Nourishing Liberatory Possibilities:

A Letter from the Editor

Alyssa Smaldino (she/they)

Listen to the Letter:

Those of us with our senses attuned to liberatory possibility may have noticed a pattern in recent years. Across the internet, artistic and creative expressions visualize a new world order that transcends capitalism, white dominance, and patriarchy—what Joanna Macy coined "The Great Turning." People are refining their understanding of the systems and cultures that dominate our violent society, and experimenting with new ways of being that value safety and care for all. 

I’ve been moved by the emergence of magazines that document these experiments and steward us toward collective new futures. Magazines like Hammer & Hope, Gumbo, Womanly, Emergence, and Acacia, to name just a few. What I love about the expression of a magazine, in particular, is its ability to shape our knowledge and titillate our senses: to impart words and images, reporting and stories, analysis and poetry. 

The more inspiration I sourced from the pages of these magazines, the more my imagination expanded. I also noticed that, in most cases, they featured Black and brown artists speaking primarily to their peers. They were culturally informed and focused. I began to search for artistic expressions by white people that might inspire other white people to co-create a world where we no longer hoard power, safety, and wealth. I kept coming up short. 

Through my work as an anti-racism organizer, I knew white folks were engaged in the work of recreating the world. I met organizers connecting with the descendants of the people their families enslaved and initiating reparations processes. I read about religious leaders giving their churches’ land back to Indigenous people. I participated in somatic abolitionist* practice groups where white people were confronting our complicity in maintaining the racist status quo. I witnessed us holding each other through the delicate process of rewiring our nervous systems so we can normalize new humanistic behaviors. 

As I considered the gap between actions on the ground and the absence of art and stories about white anti-racist organizing, I could hear the questions of Black teachers and mentors such as Drs. Ron Chisom and Kimberley Richards of PISAB and Dr. Resmaa Menakem in my mind: where are the stories of white anti-racist organizing being documented? How might they be amplified as invitations for more white people to learn about and join anti-racism efforts? How can our stories open portals to liberatory possibilities?

In dialogue with my white accountability buddy, Julienne Kaleta, we decided to create a home for stories of white anti-racist organizing. We knew from the start that words were not enough. To shape a culture where it’s okay for white people to mess up and fail and grow in our journeys toward new futures, we need art. We need visuals that soothe us as words challenge our thinking. Thankfully, Julienne’s illustrations do just that, as with the visual art submissions we received—from kelly drumright’s foraged materials-turned-movement memorabilia to Stephanie Land’s meticulously-crafted sculptures, which I see as gravestones to white silence. White people are, indeed, shaping culture beyond our legacy of racism. 

The pieces gathered here reflect just the tip of the iceberg in this “Great Turning.” But if we could unveil the whole iceberg, it still would not be enough. We need all white people to organize for anti-racism, and Libertroph Issue 01 shows us that any white person can step into this movement. Elizabeth Woodson describes herself as a “12th generation descendant of European settlers;” Julienne Kaleta unearths the myths and memories of their Irish ancestors; David Billings speaks of growing up in a Mississippi town called “the most violent city on earth in 1962.” 

Before our ethnic cultures were melted into the pot we call America, white people represented a wide diversity of experiences globally. We all have an entry point into liberation through our distinct ancestral memory. And—as the Re-Calling Our Ancestors team reminds us—no matter who or where we come from, our people assimilated to whiteness together, “and so we must undo this together.” 

After reading and re-reading each of the pieces in Libertroph Issue 01 through a layered editing process, I am more confident than ever that we not only can undo racism together, but we are undoing racism** together. 

In Spring 2001, an editorial in the Race Traitor journal proclaimed, “The existence of the white race depends on the willingness of those assigned to it to place their racial interests above class, gender, or any other interests they hold. The defection of enough of its members to make it unreliable as a predictor of behavior will lead to its collapse.”

In the inaugural issue of Libertroph Magazine, we see examples of white artists, scholars, and organizers whose behavior is not predicated on their race. In other words, they are slowing down with intention, rather than speeding by with the urgency of capitalism; they are giving money away, rather than hoarding it; they are speaking truth to power and embracing the conflict that follows, rather than sweeping it all under the rug. They are being nourished by liberation. They are libertrophs.*** 

I hope their stories bring you a renewed sense of possibility. And if you are racialized as white, I invite you to join us in defecting from the harmful behaviors of the white race. There are many ways to do that, as you’ll see illuminated in these pages. But choose one. Today. We can no longer afford for you to wait. Our collective humanity depends on it. 

With care,

Alyssa

Footnotes

*Credit to Dr. Resmaa Menakem for crafting this language, and thanks to him plus the team at Education for Racial Equity for organizing spaces for white folks to be in this practice together

**Shoutout to the People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond’s Undoing Racism®/Community Organizing workshop, which gives us both the language and analysis to undo racism. The inspiration and clarity garnered by those of us who have found a pathway into anti-racist organizing through this workshop is reflected in many of the pieces in this magazine.

***You can learn more about the meaning of Libertroph on the bottom of our About page.


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Ancestral Grief as a Portal Towards Palestinian Solidarity