Working in the mail center has its pluses and minuses, but one of the benefits is constant contact with the various newspapers and magazines that students order to be delivered to them on a weekly basis. Sometimes, if the student for whom these publications are destined has since graduated, we the employees get to take them home with us to read. It is impossible to forward magazines and they would otherwise be thrown in a recycle bin--so hey, why not?
A couple of weeks ago, the cover of one of these magazines happened to catch my eye and prompted me to crack it open and read further. That week's Time Magazine was printed in two different versions, each with a picture of a same-sex couple kissing and words overlaid in yellow, block print reading: "Gay Marriage Already Won." The article came out the week that the Supreme Court began to hear oral arguments for the Prop 8 and DOMA cases, and there was a clear reference to these events. I was intrigued to read further, eager to see what rationale they would use to defend such a big statement about an issue that still remains highly contested in the United States.
Although David Von Drehle's article is more of a long-form feature than a narrative piece, he employs gay peoples' experiences to further his point and put a human face to this broad issue which he tackles head-on. I think it is a great example of how the different genres of journalism can intersect to create something truly great. The piece includes history, politics, narrative, and on-site reporting, which Von Drehle then sews together to create a cohesive article. Most importantly, he uses all of this information to defend his bold claim on the front of the issue.
This article caught my eye right from the beginning and I thought it was a really good read. I hope you enjoy it as well and I look forward to discussing it in class!
Lillie
Wolff teeters with full arms and makes her way into St. Basil's
Catholic Church in South Haven, Mich—a balancing act of posters,
papers, buttons, and baked goods. The pastries are from a local
bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is made from certified organic
lemons. She enters a large, empty room filled six rows deep with
chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that hangs high in the back of
the room and sets everything down. She looks around, takes a breath,
and begins to set up.
Tonight
she is representing Welcoming Michigan, a foundation that focuses on
migrant worker outreach in the rural Southwest Michigan community;
but she is not here to educate immigrants, she is here to educate
Americans on their role in ending xenophobia and discrimination. Her
only prior advertisement comes from word of mouth, from church groups
like the ones at St. Basil's, and from the local South Haven
newspaper. The room slowly fills with an elderly, Anglo crowd and
Lillie welcomes them, smiles and keeps breathing. People are
watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so she clears
the air.
“Just
to let you all know before I begin, I'm okay,” she says as she
smiles nervously, scanning the crowd.
Lille
was only 14 when her hair began to fall out. She remembers it falling
out in clumps until she “didn't have enough left to have a full
head of hair.” It was the summer before high school when she had to
shave it all off and she covered her head with wigs until she was a
senior. She remembers facing it bravely, “stoically” as she puts
it, but below the surface she struggled
with the potential of getting judged for being different.
Alopecia
is an autoimmune disease that attacks Lillie's hair follicles and
causes her hair to fall out at random, leaving her patchy. Although
purely cosmetic, it may have left more marks on her internally then
externally.
“I
think my Alopecia has led me to understand what it's like to be
different, outside the parameters of what mainstream wants to say is
acceptable or in the in-group,” she said.
Lillie
is an artist, an advocate, and an instructor. She moves about busily
in a flowing black dress, dangling earnings that she hand-crafted,
her piercing blue eyes fixed on the crowd that shuffles out of the
room at St. Basil's.
“Well...I
think that went pretty well,” she says with a big smile.
Events
like these are the cornerstone of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes,
she shows a short documentary about the migrant farm work situation
in Van Buren County and fields discussion questions. Some make
statements rather than ask questions, some are kind and others are
not, but Lillie keeps cool under the pressure. The event ends and
Lillie pours herself a glass of organic lemonade.
Lillie
believes in the power of nature. It was during a college orientation
expedition in the wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come
back. It started growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip
back though a college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the
same smile, staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair
caressing her shoulders.
“I
like to think that it was nature,” said Lillie who for years tried
a slew of herbal supplements and healing massages, believing with all
her might that she had the power to bring her hair back. She now
likes to believe that all she needed to do is to let go.
