INT. Dacha turned conference room.

Two women (one Korean-American, one Indian-American) sit at the head of the table–a first in this institution.

 

Indian-American Woman: 

Let’s imagine that in this rigid-follow-these-colonial-rules schedule 

there could be a space

for minority students (in a predominantly white school) 

to feel safe, together, supported, like a community, strong.

 

White American Man: 

We can’t do that. 

What will the rest of the students do while these students go to their safe spaces? 

Who will supervise the rest? 

teacher contracts will not allow it.

 

Korean-American Woman: 

this thing we’ve built will fizzle out. 

this precious thing–for our students to feel less

alone. 

it will not stand on its own as is, 

we have to craft legs or it will never walk

and I want it to walk. I think we all do.

how can we show our students that we believe, we can imagine,  

if we do not dream up a space for them?

 

White American Male/Female Administrative Team: 

This will not work.

We can’t do that. 

What will the rest of the students do while these students go to their safe spaces? 

Who will supervise the rest? 

teacher contracts will not allow it.

There is no space in the schedule for this to exist.

There is no space in the schedule for this to exist.

There is no space in the schedule for your dream to exist.

There is no space for your dream to exist.

There is no space for you.

no space for you..

 

Voices fade and scene fades to black.

 

_________ Thirteen months have passed since the meeting and the Indian-American woman is in her bed, awakened in the early hours of the morning; she writes.

Indian-American Woman:  

Today I write, calling the world

together at once to birth a space

of change and chance

a chance to sculpt hope into these boulders 

the ones we are so used to standing next to, 

and climbing up.

a change that lets us lean in,

invent roads that are built on freedom

where power is no longer the vehicle that runs over people 

leaving them to bleed out like roadkill

I am calling for invention so different 

from what we know:

 

a change—

to stand next to each other instead of above or below

a chance—

to rip apart this ladder of hierarchy 

so that we can see each other as partners instead of rivals.

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On this Friday morning, I give you our newest issue titled A Woman’s Dream and hope to ignite a pulse in you that impels you to design the life and world of your wildest dreams.

Sonia Chintha

Editor in Chief