Summer 2013 - Oregon State Library: State Employee Information ...

the area’s drinking water source. Her children are younger
than mine.
It turns out there are lots of climate champions.
So far, 60,000 have signed on to block the Keystone pipeline.
Texas ranchers are rolling up their sleeves, irate that foreign
corporations can force oil pipelines onto their private property.
Indigenous rights groups help lead the fight against
countless “dirty energy” projects in their communities. Even
the conflict-averse Sierra Club, underscoring the urgency of
global warming, lifted its 120-year ban on civil disobedience
so top leaders could lock themselves to President Obama’s
front gate to demand climate recovery.
Student activists, more wary now of arrest than their
1960s and ’70s counterparts, aren’t rushing to that front line
in droves. But by April, 323 campus groups had piled onto
the fossil-fuel divestment campaign—triple the number since
January.
I asked some UO students what political changes are
necessary to create the future they want. Joseph, an African
American student who declined to give his last name, responded,
“We need complete political reform. This country is
built on genocide, rape, and murder. The foundations are rotten.
We need to change politics from the ground up because
the political system itself is a roadblock to justice.” A woman,
describing herself as “indigenous to the Oregon territory,”
powerfully expressed similar feelings during the question
period following West’s speech. She tearfully grieved the “subordination
of the red people and their land and their babies.
Our people were slaughtered and we still carry a lot of those
burdens and that pain.” She thanked West for “speaking for
the red race, because we are left out.”
When West climbed down from the stage and embraced
her, the entire audience—all 600 of us—stood, applauding
loudly. I wasn’t the only one wiping my eyes.
Something had happened. We listened, together, to her
grief. And when everyone in that room rose, it was an affirmation
of what I’d hungered for: authentic dialogue about the
things that matter. Health for our land. Health for our people.
A say in how things go.
The confluence of the social justice and climate recovery
movements is growing—and fast. Will it unite “the 99 percent”
enough to avoid the frightening future now predicted
for my children? I don’t know. I desperately hope so.
April 28, 2013
My husband and I sign up to block the Keystone pipeline.
I’m unsure what this will involve, exactly. My hope is to
toe the legal line, then return home to care for my children.
But as a last resort, I’ll join the long line of adults
through time who have placed their bodies between children
and imminent harm. I’ll stay put until that threat is
removed—or until somebody hauls me away.
Mary DeMocker ’92, a freelance writer and harp instructor
occupies her front lawn with interactive art installations.
She blogs about the journey from worrier to warrior at
climatemom.com.
The author and her children
in their front yard, April 2013.
The latest in a series of "yard
art" installations, a large
facsimile of a pipeline and oil
spill draws attention to their
campaign urging Obama to
deny Keystone's permit. Dozens
of postcards—hand-drawn by
the children, addressed to the
president, and prestamped—
were offered to passersby to fill
out and mail in a kid-decorated,
floral mailbox. Photo by
Michael Arellano
THE MAGAZINE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OREGON 43