By Ellie Belew
My own lefty ways were forged growing up in a Minneapolis suburb. I live in Washington State now, but came to consciousness within the social disconnect of the Twin Cities of the 1960s and 1970s: a powerful coop movement, violent city police, expansive arts, public parks in which the National Guard tear-gassed and beat protesters, an Aquatennial that turned into what was then called a “race riot.” Honeywell manufactured frag bombs in Hopkins while sprinklers watered nearby golf courses, and the AIM trials of Dennis Banks and Russell Means shared headlines with costumed Vikings fans.
I had been ruminating about these disjunctions and wanted to go back in time a bit to poke around that regional “progressive” history. Maybe there would be some parallels; maybe I could find some generational connections to the mess in which I grew up.
These connections are often made by historians. They are found in library stacks. I first stopped by the East Side Freedom Library about five years ago, just to look around. I’d heard co-founder Peter Rachleff speak almost a decade before that at a labor event where I now live.
I left my pre-COVOD visit to ESFL in awe: so many tall, beautiful, orderly shelves packed with books I had never heard of and now wanted to read; a mix of people coming and going and talking about various events and projects; exciting visual art on every free wall; there was even a well-used meeting room downstairs.
Fast forward to 2022. I had been brooding about writing a new novel: one that would swirl around the mess and muck of striving for solidarity, especially about the women-folk. I was at my own crossroads, stomped down hard by the lack and loss of such solidarity in my immediate community suffering from the hard times of the pandemic and social climate in which we toiled.
Hard times.
Like lots of people.
The real and best stories are about the people who have little to lose in the sense of not having all-the-things; the ones who have everything to lose in the sense of what really matters.
I want to write about how we sometimes run away, why we sometimes avoid eye contact (or any contact), and how, sometimes, we stand together. Or try to. As Clarence White wrote in his blog
We are not slaves. We are not fodder. We are not heroes….
We are sisters, brothers and kin. We are essential.
I returned to the ESFL last summer. Working in this space is something like playing with fireworks or chasing blowing papers.
COVID-level library traffic allowed me uninterrupted access during my brief visit. The more I read from the library, the more questions I had. Thanks to ESFL’s unbelievably great online catalog, I was engulfed in history I had never ever been taught: overviews and commentary and first person accounts; specifics that allowed me to track down original source materials at the Gale Family Library of the Minnesota Historical Society.
Still, the best feeling of my times in the library was to look up from my papers and see the workings of the ESFL. Volunteers sorting and shelving books. People dropping off pamphlets. Calls and conversations about future events.
The East Side Freedom Library is a wonder of calm, knowledge, generosity, inspiration, and solidarity in this, our current social sea of fear and anger, nullification, domination, and bullying. Thank you EVERYONE who gives ESFL life. I look forward to returning.
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BIO
Ellie Belew writes fiction to explore what we consider to be real, including the ephemeral, sometimes luminous connection we have with each other and the natural world. While living in a small town in central Washington State, she has published one novel (with audio CD) and four community histories. She is currently seeking a publisher for her second novel, ISOTOPIA (K’ÁAW).