I'm raising $̶7̶2̶0̶ $1,000 for Stick Talk in honor of my birthday (December 24)!
Stick Talk provides spaces for young Black and Brown people to gather, heal, learn and be supported. We know that abstinence doesn't work when it comes to sex ed; it also doesn't work when it comes to guns. Stick Talk's Firearm Harm Reduction hubs provide education on gun safety, de-escalation, wound treatment and much more.
There's so much I could say about Stick Talk's work and I often find myself feeling conflicted...
Near the start of the pandemic, I was part of a group of white folks that met regularly via Zoom to talk about our personal practices and commitment to reparations and wealth redistribution. Together, with about 10 of us, we contributed ~$22,000 in seed funding for Stick Talk and set up ongoing personal monthly contributions.
We spent a lot of time talking about all our personal lives, variables and different ways to calculate what ongoing reparations amounts can look like. We also talked a lot about the nonprofit industrial complex, white saviorism, trauma porn, etc. It is gross how much time and energy is spent on providing proof/receipts to donors to show what their money is used for.
On one hand, I get it - We want to get the most bang for our buck and we want to belong to something special that's actually making a difference we can see.
On another hand, I hate it - Can't we just trust that people know what they need best (self-determination) and just give money directly to them? Do we need them to publicly share their trauma and discuss intimacies of their intersecting marginalized identities for us to care?
I have way more questions than I do answers, but I wanted to publicly share a few of the thoughts I've been having the past few years to highlight why supporting Stick Talk is so important to me.
Stick Talk is grassroots and hyper-local. The neighborhood-level incubators create opportunities for culturally responsive political education, skill acquisition, healing and mutual aid. One of the community organizers explained it as a place where young folks (ages 15-27) have places to “laugh, learn, grieve, put their guard down, kick their feet up – and be challenged to be instruments of growth and safety in their families and communities.”
Literal lives are being saved.
After a Stick Talk participant was shot and killed, young people came straight from his funeral to one of the hubs to process and mourn. They shared stories, shed tears, and shared stories about him and ways they will honor his legacy.
Primarily due to word of mouth, the hubs are packed throughout the week. In the past few months, Stick Talk has tried to tell participants to put a pause on inviting their loved ones because they are running out of chairs, benches, and places to sit or stand. Despite this, young people are still showing up and returning. One of them said “I leave here feeling like my soul was fed.”
Stick Talk has demand for expanding their work, both within and beyond Chicago, that exceeds their current capacity. Young people are on waiting lists, local partners are reaching out about the possibility of establishing Firearm Harm Reduction hubs in new neighborhoods, and violence intervention groups in other cities are requesting capacity-building support. I hate knowing they have to turn young people away. I hope that I can celebrate another revolution around the sun by replenishing some of the mutual aid funds Stick Talk uses to materially support participants’ survival and community needs.
Please consider contributing to Stick Talk’s mutual aid fund if you are able, and/or sharing this request with others.
If you're not in a place to donate to Stick Talk’s mutual aid fund, please share this and please follow - icons below.