Although
her hair began to fall out once again when she was 25 and has not
since returned, Lillie has found peace with her condition. Her
experience with prejudice has been formative and she channels her
can-do attitude into her work, advocating for those at the margins of
society.
“She
has a strong sense of justice and empathy for folks,” said Chris
Moore, Lillie's partner of three years. He
remembers early on in their relationship when a man on a bicycle
approached her after a concert at the Arcadia Creek Festival Place
and harassed her about her Allopecia, taking note of her difference.
It was the first time he had ever had to witness the questioning that
Lillie undergoes frequently.
Since
then, he has experienced numerous uncomfortable encounters with
curious strangers who are unafraid to approach her and ask about her
condition. While both Lillie and Chris acknowledged that most people
are kind and come from a place of concern, there were power dynamics
related to who approached her and what they asked.
“I
have this theory that it actually has a lot to do with race,” said
Lillie who noted that her most abrasive encounters had been with
white people seeking to 'quell their curiosity'. “People of color
either don't say anything or they say something really nice. They
trust that I'm fine and they affirm me. I think that has to do with
the way people of color are treated in our society.”
Chris
believes that Lillie's daily experiences have been key to her
involvement with social justice work. Her work with migrant farm
workers is just one of the ways she is reaching out to make a
difference in the lives of “people who everyday have to expend
energy to assure people that they're human.”
During
a typical workweek, Lillie works over 40 hours doing desk-work for
Welcoming Michigan in addition to the time she spends out in the
field putting on events like the one in South Haven. And this is only
her day gig. She has recently become involved in the ERAC/CE
(Eliminating
Racism and Claiming/Celebrating Equality)movement
which is seeking to eliminate racism in Kalamazoo and she
participates in numerous events throughout the city.
But
it is at Lillie's night job that she finds solace and tranquility.
Every Wednesday and Thursday she instructs classes at the Sangha Yoga
Studio in downtown Kalamazoo. She found yoga ten years ago, after
returning from studying abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's
self-driven attitude has worn her out on more than one occasion, but
she recalls feeling particularly
defeated upon her arrival home after 9 months.
“I
came back and basically I was a hot mess,” said Lillie, whose
father recommended she take up yoga. During the last 10 years, a lot
has changed for her but yoga has remained her constant.
Born
in New York and raised in Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the
Big Apple after graduation from college and began to make connections
with nonprofits in the city. Later, she moved back up to Traverse
City and founded an ESL Program for migrant farm workers before
moving down to Kalamazoo and furthering her work within the migrant
worker community.
She
has been to India to study yoga, back to Ecuador twice, from coast to
coast of the United States, but she cannot imagine being anywhere but
in Kalamazoo.
“She
came to Kalamazoo to reinvent herself,” said Chris who reminisced
about the Lillie he met three years ago, just getting her start again
in the city she had left after her graduation from Kalamazoo College
in 2004. She found stability in her job teaching yoga, but she found
her passion engaging in race work in the community.
“I
think that the anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest
Michigan is unlike anything happening in any other part of the
world,” she says. “There's so much potential here. There's so
much we can do here.”
She
puts emphasis on the word “we,” recalling times when she felt
like she could set out to singlehandedly save the world and nearly
got crushed by the pressure.
“I
can't not do this,” she says passionately. “But, you can't be
alone in this work. It's not sustainable or healthy.”
She
shifts her eyes upward and to the left and runs her hand across her
scalp and remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City
where she worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community.
She remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the
neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.
But
ultimately Lillie keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and
organizing, advocating for leaders to work together for change in the
community.
“My
liberation is tied up in your liberation” Lillie says and she
smirks. “Everyone has historically thought that their fight is the
good fight, but people shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear.
It's all connected; it doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a
both-and.”
The minute that I picked up The
Events of October, I could not
put it down. I borrowed a copy of the novel from a friend this past
Saturday afternoon and cracked it open with the intention of just
reading the first chapter. Three hours later, I found myself still
sitting in the same spot with my face in the middle of the book. I
know that my instant interest has a lot to do with me being a part of
this college community and the sense of shock I felt at the prospect
of a tragedy of this magnitude. Having said that, I think that Gail's
powerful ability to tell a story drew me in and sustained me. For me,
the sign of a good writer is the one who can get you to desire to
read more and to want to get to the end of the book. In this reading
response, I want to identify and break down the stylistic and
structural strengths of The Events of October that
make it one of the best pieces of creative nonfiction that I have
ever read.
Ample
Context
One
of the first things that I observed when reading this book is the
amount of time that Gail spends setting up the context for the
tragedy that later ensues. Not only does she describe the college
well for someone who has never visited a small, liberal arts college,
but she also does a good job at getting the reader to picture
Maggie's and Neenef's upbringing. In the case of Maggie, the reader
gets a good look at all of the potential she had and which was robbed
from her. In the case of Neenef, the reader gets a glimpse into his
psychological formation and red flags are raised for the reader early
on.
Widespread
Research and Interviewing
Another
thing that stuck me about this book is the sheer amount of
researching and interviewing that Gail did in order to put this book
together. I cannot even imagine all of the notebooks and files she
had filled and what a tedious task it would have been to sort through
it all. I think the her book is a testament to the power of ample
researching and the abundance of information appeases all of the
reader's doubts.
Highly
Thought-out Sequencing
Due
to the fact that Gail seems to have had so much material to put into
this book, I admire how she handled the arduous task of putting
everything together. Since being in this class and beginning to write
my own narrative pieces, I have discovered that this is the hardest
part of the process for me. Especially in the sections entitled “The
Endless Night” and “Hold Fast,” she manages to piece together a
narrative using all of her interviews that takes into account nearly
every aspect of those tragic weeks. Whether she divided them through
the use of her own voice or through the simple drawing of lines, the
chapters never read as jumpy to me. I think that she is more fabulous
that ever in this realm and I am going to ask her a lot about it in
class.
I
thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, even though the subject matter
is truly traumatic. I think that Gail puts together a fantastic
example of narrative journalism and I am really looking forward to
our class today so I can ask her for tips, both stylistic and
structural.
I just wanted to check in with some potential story ideas for the final project. At this point, I am still undecided about which topic to go with, but I am going to solidify my choice over the weekend.
Idea 1- For my first idea, I thought about doing an extension of my last article, which was loosely related to farm work. This time around, I would ask Lille for contacts who do work in the South West Michigan farm industry and interview migrant workers who work in the fields. I would hopefully be able to go out for them during a day of work, as well as doing sit-down interviews.
Idea 2- My second idea would be to do a story on the Kalamazoo College arboretum. There is a senior history major who just did extensive research on the history of the arb and I think it would be cool to explore that (how it came into the college's possession, prior historical use, plans for the future). I am going to do more looking into this and see what I find.
Idea 3- My third idea was potentially doing a story about the Henderson Castle. I noticed that Suzanne also had pitched this idea, so I would only do it if she did not take it. After speaking with my boss at the mail center (she's been at the college 30 years and she knows all the business), she said there is a secretary in the theater department who used to own it. She and her husband were K students and they would always go on walks past it and say "we are going to own that someday" and they did! Unfortunately, they lost the property due to economic troubles a few years ago, but I still think the story would be worth exploring as a whole.
I look forward to hearing everyone's ideas in class! See you all on Wednesday!
There are a couple of pieces in the reading for this week that have changed the way that I
think about story writing forever. I feel like these two sections on
“structure” and “quality” were much more helpful to me in my
writing than was Franklin's entire book Writing for
Story.
In the “structure” section, it was a short little piece called
“Narrative Distance” by Jack Hart that really conveyed the
importance of putting the reader in the shoes of the story's
protagonist. Many of the pieces echoed the notion that it is
important to make readers feel sympathy for the main character early
in the story and Hart gives us the tools to do this. In his little
blurb, he essentially rewrites the same sentence three times, but
each time he zooms in the camera a little bit more to make the
perspective more personal. I found that when I read the version of
the sentence that was the most focused, it spoke to me much more than
a disinterested narration from across the room. It was in this moment
that I realized I needed to apply these same techniques to my own
story. I had previously included dialog by Lillie and given
descriptions of her, but I don't think I had truly let them get
inside of her head. I decided to use my interview with her boyfriend,
Chris, to try and figure out more about this person who he himself
called “mysterious.” He told me about a few instances when he has
been with her and people make comments about her hair and the
emotional reactions that she has. This is something that she has
never mentioned to me directly and it was great to get a new
perspective. I incorporated some of Chris' dialog into my revised
version of the story and I hope that it is working to improve the
piece as a whole.
