How a Detroit Conference Is Shaping the Future of Feminism
For four days last month, those of us who attended the Allied Media Conference in Detroit played with what鈥檚 possible. We let imagination trump strategy and relationship trump transaction. Then we came back to the wider world to find that the volume had been cranked up on some of the most pressing political issues of our time.
You鈥檒l rarely hear anyone at the AMC railing against patriarchy, racism, classism, homophobia, or transphobia.
The U.S. Supreme Court had gutted the Voting Rights Act, punted on affirmative action, and affirmed the legitimacy of marriage among same-sex couples. A Democratic legislator in Texas had successfully filibustered to stop the passage of an anti-choice bill in her state. Meanwhile, the immigration debate had moved even further to the right.
The news came as an immediate reminder that I鈥檇 been in a kind of parallel universe. I鈥檇 spent most of the Allied Media Conference, or AMC, in sessions focused on reproductive justice, family, and gender, but neither marriage nor abortion rights had come up much. I went to workshops about birthing and parenting, sexual health, and tech-enhanced, community-generated to keep women and LGBTQ people safe. I listened to a 16-year-old girl from Albuquerque explain why she made about her mother鈥檚 struggle with addiction. I spoke with an organizer at El/La Para Translatinas about on transgender women in San Francisco鈥檚 Mission neighborhood.
Immersed in these conversations, it was easy to lose sight of national policy battles in favor of the changes we can make right now within ourselves and our immediate communities. Each year, AMC participants construct a vision for the world they want to inhabit through a months-long conference . Then they use their time together in Detroit to experiment with the ideas and practices they think can get us there. Allied Media Projects, the organization that hosts the conference and works on year-round education and digital arts programs in Detroit, is governed by that sums up this philosophy. 鈥淲e focus on the solutions, not the problems鈥 and 鈥渨e focus on strategies rather than issues鈥 are among them. A do-it-yourself ethos underlies everything, a holdover from the conference鈥檚 origins 15 years ago as a place where zine publishers, Indymedia journalists, microcinema hosts, and other media makers came together.
What this meant in practice last month is that participants attending a session titled received copies of a zine about masturbation, BDSM, and relationships, and watched a demonstration of how to make an inexpensive dildo harness out of a rope. Instead of bemoaning the persistence of abstinence-only education around the country, educators from the Los Angeles-based sex toy company Cucci offered practical tips for a self-directed sex life.
鈥淲e feel like a lot of sex education focuses on reproductive health, not the pleasure of sex,鈥 Brenda Alvarez of Cucci explained during the session.
Similarly, when a conversation on birth and parenting justice hosted by turned to the cascade of medical interventions that can happen during hospital births, participants pivoted to solutions. They discussed ways to make sure midwives and doulas can continue to support families despite the professionalization of these age-old roles and physician supervision requirements like the one in place in Delaware and under consideration in .
At a different conference, the question might have been, 鈥淎re out-of-hospital births safe?鈥 Here it was, 鈥淗ow do we better get the word out that Medicaid covers midwifery care in some states?鈥
AMC workshop facilitators subvert the institutions, people, and ideas given center stage in more mainstream venues simply by shifting attention elsewhere. Portland-based writer and organizer Walidah Imarisha has been part of a group of science and speculative fiction lovers who have been exploring the genre at the conference for the past few years. that sci-fi offers a model for visioning and communicating about new worlds and parallel possibilities鈥攑ursuits of interest to many of the 1,600-plus people who show up at the AMC. Imarisha and others鈥攊ncluding poet and self-described 鈥渂lack feminist love evangelist鈥 Alexis Pauline Gumbs, writer Adrienne Maree Brown, and writer and activist Leah Laksmi Piepzna-Samarasinha鈥攁re making the work of women sci-fi writers part of the conference鈥檚 common language. Some of their favorites include Octavia Butler, Ursula Le Guin, Marge Piercy, and Nnedi Okorafor.
鈥淥ctavia Butler is the foundational piece of the whole science fiction track, and for me that鈥檚 incredibly important,鈥 Imarisha told me. Butler is known for populating her post-apocalyptic landscapes with women and people of color protagonists. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 say, 鈥楲et鈥檚 talk about Octavia Butler as this black feminist figure and what that means,鈥欌 Imarisha said, 鈥渁nd yet it certainly happened.鈥
You鈥檒l rarely hear anyone at the AMC railing against patriarchy, racism, classism, homophobia or transphobia, or verbally asserting their values from a place of defensiveness or a desire to convert. Instead, many of the attendees live at the crossroads of intersecting oppressions and come to the conference seeking a place to practice a different way of being, unburdened by the usual constraints.
For people whose politics already include a 鈥渃hange yourself to change the world鈥 approach, the AMC can sound like a godsend. But to others who are more apt to think in terms of the number of good bills passed, voters mobilized or corporate misdeeds exposed, the conference can have the air of group therapy: high on self-indulgence and low on impact. I鈥檝e gotten both types of feedback from colleagues and friends I鈥檝e encouraged to attend.
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Whether and how to best bring the conference鈥檚 lessons to scale remain open, important questions. For example, the AMC has become a central networking hub for feminists of color, according to Piepzna-Samarasinha and Andrea Ritchie, a police misconduct attorney and member of INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence. During a workshop on the final day of the conference, these longtime attendees expressed appreciation for the space as an incubator and dissemination point for some of the best ideas and practices generated by people of color who are women, LGBTQ, or gender nonconforming. These voices are too often in the margins of our public debates, when they appear at all. So Piepzna-Samarasinha and Ritchie鈥檚 comments left me wondering how the conference and its surrounding infrastructure could provide a bigger platform for these same people and ideas year-round.
Being in a bubble isn鈥檛 necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it provides the safety we need to dream and the intimacy we need to build authentic relationships. How much further along might our movements be if we all took a few days each year to step into the futures we claim to be working toward?
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Dani McClain
reports on race, parenting and reproductive health. McClain鈥檚 writing has appeared in outlets including The New York Times, TIME, The Atlantic, Harper鈥檚 BAZAAR and Colorlines. Her work has been recognized by the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association, the National Association of Black Journalists, Planned Parenthood Federation of America, and she鈥檚 received a James Aronson Award for 精东影业 Journalism. McClain is a contributing writer at The Nation. She was a staff reporter at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel and has worked as a strategist with organizations including Color of Change and Drug Policy Alliance. Her book, We Live for the We: The Political Power of Black Motherhood, was published in 2019 by Bold Type Books and was shortlisted in 2020 for a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award. She was the Cincinnati public library鈥檚 Writer-in-Residence in 2020 and 2021. She is based in Ohio and speaks English.
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