Written by Pujan Patel, 16, Ocala Florida
As a person of color (POC) activist, dealing with organizations that do not actively make initiatives to foster diversity and inclusivity can be toxic and emotionally draining. In 2016, the Pulse nightclub shooting inspired me to make a change and to speak out for underrepresented communities. I felt obligated to speak out and to make direct change, in order to live in a peaceful place where I can thrive without question or interference. In 2018, the shooting at Parkland, Florida and in Ocala, Florida moved me emotionally to the point where I felt angry at the world for letting such a tragedy occur, and that day was transformative in regards to my activism. I was tired of being a bystander and I once again felt obligated to make change. Working with an organization like March for Our Lives seemed to be the best pathway to do so, however, it has led to make me feel less safe and welcome.
When I joined March for Our Lives and created a local branch in my hometown, I heard of the cautionary tales of other activists and organizations who have dealt with them. What I never knew was that experience firsthand, and I dismissed their stories and experiences with the executives from MFOL. The formation of the local branch was very stressful to me and my co-founder as we had no guidance from National, which looking back, was the least of my problems. The intentional lack of recognition as an activist was very harmful. In the state leadership calls other branch delegates (as well as myself) organized, speaking with them seemed like hell for me. Whenever I would speak and bring up issues and topics to take action on, the comments (or lack thereof) spoke volumes of the receptions of the other white activists in regards to my presence as a member and leader of MFOL.
When bringing light to this issue, as well as the general intersectionality issue, the response from my National State Organizer was that when founding March for Our Lives, the people at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School (MSDHS) were white, and since there was no POC in the area, they couldn’t help the founding members of March for Our Lives to be white. According to the data reported by MSDHS, the total minority enrollment was 41% (which constituted anyone not caucasian), an estimation of 1293 students attending MSDHS that are NOT white. When I brought up this issue with another March for Our Lives branch delegate, he quickly fired back saying that “since this is not an issue that will be solved by national anytime soon, there’s no reason to fix it.”
My last place to look for some comfort in a sea of pain and unwelcomeness was in a Gun Violence Prevention (GVP) Discord server (Discord is a communications platform that can host multitudes of people at once). March for Our Lives leaders, like myself, populated this server from all levels of the leadership hierarchy. When the organization was making major structural changes, a new position opened which managed regions of specific sects of the country. POC organizers in the server asked if this position would be diversified, to which March for Our Lives National said yes. However, only one non white passing organizer was hired for this position. When many of us organizers called out March for Our Lives, they said that “they would try harder next time.” and when more of us pushed for an in-depth answer, we got nothing.
Following the pressure we put on the MFOL National representative to address this issue, I received side texts from other organizers and branch delegates saying that I am too angry, loud, and heated “...for something that isn’t even a big deal.” When looking back at my experiences with MFOL, all I see is the unwelcoming nature because of my skin color, because how loud and critical I am about the organization I work for, and how loud my other fellow POC activists who work with MFOL are. I joined to make change, and to feel welcome doing so. But I, as a POC organizer, am not being heard with serious consideration. I’d rather make contributions towards the GVP movement without being affiliated with March for Our Lives.
My experience alone IS NOT the experiences that many other POC face under MFOL. I acknowledge that my experience working with MFOL is not as severe as many others, who faced much worse. I would also like to address that the organization is not the issue. The work toward GVP by March for Our Lives is astounding, and the organizers who affiliate with them should be recognized for their contributions to ending gun violence. The problem is the leadership from the start, and while I understand the urgency when forming MFOL which put inclusivity on the back-burner, these leaders had TIME to make changes, following the Road to Change tours (leaders of MFOL and other notable GVP leaders would have a discussion on gun control around the country) and the march. The criticisms I write about March for Our Lives are only for the organization to grow, not to falter.
Other leaders like Isra Hirsi, a sophomore, founding member of MFOL Minnesota, Youth Climate Strike, & chair of the Minnesota High School Democrats has experiences to share regarding her experiences with MFOL. When asking about her involvement with March for Our Lives, she states that she hasn’t been as affiliated as other organizers.
“I haven’t been involved with March for Our Lives for a very long time and its due to being hesitant about my friend’s and colleagues experiences with the organization itself for a while now. I only decided to join due to the mass influence and power they wielded on the GVP movement.”
She further on elaborates the events proceeding her joining the movement, saying that she felt “...isolated and on [her] own” with a primarily white board.
“The people on our board do not put effort in diversifying and the lack of inclusivity happens everywhere, with an all-white leadership. MFOL is no exception to this. March for Our Lives needs to learn to take a step back and let people of color speak out and LEAD. The tokenization and the discrimination of people of color is abhorrent at best and needs to come to a halt.”
Other people did not want to publicly come forward for fear of repercussions by the executive team that runs March for Our Lives National. However, they wanted to share the essences of their experiences with MFOL. Some were ostracized for being black at a Road to Change stop, others were simply not able to speak. Many of these activists (some even from Marjory Stoneman Douglass High) who I’ve contacted all say one thing in common: that they were not heard out by March for Our Lives. No matter what you think of this piece, the takeaway here is that POC organizers feel unheard, and are tired of playing diplomacy with March for Our Lives.
POC organizers deserve a seat at the table. We deserve an equal chance to properly voice our concerns without worrying about someone jumping in and acting all ‘savior’ on us, tokenizing us and making us their PR eye candy, or just full on silencing us. From the formation of the organization, March for Our Lives has had this problem, with several opportunities to fix said problems. But you do not fix the problem by repeating to us that you acknowledge the issue at hand for MONTHS. The demands of POC organizers to feel welcome and to have a voice are not ridiculous goals to meet. If MFOL continues on this trend of willful ignorance, more and more powerful organizers will quit, like many that already have. I do not criticize March for Our Lives to criticize, nor do I promote an anti-white sentiment. In fact, the founding members of MFOL are wonderful organizers, who have created a movement that is synonymous with Generation Z. I only criticize because I care about this organization and this is the only way I am able to guarantee a seat at the table for them to hear me, and others like me. If they deny us a seat at first, we pull a chair up.
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