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.”
Target Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette
Word Count: 1,445
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