The
piece that stuck out to me the most in the “Building Quality”
section was “Sequencing: Text as Line” by Tom French. Throughout
his entry, he uses writing examples from David Finkel to show what
makes good story writing. I was previously familiar with David
Finkel, since I read his book The
Good Soldiers
(about US soldiers in the Middle East) during the summer before my
sophomore year. To this day, it remains one of my favorite
journalistic books because he makes the scenes come alive to the
reader. Example after example, French showed how Finkel chooses
seemingly small aspects of a larger conflicts and puts them at the
center of his story. He puts value on the small details and believes
that these things can speak volumes when places within a larger
context (a war, an economic downturn, etc). In my revised draft, I
have tried to hone in on descriptiveness in the hopes that the story
comes more to life. Having said that, I think I need to go further
for the final draft. I want to select a scene from her life and
describe it so that the reader can get an idea of where she comes
from and how that has shaped her worldview. I am looking forward to
the last revision and this week's reading have helped me a lot to
re-envision my piece.
Lillie
Wolff teeters with full arms and makes her way into St. Basil's
Catholic Church in South Haven, Mich—a balancing act of posters,
papers, buttons, and baked goods. The pastries are from a local
bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is made from certified organic
lemons. She enters a large, empty room filled six rows deep with
chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that hangs high in the back of
the room and sets everything down. She looks around, takes a breath,
and begins to set up.
Tonight
she is representing Welcoming Michigan, a foundation that focuses on
migrant worker outreach in the rural Southwest Michigan community;
but she is not here to educate immigrants, she is here to educate
Americans on their role in ending xenophobia and discrimination.
Her
only prior advertisement comes from word of mouth, from church groups
like the ones at St. Basil's, and from the local South Haven
newspaper. The room slowly fills with an elderly, Anglo crowd and
Lillie welcomes them, smiles and keeps breathing. People are
watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so she clears
the air.
“Just
to let you all know before I begin, I'm okay,” she says as she
smiles nervously, scanning the crowd.
Lille
was only 14 when her hair began to fall out. She remembers it falling
out in clumps until she “didn't have enough left to have a full
head of hair.” It was the summer before high school when she had to
shave it all off and she covered her head with wigs until she was a
senior. She remembers facing it bravely, “stoically” as she puts
it, but below the surface she struggled with the
potential of getting judged for being different.
Alopecia
is an autoimmune disease that attacks Lillie's hair follicles and
causes her hair to fall out at random, leaving her patchy. Although
purely cosmetic, it may have left more marks on her internally then
externally.
“I
think my Alopecia has led me to understand what it's like to be
different, outside the parameters of what mainstream wants to say is
acceptable or in the in-group.”
Lillie
is an artist, an advocate, and an instructor. She moves about busily
in a flowing black dress, dangling earnings that she hand-crafted,
her piercing blue eyes fixed on the crowd that shuffles out of the
room at St. Basil's.
“Well...I
think that went pretty well,” she says with a big smile.
Events
like these are the cornerstone of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes,
she shows a short documentary about the migrant farm work situation
in Van Buren County and fields discussion questions. Some make
statements rather than ask questions, some are kind and others are
not, but Lillie keeps cool under the pressure. The event ends and
Lillie pours herself a glass of organic lemonade.
Lillie
believes in the power of nature. It was during a college orientation
expedition in the wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come
back. It started growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip
back though a college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the
same smile, staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair
caressing her shoulders.
“I
like to think that it was nature,” said Lillie who for years tried
a slew of herbal supplements and healing massages, believing with all
her might that she had the power to bring her hair back. She now
likes to believe that all she needed to do is to let go.
