Breaking Barriers...from the couch?
How we doing fam? We’re rolling out of another week of quarantine and social distancing, another week of COVID-19 updates on every communication channel, another organization regurgitating the same SBA “support” options with optimistic language and virtual brainstorming invites. These challenges are all a privilege to experience from my home while service industry and health workers bear the weight of public health dysfunction and our present challenges exacerbate wounds of systemic oppression. Don’t worry, this won’t be a full-on cynical post; we do need to maintain space for our full experience, not just the positive moments. Deep breaths.
Realities are still shifting. Not a week before mandated travel bans I was planning for very different things, exciting opportunities and projects. Everyone has been mourning their own personal losses and what-ifs; we’re not alone with our individual grief, though it may be unique. As all energy has been redirected to pivot and adjust, I wanted to share thoughts prepared initially for the Orvis Guide Rendezvous. These words have been sitting in my phone and became a reminder for a while of what this summer could have been; rather than allowing their weight to pull me back to a place of grief, I figured it would be best to give them some air and keep moving:
I couldn’t believe the call I had with colleagues Maggie and Chrissy at Orvis. It took me by surprise like a heavy trout does when you’re SURE you’ve hit bottom.
Just over one year ago, I thought I had struck bottom. I felt like meetings on the river were just not reflective of the love and passion we all hold for the sport, maybe a joy we shared with our closest fishing buddies, less often with a new face on home waters or a face that didn’t look like ours. I felt like the community groups, while they offered promise of nerdy fun talking fish and bugs, maybe weren’t as reflective of a welcoming and supportive environment for everyone.
I’m not the only one to think this: those holding more minority in personal identity and less privilege than I do are out there with questions, concerns, and creating space for each other. Look to groups like Brown Folks Fishing, Brown Girl Outdoor World, Latino Outdoors, Outdoor Afro, LGBT Outdoors, Melanin Base Camp, Unlikely Hikers — they exist because there wasn’t space in the cultural majority. Some may have put out the “everyone welcome” mat, but the room inside didn’t match the message.
That’s why I feel a little awkward here (that, and my general preference for behind the curtain work): we have so much more to do. And we all have a role to play.
It’s not enough for communities to operate outside of each other. We all need to work towards more inclusive and accessible riverbanks, and regardless of your skin color, sexual orientation, gender identity, and familiarity with discussions of equity and white supremacy: the work needs to be a part of your life. If we want to protect the beautiful living things we interact with, the incredible spaces we visit, we need to embrace anyone with an interest and passion, and recognize we all have something to learn from each other, and reflect on why we haven’t thought about this before. And we have to understand and embrace ourselves to do this work.
Confluence Collective started as a way to celebrate and learn, together. I’ve learned more than I’ve shared, laughed more than I’ve cried, guided more than I’ve fished, been more uncomfortable and never in my life felt more whole. The beautiful people this sport brings together cannot be overlooked, cast aside, or ranked in importance based on who they are — whether we “mean to” or not. We’ve got to embrace our whole selves — including the parts we don’t like or think about, or didn’t ask to have — and recognize everyone is out there trying to do the same — and we can get farther if we help each other.
I’m beyond privileged to have space here, share this space with you, but also to hold conversation and relationships with anglers who have a harder time than me and STILL show up for each other and still give their emotional, mental, and physical labor to goals of intersectional inclusion and access. I’m humbled, and knowing each collaborator I’ve worked with, each angler who has entertained conversation around some of the toughest stuff and worked through so much to continue growth — each person who says yes to this work deserves this kind of recognition [and those providing said recognition] as it is so needed and often a difficult ask.
We owe it to ourselves to embrace our full selves and our lives. We owe it to our rivers to share their banks with all who cherish life through water. We owe it to each other to work together. This isn’t easy, we need to support each other. If you’re ready to pick up your weight, I’m here to help lift. Let’s talk.
These sentiments remain true. Prepared for a room of lodge and cabin owners, industry perspectives and guides, speaking on the concept of systemic oppression would undoubtedly leave some pondering how this had anything to do with them, wondering “why does race have to be part of this?” or maintaining fishing + hunting as an escape from these very discussions. “Fish don’t discriminate, besides fly selection” — but we do, especially if we disassociate from conversations around cultural growth, inclusion and the privilege that shapes our lives, passively or otherwise.
When someone suggests our place in dialogue where we haven’t considered it in the past, it’s easy to brush aside and never feel the effects. This in itself is a confirmation of our privilege within systems of oppression: many white people can operate without strangers questioning or invalidating us with the frequency those holding minority identities experience, grow accustomed to, and establish meaning within. When we do face these challenges, we can chock it up to being misunderstood, or say “what’s their problem?” — and move on. I ask you to pause, and consider role of identity and privilege in dictating your response [or lack thereof].
Fly fishing offers an opportunity to balance challenges with healing, growth with approachable and familiar venue. From the start, as we have our first interactions with gear and make fly selections, we start participating in a culture and community. We take a step towards a future of learning and developing, speaking technically and personally. While so many reserve fly fishing for “me time” I hope we all can take a step further towards a balance of familiar appreciation and pushing lines of inquiry.
So as I sit here and write from the comfort of my couch, I am taking on the potential of a new balance with hope and optimism. For each wave of anxiety and uncertainty, I have a thousand and one things to be grateful for, to ground me. For every dead-ended conversation and unanswered email, I have others joining hands [metaphorically speaking of course these days] and lifting the load. For every insecurity of holding space in this work, I have partners holding me up and keeping the line of inquiry going. While the ways we had previously defined successes and progress may be upended, there are discoveries and innovations to be made, and made in the spirit of mutual exchange and growth. At the very least, we can ask questions.
We are growing in different and unexpected ways these days, and there’s incredible opportunity to parse internal identity and emotion as they break through the dam of our “normal” routines cast aside. I hope we all can give space to the bright and dark moments we are experiencing, and use them as paths of learning. We simply don’t have the choice to block out inequalities as black and brown bodies fall to COVID-19 with more frequency than white, as acts of racially-based aggression are made against Asian American and international populations without connection to fact or empathy, and as food scarcity and access to healthcare become more tangible to those who have been guarded by privilege in the past…and so many other realities playing out. These hold true to our riverbanks, where we still see more cisgendered white men on the water with us or represented by industry. We have an opportunity ahead of us in determining what role we will play, how we can use our energies towards something better, and taking small steps in that direction with intention and purpose. This work is challenging, and incredibly personal; if we don’t support ourselves to be kindly critical and introspective, how can we expect to operate in a greater society where our actions and words put these demands on others?
So what CAN we do when everything seems…messy?
We can choose who we become, and accept agency in this determination
We can breathe, and focus on the moment at hand
We can balance our statements of gratitude and brightness and also pause long enough to listen/expand our understanding of those who may not share them, and associated challenges
And while bigger questions form and evolve, we’ll have fishing — in memory or in proximity. We’ll have the song of the water. We’ll have lungs full of air and mind cleared to put up our best fight, grappling with questions few are courageous enough to push. I ask you to be brave and bold in your exploration. And I ask you to look beyond yourself for answers.
My hope is that we all see our challenges as learning opportunities, and find mental space through striking new balances to do the work for ourselves. I know community can be our salve and nourishment as we find new answers to old challenges, more inclusively this time around.
Virtual hugs to all, maybe we can tie flies kind-of-together sometime soon.
— Bri