Challenge: Invite more torch bearers to join this movement

I grew up on Air Force bases, crisscrossing this country like a new pair of shoelaces on an old pair of shoes – Tacoma, Washington; Albuquerque, New Mexico; Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, and Hampton, Virginia, just to name a few.

No matter where we were in the world, whenever we went somewhere on a base, my father, a Flight Line Instructor and a gregarious man who never met a stranger, would strike up a conversation with a young airman, and before you knew it the young man was coming home with us for dinner. 

It used to drive me insane. One moment I am minding my own business in the commissary, trying to convince my dad to deviate from my mom’s stringent shopping list, to avoid the sensible oatmeal in exchange for the latest sugary cereal with coveted prizes swaddled somewhere, covertly, between the middle and the bottom of the box. Salivating, I could practically imagine the decadence my deprived taste buds would experience the following morning. The next moment, Dad, with his brown eagle eyes and easy inviting smile, was adding 25 to 45 minutes to our “quick” shopping trip because some guy was homesick, and he knew my mom would make room for this stranger at our dinner table.

Not to be outdone, my mom, who was raised with five siblings and used to a full table, had “one of those faces.” There wasn’t a stranger within a 10-mile radius of our home who did not know they were welcome. She organized lavish potluck block parties, Spades tournaments, cocktail parties, and turned our living room into a juke joint nearly every weekend with the deftness of a professional event promoter. Our home was always the place to be and was filled with warmth, kids playing “Freeze Tag” well past dusk in our backyard, and laughter drifting out of every window.

We were also a refuge for the wayward, the broken, the putout and the confused. It was not uncommon to find a battered wife on our couch and her kids sleeping soundly on our living room floor when we woke up in the morning. Or, someone who had fallen on hard times who just needed a place to stay for a few weeks, outside working on some old engine with my dad.  

Growing up this way, we built a network of sorts. A vast group of people with common goals and  dreams; raising a family, having a good time, caring for one another. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the preamble to the way I would later live my life

Currently, the home I purchased with my husband is used as a community meeting place, named “Justice House” by a friend. We host a weekly pancake and waffle breakfast (from scratch) where we offer fair trade, organic coffee and open our home to our neighbors, friends and strangers to share it with us. Organizations that do not have a board room or space for meetings rent our home for free. The only catch is that their work must have a justice focus. 

We have hosted meetings on fairness, just  transition for our friends living with the coal companies in their communities, voter empowerment strategies, and #blacklivesmatter. We have hosted neighborhood association meetings, community potlucks, and this month we will host a 24-hour event called “24 Hours of Justice” in which we  will rally our friends and community members through documentary film screenings, karaoke, letter writing campaigns, skill training sessions, and a freedom song sing-along. My mom thinks we are a little strange, but I tell her that we learned it from her.

My husband and I went on a mission trip to Uganda, Africa, for our honeymoon. For 33 days, we lived with, worked with and loved the city in which we chose to do work. We volunteered with an organization rescuing trafficked young women from their lives of prostitution and poverty, gave them and their children an education, taught them a trade, and helped them earn a living, while restoring their dignity. 

When my husband and I describe KFTC to people we care for, the words “family,” “tribe,” “friends,” and “love” are as significant as the words “activism,” “doers,” “tenacious,” and “community.”

People constantly talked to us about how America was so very rich and they wished they lived where we did. But the longer we stayed, the more we discovered something beautiful. When one person in a village was hurting, everyone hurt. They shared what little they had with their neighbor who was struggling. On hot days, you would find a group of women sitting under a tree sorting and sharing rice together, making sure it was suitable for everyone. I was invited to sit with them once. We sorted the rice by swishing it around in big round bowls, and removed the husk, which was not suitable to eat. During this time we shared stories of our lives, laughed, and sat silent as our hands worked.

When my husband and I describe KFTC to people we care for, the words “family,” “tribe,” “friends” and “love” are as significant as the words “activism,” “doers,” “tenacious” and “community.” Like those women sorting rice, we are all different. We each have our own individual gifts and talents. Yet when we come together for the good of the community, we participate in something so much deeper than drafting a bill or an issue we fight for. We genuinely care about the welfare of our fellow Kentuckians. We dare to believe that things can be better. When some of us are tired and growing weary of fighting, others take on the torch while we rest and catch our breath. We function as a unit to make true change.

Some of you have family and friends who see you do this work, long for community, but are not a part of our family. A new member who is a friend of mine said to me once, “Tanya, I have known you for years and supported the things that you and Christian do in our community, but you have never once asked me to be a member of KFTC.” I was bowled over. I tell EVERYONE about KFTC and the work we do, but do I pointedly ask them to join us?  

What would happen if our friends and family members joined us in this work? We would create sustainability and longevity for our organization. Neighbors and friends would have the skills to lobby their representatives and hold them to high standards. We would be more effective in removing the stalemates and impasses we have with certain legislators on certain issues through people power. More of our members would be ready to run for office, win, and advance our platform.

I challenge you to try it. Invite some friends to your house. Use some of the videos we have at our disposal such as the beautiful 30th anniversary documentary “I Was There.” Or, talk from the heart about how an issue affects you, your friends or neighbors. Then, invite them to join us in this work. We need more torch bearers to grow this movement.