Big Change Starts Small: A Manifesto, by Ryan Cantor

                  The concept of being an agent for social change is becoming less about broad normative claims speaking to what “we” ought to be doing, and more about the small things I can do to make someone’s day a little better. The equal and opposite reaction to slow violence, I’m beginning to believe, will unfortunately be the slow unraveling of this oppressive system. There is no cure-all to fix all the problems, or the problem—whatever that may be to any given perspective. But social change is about building the ties, the bonds, the fabric that holds our communities together. This is the stuff that will wrap the world in a warm cozy blanket and tell us all it’s going to be okay. The most effective change I know how to produce is to encourage the individuals I encounter to radiate the positive energy outward that they want reflected back onto themselves.

                  A smile or inquisitive conversation can be enough to make someone think that, “yeah, today’s going to be alright.” This simple idea has been a substantial part of what has pushed me through the semesters of learning about deeply entrenched, intangible systems that oppress us all. The community with which I’ve surrounded myself reminds me every day that we’re doing the best we can to keep cozy despite the scary-ass world out there. As more and more of us are being thoughtful with our words and considerate of other perspectives, there’s a good chance that everything is going to be as okay as we can make it. This is why I’m committing myself, more and more, to seek ways to create community space to cultivate each other's positive vibes.

                  Eureka Police Chief, Andy Mills, visited my photojournalism class the other day and told us a symbolic story about how “big ships are hard to turn,” his big ship being the authoritarian ideals of the police department he had inherited. “An oil tanker can’t just change course on a dime,” neither can this hot mess of a neoliberal shi[p]show we’re in. The more of us little tugboats out there pushing that big ol’ oil tanker in a different direction, however, the faster we’ll start to effectuate the structural changes we want to see. I digress to broad claims—but it’s a cute metaphor nonetheless. Chief Mills’ story makes sense to me, especially in a time when it’s so easy to feel like we’re up against hopeless odds. Sure, it’s hard not to succumb to this hopelessness, but doing so only serves to empower the divisive individualism of the neoliberal machine. Don’t buy it, you’re not alone.  

                  Author Danusha Veronica Goska, compares the powerlessness so many of us feel to her seemingly insignificant act of moving trapped turtles out of the train track she walks to school. A minute gesture to Goska is a life-altering event to the turtle she helps. Like Goska’s acts toward the turtles she encounters, seemingly trivial actions of thoughtfulness can unleash an avalanche of niceties. Classmate and friend, Sam Weeks, recently introduced me to the term “snowflake.” Not only a racial slur, but used in this context to describe us delicate environmental types. Well friends, Jeff Ensworth, another brilliant Environmental Studies mind, reminds us what happens when enough snowflakes accumulate: an avalanche of paradigm-shifting proportions.  

                  In the years before I made my way to HSU I had the privilege of spending many of my working days in social environments (i.e. coffee shops, restaurants, and bars) without appreciating the opportunity I had every day to be the change I want to see. I resented my service jobs until I really stepped back to examine just what an opportunity to be of service to my community that I had, until recently, taken entirely for granted. I see now the more people I encounter, the greater the opportunities I have to catalyze the change I’m always deflecting to the ubiquitous “we.” I will write letters to my representatives, and march with, and for the people I love, and I will strive to be a compassionate conduit in my post-graduation endeavors.

                  Drew Dellinger, teacher, activist and author featured in the film, Occupy Love, says that “if there wasn’t so much love, there wouldn’t be so much pain.” A perplexing reminder that it’s precisely because I love so much that I am so deeply affected by the all the bad shit that happens in the world. All I can do is my very best to bring together similarly-minded forces to push this hot-mess-express onto a track that will no longer be derailed by neoliberal individualism. Instead, to end on a nice, broad, idealistic claim; we will grow stronger through community, conversation, and the coalescence of our empowered energies. I will acknowledge and confront the invisible oppressors in my every day, and do the best I can to let as many people as I encounter know that they are loved.