The Art of Resistance

Finding creative ways to resist in our daily lives

Over the weekend, I binge-watched Genius: MLK/X. A long-time student of the two iconic Civil Rights leaders, I found the anthology drama series surprisingly accurate. I hope it helps those who have not been devout Civil Rights Movement students understand the history and early beginning of the Movement better.

In particular, the series offers rare insights into the inner circles of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. One of the figures introduced as part of Dr. King's circle is Baynard Rustin. It's said that there was no lonelier man in Washington, D.C., on the morning of the 1963 March on Washington than Rustin, the organizing genius of the march. Criticism and discrimination over his sexuality led Rustin to have a more background role in the Civil Rights Movement. He never wanted his sexuality to impede the Movement, which often left him in the shadows, including that day of the March.

Still, Rustin found a meaningful means of resistance to him, designing and orchestrating the program for the largest demonstration for human rights in U.S. history. He encouraged others to do the same saying, "There are three ways in which one can deal with an injustice. (a) One can accept it without protest. (b) One can seek to avoid it. (c) One can resist the injustice non-violently. To accept it is to perpetuate it."

As we celebrate Black History and Futures Month under the theme African Americans and the Arts, I find myself coming back to Rustin's work and his words. There was an art to the way he orchestrated the March on Washington from behind the scenes. And, his words echo Rev. Howard Thurman's teachings on the art of resistance, which have shaped my life. While it may not be one of the classical forms of visual, literary, or performing arts, for Black people, resistance requires a similar artistic combination of inspiration, illumination, and creation. And like art, resistance is deeply personal.

Resistance starts in the mind.

When I first came across the work of Thurman it was life changing. I was inspired to learn that Martin Luther King, Jr. studied and traveled with his book, Jesus and the Disinherited. As I've learned more about those who traveled in Dr. King's circle, including Rustin, I see the imprint that Thurman's book left on them. I too have been imprinted. The book was the capstone of years of struggle and study for me.?The book also became an inspiration for my book, The Joy of the Disinherited.

As a child, I believed that Black people were oddly placed in the world. I learned this through the unspoken racial codes of the South that my elders subtly modeled. Juxtaposed to this understanding of my odd place in the world was a pervasive belief that God loves Black people and has not forsaken us. This belief was passed down by my ancestors, nurtured by my elders, and instilled in me.

Have you tried consciously holding two opposing beliefs? Believing you are God’s beloved on the one hand and the other that he has placed you unjustly in the world. You can’t hold onto both beliefs for long. Once you become aware of the contradictory nature of your beliefs and perhaps their manifestation in your day-to-day, the discomfort becomes unbearable. The cognitive dissonance eventually demands that something give. Resolution comes by way of harmonizing the two beliefs so that they aren't contradictory. Or, by abandoning one.?

Yet, the road to resolution for Black people' ain't no crystal stair.' The abandonment of one belief for another might resolve the dissonance in our minds, but it won't heal the ache in our hearts. I know this first hand. The opposing beliefs I held about myself as a Black man trying to live a dignified life in a world determined to strip me of my dignity required a delicate examination of my mind. It required what Thurman called a "surgical examination of the psyche." A parsing of misbelief from the truth with the precision of a sculptor so that I could emerge capable of resistance.

Jesus and the Disinherited provided the necessary framework for me to intellectually, psychologically, and spiritually understand the impact of oppression on the minds and bodies of the oppressed.

Psychologically speaking, the first two paths offer a temporal means of dealing with oppression. In some instances, they are the precursor to cognitive dissonance. By all appearances – be it through imitation or avoidance – you're managing but mental anguish lays just beneath the surface. For the disinherited, resistance, then, is the art of harmonizing our disparate beliefs.

Resistance comes in many forms.

Rustin once said, "We need in every community a group of angelic troublemakers." I take heart in knowing the impact Rustin had from the sidelines.

While I am not one to always take to the streets in protest, I have found my means of resistance in the work I do to advance health equity. That looks like the refusal to accept health disparities as a norm and challenging and rebuilding systems to create health equity.?

For others, it may be as simple as a choice of dress, hairstyle, or where they spend their money that funnels the healing power of protest. All of us take on some form of resistance whether it is in our day-to-day work or within the personal decisions that we make.??

This Black History and Futures month, let us celebrate our artists. In times of trouble, a painting, a song, a dance, or a story can remind us of our humanity. Artistic expressions remind us that we are more than our daily grind, more than our ailments, and more than the cause we fight for. And, let us celebrate our angelic troublemakers, those who find creative ways to resist within their chosen professions.?