AC Interview | Alajia McKizia
Alajia McKizia (image courtesy of the artist)
We recently sat down with artist, organizer, herbalist-in-training Alajia McKizia to talk about charity, solidarity, and self-determination. The conversation trained its focus on white supremacist ideologies embedded within philanthropy and emergent networks of mutual support that posit community-centric fundraising as a viable response. Listen below or, if you’re on the go, visit Amplify’s Anchor page to listen on your favorite podcasting service.
Transcription
Interviewer: Peter Fankhauser
Interviewee: Alajia McKizia
Date of Interview: April 7th, 2021
List of Acronyms: AM = Alajia McKizia; PF = Peter Fankhauser
[PF] We're here tonight with Alajia McKizia. Thank you for sharing your time with us this evening. Really appreciate it. Would you mind telling us a little bit about yourself and your work.
[AM] Yes, for sure. Thank you for having me. I am a multidisciplinary artist, herbalist in the making, and I grow food. The work that I do, I am a co-founder of HIATUS Healing Collective with a friend, Cait Caughey, and we are a mutual aid project that gives out free kits to BIPOC [Black, Indigenous, and People of Color] folks and allies of BIPOC work. Our kits include things for self-care, herbal remedies, emotional wellness, things like that. I do that and lots of things and in between too.
[PF] That’s amazing. Just for a little bit of context, just to give folks a little bit of context, you and Cait both participated in an Alternate Currents panel discussion we hosted last fall. The title of that was, “The Labor of Care,” and it's up on the Alternate Currents blog. I really encourage everybody to go back and read through the transcript of that discussion, or watch the video, because it was really a wonderful conversation. Sarah Rowe also participated, and Lillie Snortland was our moderator.
During that discussion, the idea of “charity” versus “solidarity” started to emerge in some of what you all were talking about with one another. And the idea that the nonprofit model, or the 501c3 structure is underpinned by charitable giving, giving that travels through various channels of wealth and power, from the top down. And then mutual aid as a counterbalance or counterpoint to that as an example of building solidarity, building community, and building networks outside of more traditional structures of charitable giving. So, I was wondering, picking up on that discussion, if you could talk about, from your perspective, the difference between charity and solidarity, and whether one or the other tends to uphold white supremacist ideologies.
[AM] Yeah, for sure when I was thinking about these questions, I feel like that was something that I never really registered with me, the difference between the two. So, it was fun to think of maybe what I could say about this. To me, I feel like my perspective, when I think of charity, I feel like it's always a word that I've tried to stray away from using, even if I do work at a nonprofit. In other countries, they don't really have like nonprofit organizations. They only call them charities. It just has this feel, like this context behind it, that reminds me of missionary work and things that I don't personally really like. To me, the difference between charity and solidarity, I feel like, charity, a lot of times, has limitations in ways that it can help or assist people to be able to help themselves. And I think solidarity kind of is more of a foundation to give people the autonomy to decide what ways they need to be helped. And I do very much think that charity upholds white supremacy, because it usually is, a lot of charity work, a lot of nonprofit work, is funded by a lot of white organizations. A lot of the work, and the funding, and the resources that people get to do this work, has a lot of limitations to it. It might assist someone, but I feel like it doesn't really give them let's say, the foundation to assist themselves. I feel like that is also white supremacist thinking because it feels like it doesn't allow underserved communities or communities of color to be able to make the decisions for themselves.
I feel like certain foundations and certain white funded money assume that they know what's best for people of color--kind of like they can't, like I'm saying, help themselves, which is racist to me. I feel like people of color, and all of the things that we have contributed to the earth, we are able, and we are capable of taking care of ourselves and our community. But the systems that we live in are very much intended to be obstacles in our way to be able to do that. Everything was intended to be the way it is. It's not just by accident that you know, there's things like redlining and food apartheid all those different factors that go into it. That's what I feel like always comes to mind with charity.
I think solidarity means giving resources or financial support to someone, or to some organization, who is working to help their community without any stipulations or limitations. They can just go in and do the work. I think that's what solidarity is.
Actually, the year before we did HIATUS, Cait and I, we did an herbal CSA together and it was really fun. We had some opportunities to give out one of the CSAs for free to a BIPOC person, but last year, especially just with all the racial tension happening and after James Scurlock was murdered, we fell in the space of knowing we wanted to do more of this work--providing more herbal medicine and plant support to the community--but we just do not want to charge for it. We were like, money is on the table; we just want to be a real support system. And so, I think, it felt at that time innate to just give it out for free and be a community funded thing. So, all of the money that we get donated to HIATUS, we give back out. And so, unless we're commissioned for something we don't pay ourselves. It is really all community funded.
My decision behind that is just like what I'm talking about with 501(c)(3)s. There's just so much limitation and all these different types of things. And it's actually really hard to start a nonprofit, you know what I mean? You have to find a board and do all these things. I felt like the work needed to be done, you know, in the present moment and it just couldn't wait for all of those extra steps. I also think, just like really honestly looking at just being so focused and connected online last year during the beginning of quarantine, that I saw so many cool mutual aid projects from LA and different parts of the country where people were giving out kits or having classes or doing these types of things. I feel like that helped kind of set up the way I wanted to build HIATUS, those examples of how people are having these mutual aid, community supported organizations that don't necessarily have to be built into the institutionalized system. Because I do think a nonprofit is very much an institution, and sometimes people need help right away, you know what I mean? We can't all apply for grants. We can't all do certain things. So, to have support from the community without having to do the whole nonprofit thing, it just felt right. I felt a sense of urgency and and the only way to do it was just to do it, just to catapult into it. That was an innate reasoning, and it wasn't really a choice, it just happened.
There were instances in my life before COVID hit when I was thinking about how we can really build equity. There are things that I want to do, and I know my friend wants to do over here, but we don't have the money to necessarily take from ourselves. I was reading this book called Farming While Black by Leah Penniman and she talks about this African...it's a form of equity that they practice in Africa called a sou-sou. It's a group of women who come together and they put in a little bit of money each month. And then, one of the women gets the money each month, so they kind of rotate that. So, I have been thinking about those ideas from even before, even before COVID made me start thinking about it. I think it's just that not everybody has the means and the funds. And we all know that systemic racism very much exists in a lot of ways, so it's like, even if you did have the means or the funds, you could still maybe not get a loan from the bank, or you could still maybe not get whatever help that you need for what's going on in your life.
So, I think that like, [mutual aid initiatives] are so expansive and they help people in so many ways. That's one positive to the power of the internet and social media, seeing all these campaigns for people to transition or for people who can't pay their rent because even though we're in a pandemic, they're still giving out eviction notices. Things like that. I feel like it helps expand obviously financial stability, but then it also expands empathy and the perspective of how you're seeing people doing in a capitalistic time. For instance, like me, seeing people fundraise for all different types of things, especially to be vulnerable enough to ask for money for rent and to get such a positive experience helps me be able to be more empathetic and open. Knowing that not everyone can work certain jobs, or even if they had a job, it could still not pay for what they need because the cost of living is so high, I feel like it expands financial stability, like I'm saying, but also expands taking your blinders off to like your own privileges, your own financial comfort, and allows you to see that other people are struggling and there's community out there that can help support them. You know, if you have to pay your medical bills, you can maybe get a credit card, but you maybe cannot get a bank loan for something like that. Those are things that people who are going through, real life people are going through all the time because we live in such an unjust system and time.
So, I think that there are mutual aid and grassroots organizations who are helping people get on their feet, even in non-materialistic ways, or not with money. I’ve seen a lot of cool grassroots organizations who work to help educate people about their cultural history. I see different ones who focus on free education for Indigenous children. I've even seen free education for Indigenous non-binary children. Giving people the space and support they need to thrive and be themselves in such a hard time is just really beautiful. I hope that makes sense.
[PF] You've worked in the nonprofit sector here in Omaha for a while. Is there one mode of operating that you see more deeply rooted here?
[AM] I one hundred percent think it is almost fully charity. I know a lot of nonprofits that do a lot of good work, and even ones that I've been involved with that do a lot of good work, but it seems like 95% of them operate from a place of, “We can only source a little bit of our resources to these communities, but then also we're in a way pimping out these communities to get more dollars to fund the mission.” But the mission doesn't really have, like I'm saying, a true foundation or a true end goal for people to be autonomous beings for themselves and to be able to fully support themselves. Most of it is just kind of a small assistance that kind of benefits a goal for the so-called “mission.” I feel like a lot of it is charity work. Also, because Omaha has all these foundations, right, that fund most of our nonprofits, and all of the foundations have stipulations and limitations around ways that you can use money. And even individual donors--I would be out of here not being real or transparent, if I weren't to say that Omaha is a very racist place to be and a lot of individual donors that are white have racist ideologies which cause nonprofits to be really limited in the work that they do and the way they support, let's say queer BIPOC people. So, I think it is mostly charity. Yeah.
[PF] How do you see Black, Brown, Indigenous and Queer people conscripted into these white nonprofit spaces, and then met with the expectation to shape shift in order to fit into those spaces?
[AM] Well a lot of my experience, besides art, has been in the urban ag [agriculture] space within the nonprofit sector of Omaha. I've been in that community for about three years now. I feel myself having to try to fit in and mold into the spaces that weren’t necessarily created for me, whether that was intentionally or unintentionally. I think one thing that I have noticed to be difficult, or to be like a strain personally as a BIPOC person, is that I find it hard to even advocate, for more representation in those ways. You just don't want to be like that Brown or Black person who's always talking about Brown and Black people, you know what I mean? I want to be unapologetic in that instance of always trying to support and put more representation for my people, but at the same time, it gets exhausting if you feel like this space wasn't created for that. I feel like that's something that I struggle with.
Also, one thing that comes to mind is that I've had other opportunities come up within the urban ag community to maybe help them, I guess diversify, even though I hate that word. I guess be more inclusive to like BIPOC or Queer folks but all the people that I have tried to put in these spaces and help them in these spaces--being in a mostly white space--has been more detrimental than it is progressive in that sense. I feel like even if it's not necessarily spoken to shape shift, I feel like it's an unspoken rule, you know what I mean? If I'm in a room full of my co-workers, I probably won't play hip hop. I'll probably play something that I feel is more attuned to what they listen to, and maybe that's just like a personal projection but I do think it's also valid from my experiences as a Black woman in America. I do feel like in certain rooms or certain spaces through work and through networking with other nonprofits that I have really seen ways that people don't necessarily accept me or view me as a person that they can talk to about, or collaborate with, on projects. They'd rather speak to my white counterparts.
I feel like there's always work to be done, but I can give props because I feel like, especially with COVID happening, it was such an eye opener to so many people. It also made you be more present in your community and what's happening here. So, just using what you have to help others is the best thing and giving more opportunities both financial and non-financial.
[PF] That’s a great place to end. Thank you, Alajia for spending some time with us. We really appreciate you. We appreciate all the great work you’re doing and can’t wait to see what’s next.
Alajia McKizia is an afro-indigenous multidisciplinary artist based in Omaha, Nebraska. Alajia was a 2020 Inside/Outside fellow at the Union of Contemporary Art. Alajia also served as a studio assistant for Oakland based artist Nyame Brown during an internship at the Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts. Her work has been featured in exhibitions at the Union for Contemporary Art, the Bemis Center, KANEKO, Tugboat Gallery, MaMo, The Bay, and in a group exhibition curated by Alajia at Amplify Arts titled “Silk.” She has created solo and collaborative public art projects for Benson First Friday, One Omaha, the City of Omaha, and The Study. Her work has also been published in Time + Space, and the Hi-Fi magazine. She has been featured in performances by African Culture Connection and .tbd Dance collective including “Language for a Living,” a performance for Caroline Kent’s exhibition “ Disappearance of the world, appearance of the world” at the Union for Contemporary Art.