Cultivating

feminism

The Journey - Murmuration

This is an open journal about my journey exploring feminism.

9.25.23

Murmuration. A word I don’t think I had heard. And once I listened to the definition, I wasn't sure how it applied to anything I had ever done or would ever do.

A murmuration is a natural phenomenon that describes the specific flock formation and movement of starlings. A starling is a rather dull or non-spectacular bird that originated in the United Kingdom but was brought to the United States in the late 1800s. Most may consider Starlings a pest, but something magical happens when they begin to dance.

https://youtu.be/V4f_1_r80RY?feature=shared

These medium-sized birds begin to communicate with one another and start moving in waves and turns, creating art in motion. An ocean-like sound can accompany the routine as their wings push the air synchronously.

Now, back to how this applied to me. I was in a movement-building training, and the speaker was Karen Tronsgard-Scott. At the time, Karen was the director of the Vermont Network Against Domestic and Sexual Violence. We were talking about Nebraska’s work to end domestic and sexual violence. As you may have guessed, that kind of topic and work is heavy. Like soul-crushing. The kind you just want to put down and walk away. Maybe pick up another type of work that seems possible. The multi-faceted work at ending sexual and domestic violence is challenging. While most would agree that it needs to end, it is hard to fully engage systems and individuals in believing it will take significant societal changes that have been upheld for hundreds and thousands of years.

When Karen started explaining this natural phenomenon of murmuration, I was perplexed. And when she began weaving it in with the work to end sexual and domestic violence, I was skeptical. But it all had to do with the science behind this tiny bird's instincts.

Scientists have studied how and why these tiny birds begin their winged ballets. Usually, it is just before they roost in the area for the night. Scientists believe it has to do with camouflaging themselves against predators by appearing like a more enormous-bodied beast in the sky. Small fish often do this as well (only underwater), keeping predators from singling any of them out. Scientists have yet to pinpoint how the dance begins but have figured it comes down to communication and the number seven.

When one of the birds decides it’s time to begin, it communicates with the seven birds around it. Then those seven with the seven around them, and so on. Each turn, dip, loop-de-loop is shared with the same seven birds. Thus, the murmuration begins and continues until the signal to roost is given. Hundreds of thousands of birds are moving as one, never crashing (or maybe rarely), not missing a turn or switchback, just trusting in the movements of the seven around them. Unassumingly just dancing with the seven around them. But the view from afar is breathtaking.

Karen explained why our work statewide to end domestic and sexual violence was overwhelming and complex; if we took lessons from these tiny birds, it would seem more manageable. Committing to making the changes that needed to happen within our own circles (our seven) would have the same effect as these tiny birds. Soon, we would see changes happening further and further away, resulting in changes and shifts in towns, states, countries, and society as a whole. It allowed us to find possibility in the impossible and break the big problem into a more manageable and realistic strategy.

My work in the movement to end domestic and sexual violence ended two years ago. Still, I have never forgotten this analogy and the hope it gave me. Its simplicity and reliance on instinct have given me so much hope when so many spew hatred. When I see the prevalence of domestic and sexual violence, the diminishment of individual rights, and the dismissal of entire groups of people, it hurts my heart. The divisions among people. The apathy by those I used to admire, who unthinkingly turn their eyes away from it because the immediate effects don’t impact them. I think back to the hope and the impact I can have on seven. I think of the seven people I can help or the seven people I can reach out to let them know I support them no matter what. Who are the seven people I can have meaningful conversations with about change? Who are seven people to whom I can show kindness and love?

And while I may never know how or if I have an impact, just like a tiny starling dancing with seven in the sky, I have to believe that from a distance, as the sun sets, I am part of an awe-inspiring display of change.

I hope you are one of my seven. If so, go and find your seven.