to each other, at least. Also, a few times a week I blast Soca and dance and sing while I garden. Some of my neighbors might be tired of hearing “Roll It Gal,” but no one has complained yet.

Connecting with nonhuman life. One of the things that brings me a lot of comfort is knowing that I don’t have to physically distance from all of my relations, just the human ones. I can hug a tree and not have to worry about getting or transmitting a virus. I can lay on the ground and literally be held by the earth. Sometimes I just sit with one of my houseplants and observe it. I get close to plants or watch the bees and birds to listen and see what they have to tell me.

Don’t forget to buy Mia’s book! And you can watch her TED talk or her new show, My Brilliant Friends. I was lucky enough to be her fourth guest. Her Instagram is also slammin.