Although
her hair began to fall out once again when she was 25 and has not
since returned, Lillie is not grieving her loss—she is out in the
community advocating for those at the margins of society.
“She
has a strong sense of justice and empathy for folks,” said Chris
Moore, Lillie's partner of three years. Alongside her, he has
experienced numerous uncomfortable encounters with curious strangers
who are unafraid to approach her and ask about her condition. While
both Lillie and Chris acknowledged that most people are kind and come
from a place of concern, there were power dynamics related to who
approached her and what they asked.
“I
have this theory that it actually has a lot to do with race,” said
Lillie who noted that her most abrasive encounters had been with
white people seeking to 'quell their curiosity'. “People of color
either don't say anything or they say something really nice. They
trust that I'm fine and they affirm me. I think that has to do with
the way people of color are treated in our society.”
Chris
believes that Lillie's daily experiences have been key to her
involvement with social justice work. Her work with migrant farm
workers is just one of the ways she is reaching out to make a
difference in the lives of “people who everyday have to expend
energy to assure people that they're human.”
During
a typical workweek, Lillie works over 40 hours doing desk-work for
Welcoming Michigan in addition to the time she spends out in the
field putting on events like the one in South Haven. And this is only
her day gig. She has recently become involved in the ERAC/CE
(Eliminating
Racism and Claiming/Celebrating Equality) movement
which is seeking to eliminate racism in Kalamazoo and she
participates in numerous events throughout the city.
But
it is at Lillie's night job that she finds solace and tranquility.
Every Wednesday and Thursday she instructs classes at the Sangha Yoga
Studio in downtown Kalamazoo. She found yoga ten years ago, after
returning from studying abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's
self-driven attitude has worn her out on more than one occasion, but
she recalls feeling particularly defeated upon her
arrival home after 9 months.
“I
came back and basically I was a hot mess,” said Lillie, whose
father recommended she take up yoga. During the last 10 years, a lot
has changed for her but yoga has remained her constant.
Born
in New York and raised in Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the
Big Apple after graduation from college and began to make connections
with nonprofits in the city. Later, she moved back up to Traverse
City and founded an ESL Program for migrant farm workers before
moving down to Kalamazoo and furthering her work within the migrant
worker community.
She
has been to India to study yoga, back to Ecuador twice, from coast to
coast of the United States, but she cannot imagine being anywhere but
in Kalamazoo.
“She
came to Kalamazoo to reinvent herself,” said Chris who reminisced
about the Lillie he met three years ago, just getting her start again
in the city she had left after her graduation from Kalamazoo College
in 2004. She found stability in her job teaching yoga, but she found
her passion engaging in race work in the community.
“I
think that the anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest
Michigan is unlike anything happening in any other part of the
world,” she says. “There's so much potential here. There's so
much we can do here.”
She
puts emphasis on the word “we,” recalling times when she felt
like she could set out to singlehandedly save the world and nearly
got crushed by the pressure.
“I
can't not do this,” she says passionately. “But, you can't be
alone in this work. It's not sustainable or healthy.”
She
shifts her eyes upward and to the left and runs her hand across her
scalp and remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City
where she worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community.
She remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the
neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.
But
ultimately Lillie keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and
organizing, advocating for leaders to work together for change in the
community.
“My
liberation is tied up in your liberation” Lillie says and she
smirks. “Everyone has historically thought that their fight is the
good fight, but people shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear.
It's all connected; it doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a
both-and.”
Writing a profile piece in
narrative form is a new endeavor for me and writing this piece was,
in many ways, harder for me than the personal essay. I had previously
written profiles in a features context and I am not sure what the
exact differences are between the two genres. My biggest concern is
that my story comes off too much like a feature and that I did not
paint enough of a picture with my words. When I sat down to write the
story, I found that I had ample material, but I did not know exactly
what direction to go in. I think a lot of this stems from my
subject's context as a prominent figure in the local community. From
the beginning, I knew that my target publication was going to be the
Kalamazoo Gazette, because the story would have more of an impact for
local readers than it would for someone in Colorado, for example.
