Today is the last day of one of my classes “Future of Justice: Theoretical Perspectives on Utopia” & today one of my peers led a utopian writing prompt exercise.
These are my reflections:
I want a utopia where we’re honest to each other about our intentions and actions. I want a utopia where we all feel protected, secure and free. I want a utopia where we learn from our pain and suffering instead of valorizing or ignoring it. I want a utopia where I can pursue my passions and where I can rely on others. I want a utopia where we’re taught to manifest abundant realities. I want a utopia where respect, rest and revolution are core.
I can see this utopia presently in my connections with other people. I see this utopia in the hearts of youth and in the spirit of the revolution. I see this utopia in the present in mutual aid, in my breath and in radical possibility. I see this utopia in art, in people’s questions and in deep dialogue with people whose stories remind me of my purpose. I can see this utopia as I raise over $1000 to serve unsheltered members of the greater tempe community.
What we have learned about utopia from the past is that it’s not one size fit all. It’s not a destination, it’s a continual question that helps us expand our empathies, curiosities and possibilities. Every time we see our material conditions improving, we are thankful and show gratitude but we must also be inquisitive and ask, who’s not at our table? Whose voices are being marginalized? Whose struggles can we tackle next together.
In writing this I found out that utopia is not a place but rather a series of ideals and a way to queer temporality. Utopia will be what unites us with generations way removed from us by time. Utopia is birthed in frustration, in honesty and in solidarity. Utopia is personal and communal but not totalitarian. Utopia reminds us not only of our own humanity but our shared humanity and unique identities. Utopia finds us suffering but doesn’t stop there, it leads us to our freedom dreams.
This piece hit me between the eyes like a marble, well placed, and intended. Maybe it’s the disappointment in unfulfilled expectations of joining a new community of dedicated change-agents upon relocating to metro-Phoenix. I have always been of the hood, even when I did not live in the hood. For the first time, I do not feel of it, and I am not in.
Then there’s my own queer experience. Not in my sexuality, but in my commitment to utopian dreams that anticipate progress to tangible idealism. Real ideals that will be manifested through doing the work. We can live openly, honestly, fully, abundantly, without material lack or emotional absence. All at the same time. Alas, there are few true comrades to speak to and none physically close enough to lean on. Yet, there are too many friends for whom utopian dreams are unreasonable fantasy. They and their cynicism seem to be everywhere. Therein is my queerness; in the presence of friends, I am engulfed by a sense of aloneness, conflicted by the confidence of my utopian dreams grounded in ethical correctness and optimism.
The marble widens my eyes. In my freshly embraced elder status, I, too, see “utopia in art, in people’s questions and in deep dialogue with people whose stories remind me of my purpose.” Then I lament because this is the first year in more than 40 that, out of self-concern and caution, and having zero new comrades in still-new surroundings, I am not serving those in need.
Now I see the colors in the marble. They are the utopia – black, red, and green. The people. The struggle. The future. The struggle continues … and I am comforted.