Nancy Lyons: “You just need to care enough to show up”

 

The 40th Anniversary celebration was sponsored by Unidos MN, Mary T., Women’s Foundation, and Minneapolis Foundation.

 

 

When I was young, feminism felt like something abstract, something distant, something that belonged to other women — the kind who wore the big shoulder pads or marched in the streets or read Ms. magazine in public so everyone could see. It felt like a club I wasn’t sure that I was invited to.

But then there was my mother. My mother grew up in abject poverty in Lorraine, Ohio, and went to medical school in 1957 when her friends were getting married and having children for their careers — which are admirable careers, but the cultural pressure to pursue those careers was pretty intense.

My mom didn’t call herself a feminist, but she was one, loud and clear. She ran her own medical clinic in a town where women were still expected to smile more than they spoke. She was four foot 11, and she walked into every single room like she was 10 feet tall. She didn’t wait for permission, she didn’t apologize for taking up space, and she didn’t accept limits for herself, for me, or for what was possible. Watching her taught me something real — that feminism isn’t just a theory. It was action. It was how you lived. It was how you fought. It was how you showed up for yourself and for the people who need you.

She was my first example of what it looked like to lead without shrinking, and that’s the foundation I stand on today. So I want to say good evening to all of you. You are friends, leaders, change-makers, misfits, disruptors and badass humans. Tonight, we’re celebrating 40 years of truth telling from the Minnesota Women’s Press. We honor the women who dared to print what others would not say out loud.

But I want to be really clear, this is not a birthday party. It’s a call, because Minnesota has long been seen as a beacon, a leader in LGBTQ-plus protections, in reproductive rights, and in equity work. I used to think that this state was a bastion of freedom and diversity. Then I read an article by Nekima, and it was the reason I got up and out of my comfort zone and started to show up in the streets, following Nekima, because she opened my eyes to what I was blind to because of my privilege. I was really thrilled to find out that we’d be on the same stage tonight, because Nekima is a hero of mine.

I think that Minnesota has done a lot right, but we need light keepers to shine light where we aren’t looking. Being a beacon doesn’t mean the work is done. We have things to continue to build, and things we must protect, and some things we have to grow. There’s a call to all of us who are still here, still doing the work, still holding the line between progress and the push back.

Let’s be honest, the work can feel really heavy, really hard. What’s happening right now, it’s fallout and push back and backlash that we didn’t necessarily expect. It’s exhausting, and it can feel impossible, and fear is real. I see it: It shows up in silence. It shows up in perfectionism. It shows up in burnout and in waiting for permission for the next election, for someone else to handle it.

But here’s the thing — nobody’s coming to save us. We are the someone else, and progress is never permanent. That means that we have to stop thinking of justice as a finish line and start treating it like a muscle, one we have to work every single day. If we want inclusive communities, we have to be inclusive in the everyday. That’s the real work, the spiritual work, the neighborly.

Fear is loud, but it’s not smart. Fear tells you to sit still, to keep quiet, to let the experts handle it. But fear is a liar. You don’t need permission to show up. You just need to decide that showing up matters more than being afraid. And I want every queer kid, every working mom, every activist, every person who’s ever been underestimated, to hear that you don’t need a title or a position or a fancy business card. To lead, you just need to care enough to show up.

So tonight, one way to lead is to contribute to the work of the Women’s Press, because journalism is taking a hit right now. And go to the town hall, ask the hard questions, speak in a mic, say what’s true, even when your voice shakes.

Our democracy doesn’t just live in Washington, D.C. It lives in our school boards, our community centers, in our group chats and in rooms just like this one. We are not passive witnesses to history. We are the authors.

So tonight, as we honor 40 years of truth and power, I want to ask all of you: what will you do in the next 40 days, in the next 40 weeks, or, if you’ve got them, the next 40 years? Because Minnesota can stay a beacon of progress, of effort, of energy, of good people, but only if we, the people, choose to be the light keepers.

My challenge for you is, let’s get loud. Let’s get messy.

Or take a nap if rest is what you need, but let’s get to work. Whatever that looks like. We have to follow leaders who are headed to the truth, and we have to keep fighting, because, again, we’re exercising a muscle.