Fostering Empathy: A Social Justice Journey [Working Title, First Draft]

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.”

Intended Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette