There was a time when the Real Change logo consisted of the bread and rose. My artistic rendering, it must be said, did not help the metaphor. Even I called it the "toast and tulip." As an image, it failed to translate. We abandoned the logo in around 2003 for our present overlapping arrows. These represent, albeit abstractly, community in action, forces in motion, and the point at which these meet: the dynamic crossroads of change.
But the symbol of the bread and rose remain forever relevant. The 1912 Lawrence Textile Strike of 1912, an epic tale unto itself, produced a song and a movement that gave us the 40-hour work week.
As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!
As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.
As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.
The strike brought together immigrants of different languages, craft unions, and the well-to-do of the eastern seaboard, who were appalled by the conditions of work and the brutality of power toward the poor and vulnerable. The naked class war of modern industrial society was brought fully into the open, and resistance crossed boundaries of race, culture, and class to form a powerful counterforce to exploitation and oppression.
Much of the organizing focused on the sharing of food and culture. Relationships were built. Power was challenged. People came to each other's mutual aid. They found resources within themselves and in community that allowed them to participate in astonishing acts of sacrifice and courage.
This, one of the inspirational high points of the labor movement, lives on forever as a moving example of how love, justice, and power aligned for social transformation.
While this past Saturday's Unity Forum was not the Lawrence Textile Strike, it was a beginning. And without beginnings, nothing happens.
The Unity Forum, generously hosted by the Seattle University School of Law, convened around 100 people spanning Seattle's environmental movement, communities of color, and poor people's activists to share perspectives, have lunch and engage in dialogue.
Real Change convened the gathering in partnership with the Seattle Chapter of the Sierra Club, the United African Public Affairs Committee, and Nickelsville. Co-sponsors included a short list of primary allies like the Vietnamese Leadership Institute, the Minority Executive Director's Coalition, UmojaFest 2010, El Centro de la Raza, and the Interfaith Task Force on Homelessness.
Mayor McGinn was there to open. He spoke from the heart regarding our uncertain future and the dire challenges that we face on multiple fronts. We have a common imperative, he said, to organize and seek unity.
I shared a powerful metaphor that came to me through one of our vendors, an African immigrant who would probably prefer to remain relatively anonymous. This friend, in her quietly forceful way that grows out of deep faith, constantly challenges me to reach deeper in the quest for beloved community.
"When you are making a stew," she explained, "you must allow the fat to remain. As the stew simmers, fat rises to the top. The fat is what gives the stew its richness and sustenance.
This must be stirred back in to make the community strong, and not skimmed from the top to benefit a few. To skim the fat is to ruin the stew."
We heard from panelists, engaged in question and answer, and broke into afternoon sessions over lunch based upon the past, present, and future of movement building in Seattle.
"What does our past experience with building bridges across class, race, and issue boundaries teach us about how to move forward most effectively?"
"What are the most pressing issues that face your community right now? What are the obstacles to change? How can these be overcome?"
"Imagine it is 2014, and the past four years have been packed with wins for your communities. What are the gains that have been made that could not have been accomplished on your own?"
The groups were randomly assigned as people arrived, and more or less evenly distributed for brief afternoon discussions involving 20-30 people.
The conversations were marked by what MLK once termed "the fierce urgency of now." Everyone there, to one extent or another, was bowled over by the sheer necessity of what was being undertaken.
The clear takeaway for all was that this beginning, in all of its imperfection, hopeful na