Big Lesson Learned

"I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." -W.B. Keats I failed in my attempt at activism yesterday. I went in protected as I knew I should. I went with a stone in my pocket which wards off attack, an anklet of grounding and protection to make sure I rooted down, I even had a copper pendant shielding my heart from the attempts to deflate it I knew would come. Not to mention I have been trained now, I am ready for near anything on this issue, my confidence in the cause is embedded to the core of my being. It was the Elmore County Fair afterall, and I expected some hostility. Since I had with me the daughter of a farmer from Elmore County that opposed the plant, I somehow felt local. This is the mistake I made. After about 15 minutes working together, I looked at the size of the people we needed to talk to and the time I had left, and I suggested we split up. I have now learned the number one rule of this kind of activism, DON'T EVER SPLIT UP. She said she wanted to, was ready, felt safe and comfortable. She said she knew what to say and how to articulate it. She came back 30 minutes later in tears, tears that would not quit flowing. "I don't know why I am crying," she said, "I just can't stop." Only one person was really mean to her. Telling her that what she was saying was lies, that she was wrong, implying that we, the group she was supporting, was illegitimate. It was enough to deflate her confidence, enough to shake her to the core. Immediately, I realized my mistake. What was I thinking? I was thinking she was protected like me. I was thinking she was ready, that was too wrong, not at all the case. I had not trained her, not even close. She had watched me, we had talked about the key points, but I had been greedy, and as a result she was devastated. After comforting her I went up to the guy who had inflicted the damage. "I hear you have some questions about the credibility of the organization I work for and I would like to answer those" He stammered through with me. I nailed each one of his points, grounded in nothing other than the stereotype in his head that I was an environmentalist. I unveiled the lack of self-interest at play in our work, I had him suggesting strategy by the end. I reminded him that he had just brought a college girl, a local girl, to tears with his hostility. I asked him to be more careful, and he asked me to be more careful too, I shouldn't have sent her out alone, he said. We were both right. There were successes too. A woman who is a published fiction writer and expert enviro activist that lives in the community signed on. She had been waiting for us to come. A gentleman from Utah, who spoke only Spanish, engaged me as I spoke to him in his native tongue "Una plant nuclear...". He encouraged me to reamp my attempts at proficient Spanish conversation, told me "Escuchas muy bien, tu puedes hablar, necesitas practicar, es todo" You listen well, you can speak, you only need to practice more. And I felt like I had been given the key, the language I have been hiding could be my greatest tool. The reason I have always worked on learning Spanish suddenly became clear: I need it for this work. I will start studying again today. I will never forget that first lesson though. Watching that sweet girl melt as a result of my lack of foresight. I should have known better, and the only way to do that is to mess up. But on that particular point I will not mess up again. Ever.