Since landing in North Carolina in 2013, Mic has been winding their way through the weeds of social activism, political development, and community organizing. Committed to the work of tearing down illegitimate racial, gender, and economic hierarchies, they seek to explore new (and old) ways of being in relationship with one another and the larger living world. Mic envisions Firestorm as a place to cultivate and unleash the kind of radical imagination needed to transform systems of oppression and build communities rooted in social justice and ecological sustainability. They like books on plants, politics, and philosophy, and recently started reading fiction again. They do event coordination for our community room and can be reached at email@example.com.
This is the first book I read after the 2016 general election. I hadn't known who Octavia Butler was before then. I still remember exactly where I was standing when I read the first pages of Lauren Olamina's tenacious and uncompromising survival. So many people in my life had been protesting, marching, sitting in, shutting down, and organizing for a world free of oppression, and that project had just been dealt a huge blow. It felt like the start of an especially horrific turn, and Octavia Butler had seen it all coming in 1993. And through the life and words of Lauren Oalmania was telling us what we could do about it. Or, perhaps more accurately, what we might have to do about it, much like Lauren is forced to throughout the story. A bleak depiction of our future that feels alarmingly close to our present, it is only through Laurens creativity, innovation, and interpretation of god that we receive any relief from the bleak and violent world crumbling around her. I'm forever grateful to Octavia for warning of what might come and for offering this visionary resource in how we might adapt to survive.