Lillie was awesome from
the start in complying with me for this project. Although she has a
busy schedule, she let me in and I was able to get a view of a few
different aspects of her life. The day I first approached her, she
invited me that same night to ride with her to an event that she was
doing out in South Haven. I jumped on the opportunity and I am so
glad that I did because I got to truly observe her in her element.
Later, I was able to go to her home and conduct a sit-down interview
and I was able to get much of the background information on her as a
person. She was fascinating to talk to and, as we learned in class, I
saw that she was eager to tell a particular story, so I let go and I
listened. From the beginning, I imagined the story being about her
social justice leadership in the community, but the conversation took
a turn towards her Alopecia hair loss condition and provided for a
sense of depth that I had not previously counted on. I want to be
able to frame her involvement in the community as deeply involved
with her empathy towards those who are looked down upon for their
appearance. I hope I am accomplishing this and I especially want my
title to reflect this. I am currently still looking for a title that
suits the piece and I am hoping to get a few more suggestions in
class.
In the case of this
story, the interviewing definitely came more easily than the story
writing. I am excited to see the direction that this story continues
to move in and I am looking forward to the workshop in class. I want
to be able to polish my piece and write something that does accurate
justice to Lillie and her work.
Lillie Wolffe teeters with full arms
and makes her way into St. Basil's Catholic Church in South Haven,
Mich—a balancing act of posters, papers, buttons, and baked goods.
The pastries are from a local bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is
made from certified organic lemons. She enters a large, empty room
filled six rows deep with chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that
hangs high in the back of the room and sets everything down. She
looks around, takes a breath, and begins to set up.
Tonight she is representing Welcoming
Michigan, a foundation that focuses on migrant worker outreach in the
rural Southwest Michigan community; but she is not here to educate
immigrants, she is here to educate Americans on their role in ending
xenophobia and discrimination. The room slowly fills with an older,
Anglo crowd and Lillie welcomes them and smiles and keeps breathing.
People are watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so
she clears the air.
“Just to let you all know before I
begin, I'm okay,” she says as she smiles nervously, scanning the
crowd.
Lille was only 14 when her hair began
to fall out. She remembers it falling out in clumps until she “didn't
have enough left to have a full head of hair.” It was the summer
before high school when she had to shave it all off and she covered
her head with wigs until she was a senior. She remembers facing it
bravely, “stoically” as she puts it, but below the surface she
struggled with the potential of getting judged for
being different.
Alopecia is an autoimmune disease that
attacks Lillie's hair follicles and causes her hair to fall out at
random, leaving her patchy. Although purely cosmetic, it may have
left more marks on her internally then externally.
“I think my
Alopecia has led me to understand what its like to be different,
outside the paramaters of what mainstream wants to say is acceptable
or in the in-group.”
Lillie is an artist, an advocate, and
an instructor. She moves about busily in a flowing black dress,
dangling earnings that she hand-crafted, her piercing blue eyes fixed
on the crowd who shuffles out of the room at St. Basil's.
“Well...I think that went pretty
well,” she says expressively with a big smile.
Events like these are the cornerstone
of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes, she shows a short documentary
about the migrant farm work situation in Van Buren County and fields
discussion questions. Some make statements rather than ask questions,
some are kind and others are not, but Lillie keeps cool under the
pressure. The event ends and Lillie pours herself a glass of organic
lemonade.
Lillie believes in the power of
nature. It was during a college orientation expedition in the
wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come back. It started
growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip back though a
college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the same smile,
staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair caressing her
shoulders.
“I like to think that it was
nature,” says Lillie who for years tried a slew of herbal
supplements and healing massages, believing with all her might that
she had the power to bring her hair back. She now likes to believe
that all she needed to do is to let go.
Although her hair began to fall out
once again when she was 25 and has not since returned, Lillie is not
grieving her loss—she is out in the community advocating for those
at the margins of society.
During a typical workweek, Lillie
works over 40 hours doing desk-work in addition to the time she
spends out in the field putting on events like the one in South
Haven. And this is only her day gig. She has recently become involved
in the ERACCE movement which is seeking to eliminate racism in
Kalamazoo and she participates in numerous events throughout the
city.
But it is at Lillie's night job that
she finds her true solace. Every Wednesday and Thursday you can find
her at the Sangha Yoga Studio in downtown Kalamazoo instructing
classes. She found yoga ten years ago, after returning from studying
abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's self-driven attitude has worn her
out on more than one occasion, but she recalls feeling particularly
defeated upon her arrival home after 9 months.
“I came back and basically I was a
hot mess,” said Lillie, whose father recommended she take up yoga.
During the last 10 years, a lot has changed for her but yoga has
remained her constant.
Born in New York and raised in
Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the Big Apple after graduation
from college and began to make connections within the social justice
world. Later, she moved back up to Traverse City and founded an ESL
Program for migrant farm workers before moving down to Kalamazoo and
furthering her work within the migrant worker community.
She has been to India to study yoga,
back to Ecuador twice, from coast to coast of the United States, but
she cannot imagine being anywhere but in Kalamazoo.
“I think that the
anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest Michigan is unlike
anything happening in any other part of the world,” she says.
“There's so much potential here. There's so much we can do here.”
She puts emphasis on the
word “we,” recalling times when she felt like she could set out
to singlehandedly save the world and nearly got crushed by the
pressure.
“I can't not do this,”
she says passionately. “But, you can't be alone in this work. It's
not sustainable or healthy.”
She shifts her eyes
upward and to the left and runs her hand across her scalp and
remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City where she
worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community. She
remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the
neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.
But ultimately Lillie
keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and organizing,
advocating for leaders to work together for change in the community.
“My liberation is tied up in your
liberation” Lillie says and she smirks. “Everyone has
historically thought that their fight is the good fight, but people
shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear. It's all connected; it
doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a both-and.”
The readings for this week all
interweave to provide a basic basis for how to report, write, and
polish a narrative journalism profile. While I found some of the
readings more helpful than others, I took a little bit from each of
them in planning my own profile writing process. “Being
There” by Anne Hull really fascinated me because she went in-depth
in her suggestions for how to truly do deep and meaningful reporting.
I had always figured that shadowing the interviewee in their daily
life was key in addition to traditional reporting, but I never took
into consideration the more abstract areas of reportage that she
touches on. For example, she recommends that a reporter should read
the local paper, go to the local church, and to use the language of
the people that you are trying to capture. I think that in all of
these areas she makes very good points, especially in small town
America. If I were doing a story in New York City, perhaps these
details would be irrelevant due to the great amount of diversity—the
New York Times would not necessarily address the concerns of the
people as a whole and no one church would have the majority of people
as parishioners. However, here in Kalamazoo, these points are very
pertinent to reporting and I may have passed them by before reading
Hull's piece. Much of the energy happening in this town proceeds from
the pulpit and the social movements are often linked to a religious
organization. If something is going on that concerns the people of
Kalamazoo, it is likely to be reflected here in the Gazette and in
the church newsletters throughout town. As far as language goes, I
think that Hull's point rings especially true in the profile that I
am trying to piece together right now for this class. I am profiling
Lillie Wolffe with Welcoming Michigan, a migrant outreach group here
in Kalamazoo. The people who are most important to her and who she
deals with on a daily basis use Spanish as their first language; if I
want to interview them or become a part of her world for reporting
purposes, using my Spanish-speaking abilities is key to my story. I
really think that knowing Spanish provides me a level of access that
would otherwise go untapped in a story like this. As I read “Being
There,” I made a lot of connections that I plan to employ in my
writing.
As
Larissa MacFarquhar of The New Yorker says
in her speech: “Every
journalist who is not too stupid or too full of themselves to notice
what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible.
He's a kind of confidence man, preying on people's vanity, ignorance,
or loneliness.” I definitely have felt this way throughout the
process—trying to balance not wanting to intrude and wanting to get
the necessary material. I think that these writing guides are helping
me to cope with this balance and I am excited to see what comes of
this project. I am interested to know what others from class thought
about this dilemma and I look forward to our discussion.
