Solidarity
It’s a word that often appears at the end of a letter from people who identify as (or who want to be seen as) leftist, progressive, left-leaning, labour friendly, radical, activist…Have I covered them all? Please, fill in your identity, and think about what, exactly, you are signalling when you say, Solidarity, sister!
Does it mean you agree with me absolutely? Does it mean that you disagree, but you support my right to stand up for my beliefs? Does it mean you have no idea what is important to me, but you like the sound of the word?
SOL. I. DARE. I. TY.
Recently, a colleague said that she didn’t see much solidarity in a group we both belong to. She said it in response to a long discussion about signing on to a letter she’d written. Some people chose to sign on without asking for any changes; some pointed out errors or requested certain deletions and additions as a requisite for their support; some elected to write their own letters. Some temporarily abstained pending further information.
The thing that struck me is this: No one in the group said that the sign-on letter should be scrapped. Everyone acknowledged that the anger was justified; that those who wanted to send the letter had good reason for their decision.
We didn’t all agree about the exact nature of our action. We didn’t agree about the words we should use to voice our shared concerns. We didn’t agree about the severity of the problem.
We did agree that there was a problem, and we did agree that some response was required now or in the near future. Each of us was, in fact, in solidarity with the letter-writer, with others in the group.
I think this little group with their concerns over an issue that is vital to them, but irrelevant to most of you, I think this group is a cipher for every other group of humans. You and I, for instance. All of you; I’m not singling out one person, or obliquely referencing you in real life. We’re all in this together.
Of course we disagree about things. And, sometimes, our disagreement leads us to a truth neither of us suspected at the outset. Sometimes not. There are so many paths that open every time we see things differently.
We can choose to clamber down opposite sides of the mountain, stick to our stories, and lose sight of each other.
We can investigate and (perhaps) eventually find ourselves on the same side.
We can make our way through the woods on slowly converging paths.
We can wander, explore, meet new people on the mountain, learn unrelated things, and muse on the problem for as long as it takes.
On this enormous, craggy, soft-sloped, river-running, cloud-cloaked, rock-jutting, plateaued, cliffed, and magnificent mountain, I’m in solidarity with you, my fellow being. If I come across you clinging to a precipice, I’ll do my best to haul you up, I’ll burst my lungs crying out for help, I’ll hang on sweat-soaked.
(If you kick me away and smile as your hands slip, I might have to let you go. I won’t grieve. I did my best, and the best of each of us is beauty.)
We all have our journeys. We won’t always want the same thing. But we can, if we choose, always want the best for each other.
SOL – sun, shine, star, sunlight, sunrise, aubade (“A piece sung or played outdoors at dawn, usually as a compliment to someone.”)
I – Me, myself, my ego, yes, but also my heart and soul. This is me, looking into your eyes, seeing you.
DARE – I dare to believe in you, to reach across the roaring abyss for you, when I don’t agree with you.
I – This is you, believing in me. (Or, you know, it could just be me again.)
TY – Thank you.