Every Breath of My Life is Political

Inside: From the books I read, how I spend my money or teaching my children about the beauty of their diversity – my whole life is political.

I have always believed we are more alike than different. That our diversity is beautiful, not just healthy but needed. Diversity can inspire us and make us uncomfortable so that we continue to grow and become.

I was raised in a small prairie town snuggled tightly into verdant valley, surrounded by bear and moose, tadpoles and garter snakes, gorgeous rivers and lakes.

Humble and hard-working farmers and proud but hurting Indigenous community. We had not yet owned our history of racism and residential schools.

My husband was born and raised in the capital city of a West African nation nestled along the wild Atlantic coast, home of a proud and beautiful people of diverse tongue and ethnicity.

They survived through the slave trade and colonialism, changing hands enough times to make you dizzy. They have never known democracy.

I believe that diversity is not only beautiful but needed. It makes our families, communities, and nations richer and better. Diversity requires of us to hold space for complexity and sometimes be willing to sit in discomfort as we stretch, listen, and grow. But this is how we grow wiser and more resilient.

Every breath of my life is political

I was raised by parents who believed in at least some forms of equality*, in freedom, in compassion. Who thought the systems in place were broken and imperfect, adopted babies and made our family colourful and better.

They welcomed the lonely to our kitchen table, and taught us that when you have enough you make your table larger. They loved (albeit imperfectly) the marginalized people in our community. My childhood was political.

When I left home to study intercultural education and I met my beautiful Black husband who spoke a few different languages, and I agreed to assume all financial responsibility for him so that he could become a Canadian citizen.

And in spite of my dad’s love and fear around Canadian racism and rejection, when we married and started a family of our own…

…I don’t think it ought to be, but it was political.

My family’s existence is political

As we raised our precious babies to love themselves well and to celebrate their own diversity, every time we have challenging conversations and all of us show up willing to listen and learn.

When we’re willing to do hard work to sit with the questions, the books I read, how we spend our money, each small choice to reduce our environmental footprint, the people I invite into my inner circle…

As we walk together through loss and pain and mental health challenges and refuse to turn away from suffering in the world. And as we put down roots of self-awareness and self-compassion that help us see beyond cultural script and status quo.

When we examine our implicit bias and advocate for the full equality, dignity, and humanity of all people and affirm and remind our babies they don’t have to squish their beautiful selves into any prescribed box…

— our lives are political.

My work and life are values-aligned. This is how I vote for the kind of world I want to live in and leave behind.

My page and work have always been political. NOT necessarily party-specific, but values-based, compassion-aligned, an imperfect but purposeful reflection of my mission and heart.

One meaningful way that I advocate and wrestle and hope and try to make the world better. Kinder and safer for every messy human that walks this planet.

This is political.

Krista xo

P.S. *My parents died a long time ago. I can’t say for sure how they would respond to life today. But I know they’d be open to brave conversations and to being challenged in their assumptions because I saw evidence of this while they were alive.