Seeds of Change
Cultivating Liberation in Uncertain Soil
Change is not a singular event. It is a process, a rhythm, a breath that expands and contracts with the world around it. It begins as a seed — small, seemingly insignificant, but carrying the full potential of transformation within it.
Many of us have been taught that change happens in grand, sweeping motions. That justice arrives in the form of policies, protests, or revolutions that shake the ground beneath us. These moments matter.
If we burn it all down, as Loretta Ross says, how will we find one another in the ashes? Can we emerge anew, sprouting through?
The change in the unseen roots, the slow unravelling of what we thought was fixed, the daily acts of choosing differently. These are what ground us in the winds of change. This is what connects us to our forests of community.
The Soil We Inherit
To plant the seeds of change, we must examine the soil we are working with. What histories live here? What stories have been buried? What toxicities have been left behind by those who came before us? The land we stand upon holds the weight of past harms, but it also carries the wisdom of resistance.
For many of us, unlearning is our first act of cultivation.
We have inherited systems built on extraction, dominance, and control — systems that tell us justice is only for some, that scarcity is inevitable, that power must always be held over rather than shared among. To plant new seeds, we must disrupt the conditions that have allowed injustice to take root.
Tending to Our Collective Growth
Liberation is not an individual pursuit. This work is so much grander than being dwindled to a populist figure or a brand. So many want to be the star of the show that they forget it is so much more beautiful to be one star in a constellation together, as Mariame Kaba says.
Seeds do not grow in isolation; they flourish in ecosystems of care. Our work is to nurture the conditions where justice can thrive — not just in policy, but in relationship, in classrooms, in working spaces, in community hubs, in the ways we show up for one another.
Some seeds take longer to sprout. Some require a breaking open before they can grow. Some will not survive in soil that refuses to change.
And that, too, is a lesson.
Not all structures can be reformed; some must be composted entirely.
Relishing in the Harvest
If we are to plant seeds of change, we must also be willing to imagine the world they could create. Not just resistance, but renewal. Not just the end of harm, but the presence of something deeply nourishing and fulfilling in its place. What does it look like to build from abundance rather than scarcity? To create structures rooted in care, dignity, and interdependence?
The seeds we plant today may not fully bloom in our lifetime. That is not a failure. It is a promise.
Every act of care, every disruption of injustice, every lesson shared is a seed carried forward by the winds of those who come next.
And so, we plant. We tend. We believe in the unseen roots.
Because even in uncertain soil, seeds of change will grow.
Yours in solidarity and perpetual growth,
Ms. K
