I was looking through an old blog of mine that I had completely forgotten about (it was short lived) and I found this letter I had written to the author of a ‘zine on sobriety.  As it turns out the author was someone I knew and we’ve had some good conversations about the topic (its still a topic we talk a lot about when we see each other).  Well, I didn’t want to lose the post so I figured I’d repost it here.  Its a good zine and if you are interested in getting a free copy of it just let me know and we’ll set you up.  Here’s the letter:

Hello, riotfag.
Although I believe i know who you are, i won’t assume. I wanted to write in response to your zine, “towards a less fucked up world.” In all, i thought it was amazing. Its only the second sincerely and radically critical piece i’ve read about sobriety in the context of struggle. As you may know, i am substance-free. What you may not know is that i am a recovering drug addict (with tendencies and a family history pushing me towards alcoholism). I won’t go into every detail of my persynal struggle with drugs and alcohol and their interconnections with my gender and sexual identities, class and regional upbringing, history with assault, and so forth. The short version is that i was fifteen when i became a drug addict. I numbed myself with everything i could get my hands on (with the exception of heroin and ketamine). I was seventeen when i ran far away from home, was arrested three times in a week, overdosed (purposefully), woke up with two days of my life a complete blank, and then checked myself into rehab. Again, i won’t go into the privileges i had and used to pay for my intensive rehab, but i recognize their existence.

I was serious about being clean. I had grown tired of throwing my life away. I had totaled my car, alienated and left my family and friends, given up on all hopes and dreams, in short, i had killed myself (that was my intention). But i was so serious about cleaning my body to make room for my hopes and dreams that i was released (they call it ‘graduated’) from the rehab center three weeks early. I was the only persyn their not under a court order. But what no one seems to understand is how pervasive addiction is. Within a week of returning to my small, Midwestern hometown, i was using again. This time i was just more conscious about appearing ‘clean’.

A few months later, my mom, sister and i moved north to Indianapolis. I saw this as a chance to stay clean again. It didn’t last. Luckily, i would meet someone at my new school who would introduce me to two words: straight-edge. Well, he also introduced me to the word vegan. I immediately became a straight-edge vegan (an instant criminal in Utah).

The key to my sobriety can be summed up in one word: struggle. It was not any sort of straight-edge subculture that helped me stay clean (in fact, i abhorred the straight-edge scene in indy). When i began identifying as straight-edge, i also began to recognize the world outside what i felt was a suffocating, small, rural, Midwestern town. More importantly, i began to find my role in that world. I began organizing solidarity protests with the Ogoni against Shell. I became more educated and involved in other global struggles in areas like East Timor, Rwanda, South Africa, Chiapas, Ireland, Colombia and elsewhere. I became an anti-racist feminist. It wasn’t long before i used the ‘a’ word: anarchist. I think i was the only one in my school.

So for me, sobriety and struggle are inextricable. Having found radical struggle i am not ‘cured’. I have relapsed three times since the age of seventeen (to a much lesser extent than when i was seventeen, but addicts rarely know self-imposed boundaries): each time involved me feeling a disconnection from community and global struggle.

When people ask me why i don’t use drugs or drink alcohol i usually give a short answer: read Assata’s autobiography. One of the pieces of her story that stick out to me the most is when she is sitting with a group of fellow revolutionaries smoking weed. She had a realization that if the cops were to bust in they were all too fucked-up to defend themselves. She chose sobriety at that point. I realized that not only is my sobriety deeply connected to the sense of self-worth i find in struggle, but the effectiveness of ‘my’ struggle is deeply connected to my sobriety.

I moved to Asheville with a great sense of hope and invigoration. I’ve quickly grown bitter, cynical, and disillusioned. Although there are a number of reasons for this, a central theme is alcohol abuse. It has hindered, stifled, and ruined too many things in this town. It has come to the point where people believe the only time they can take action is when they’re drunk (and that action is usually limited to a drunken march in the streets with no message attached except a retrospective ‘fuck the police’ and ‘reclaim the streets’). I and other dedicated radicals in this town don’t go to the ACRC, shows, benefits, parties or other such gatherings because they are not safe spaces. Some are recovering addicts, like myself, and others are survivors of sexual assault and/or domestic abuse that involved drug and alcohol abuse. I’m sure you can imagine the effects this has on organized struggle, community, and possibilities for friendships and a better world.
Reading your zine and knowing that it comes from North Carolina provide a great sense of hope for me. I am ever so grateful for that and i hope we can continue this dialogue. I am certainly interested in the ‘sober support network’ you mentioned. I think its time we support each other as radicals (rather than Christian-based rehab programs) and begin to learn and act upon the lessons of our predecessors (the Zapatistas are not the only radicals that have taken a strong stance on drugs and alcohol).

With that said, i do not want to sell you short of some critical analysis (it, too, is necessary for radical growth in struggle). Although i was very appreciative for your section on alcohol use and rape, i felt it was leaning towards, what i see as, an undesirable conclusion. While the two are certainly linked, alcohol, in my opinion, is not a cause of rape. Period. You were exactly right when you said anyone can be a rapist. I would go so far as to say we are all trained to be and are more than capable. It is a part of our culture. And it is not just men who rape. Our culture teaches no one the language of consent. Alcohol, in my opinion, is merely an excuse and a ‘social lubricant’. In other words, a rapist makes the decision to rape and in order to numb themselves of emotion and responsibility, they drink. I don’t believe that sobriety makes someone stop raping. It may make them less inclined, but i think that is because they are then forced to feel the emotion and no longer have the excuse of “i was drunk and didn’t know what i was doing.” While i agree that getting rid of drug and alcohol addiction in our communities will help reduce the amount of rape and other forms of violence and creating safe spaces are necessary for the immediately healing of our culture, rape will not be stopped with prohibition. It will take a very long and internal battle within our culture to counter thousands of years of inoculation and socialization. But i am glad you began the conversation on rape and substance use. It is a much needed conversation that i hope will continue.

I’ll stop here for now, but i look forward to future dialogue. I know there is much work to be done and much for all of us to learn. Thanks again for your zine. I’ll copy it and pass it on (especially throughout Asheville).

[tags]alcohol, sobriety[/tags]