From South Minneapolis, This Cold January

Things have been pretty hectic here, but we’re finding ways to show up for each other.

I’m not really at a loss. There’s always something to do in the neighborhood. It’s still stressful, but there’s plenty to be done. I’m sort of just learning to live with the pit in my stomach. Other cities have been through this. It isn’t the first time my neighborhood has been through this.

And local cartoonists have been making an effort to share their stories. If you’re a cartoonist, a storyteller, a zinester with a story to share, please feel free to participate. I drew up some parameters here for everyone to use.

On a lighter note, here is Minnie! She’s the sweetest little angel.

I was asked recently by graphic journalist, editor, and educator Shay Mirk about how I felt about my role as an artist in the middle of the ICE occupation since I started making these journal comics. Here's my long-winded response:

I’m going to give you the unsexy answer, which is that while I think art-making and participating in the culture is important, I’m currently more concerned about how I show up as a citizen and as a neighbor. I think art can be powerful and affecting, and in this case it serves an important record-keeping function. But I don’t think any of us are stopping at making art. A lot of us are showing up at our local community centers to connect with neighbors. Some of us are points of contact for friends who are more vulnerable to ICE’s racial profiling. We’re participating in mutual aid efforts like clothing drives and food shelves for families impacted by ICE abductions, school closures, or for families with breadwinners afraid to leave their homes.

The responsibility of social change and community support does not solely hang on the shoulders of the art we make. It never has. So we’re showing up as whole people, too.

None of us are under the illusion that making art will magically change hearts and minds, but we do it because that is the corner of society where we live. That is one little facet of the culture where we can leave our mark with our skills. My role as an artist remains unchanged, but the ways I need to show up as a good neighbor have shifted. And I feel this way because I am an immigrant, a refugee. While I’m a citizen, I still cannot leave my house without risking a major disruption to my life. I’m unfairly required to engage with a heightened sense of diligence to protect my safety.

This is not a rhetorical problem to me. My art will not save me, but community might. And doing this work—connecting with other cartoonists and with readers in the area and around the world—is really only a tiny part of engaging with community. It’s a small part of a greater and more essential effort.

I find doing outfacing personal work very uncomfortable. I dislike internet engagement, generally. I do not want to use my social channels in any way remotely resembling an influencer. I won’t chase clicks, and I’d ordinarily rather restrict comments and diminish engagement in favor of peace of mind. 

But because social media is a not-insignificant aspect of my work, I’ve constructed myself a little cartoon avatar to send out where I can be clear about being a smaller version of myself online. Since I’ve already invented a visual language to narrativize myself, I can parlay that into making journal comics like this.

I hope you, dear reader, are doing as well as you can manage. I want that for everyone.