The Radical, Feminist Power of Volunteering: Claire’s Experiences of Team FiLiA
By Claire L. Heuchan, author and award-winning essayist. She is Chair and Founder of Labrys Lit, an international lesbian book group.
“Ever since I started writing about feminist politics, women have asked me how they can engage more fully with the women’s movement and surrounding community. From here on out, my answer will always be the same: volunteer.”
I’ve written blog posts about starting Labrys Lit – an international lesbian book group run via Zoom – and I’ve written about sustaining it. In the spirit of feminist documentation, I think it’s important to keep a record of the creativity and organising born of the women’s movement. And perhaps reading about this particular lesbian space will inspire other women to build more of them. But it would be remiss of me to focus only on what I have done for women without acknowledging what other women have done for me. So, I’m going to tell you a bit about the magic of being one of the FiLiA volunteer collective.
I joined FiLiA in February 2021, when the country was still under a national lockdown. And forging these connections in a time of widespread loneliness was life-changing. It happened when FiLiA started #OurFeministLibrary in response to the Feminist Library announcing their opposition to women defining and organising as a sex class. The FiLiA Twitter account asked what events we’d hold in our own library, and I knew instantly: a lesbian book group.
After that exchange on Twitter, the idea stayed with me. And what transformed Labrys Lit from an idea into a reality was the support of Lisa-Marie. I messaged her about the possibility of setting up a lesbian book group, sure nobody would attend and – even if they did – that I was woefully underqualified to make it worth their time. The extent to which I’d internalised misogynoir becomes painfully apparent, looking back on that moment. But, even with my nerves and doubts, Lisa-Marie believed in Labrys Lit wholeheartedly from the beginning. And her absolute faith in this project was like rocket fuel.
In the flurry of phone calls, messages, and emails it took to set up Labrys Lit, she never once asked “Are you sure you’re up to this?” or “What if you do a bad job and it makes FiLiA look terrible?” – questions which haunted me; questions which I would have understood her asking. Instead, she said “this will be amazing.” The questions she asked me were “How can FiLiA help?” and “What do you need to make Labrys Lit happen?”
During those early days, there were multiple points when I was worried about making the wrong decision and asked Lisa-Marie for advice. She was always supportive. Every single time, Lisa-Marie would remind me that the choice and the power to make it were mine. She never tried to assume authority, instead encouraging me to trust my own judgements. And that is a brilliant way of modelling feminist leadership.
Growing up Black and female in this society, it is hard to hold on to or even build a sense of self-worth when you are constantly devalued by people, groups, and institutions around you. And lesbian voices are still treated like an aberration, a joke. So it was a transformative experience when Lisa-Marie channelled all that faith, support, and time in my idea for a lesbian book group, and considered it a worthwhile investment of FiLiA’s resources. Not many people have ever encouraged me the way she has.
Labrys Lit simply wouldn’t be what it is today – an international group with more than 250 women signed up – without FiLiA’s input. Josie is the tech whiz who co-ordinates our mailing list, queuing my emails to our members and updating the website. I’m capable of writing the text, but Josie’s digital literacy far outstrips my own. She’s made a gorgeous page for us, complete with links to where women can buy books from the reading list. And Aleks transformed my appalling Microsoft Paint rendition of our logo concept – a labrys with the axe blades replaced by two books – into an exquisite work of art. I am forever grateful to her.
An honourable mention also goes to Sally. In the words of the Divine Miss M, Sally is the wind beneath my wings. Every meeting she comes along to provide tech support, donating her time and energy to keep our Zoom room going strong. Sally has saved my bacon more than once. There was a meeting a few months in that could so easily have been a disaster but for her.
A few minutes before the meeting was due to start, I realised that my iPad was ‘only’ 96% charged. Somewhat illogically, I panicked that it would die midway through (I am prone to anxiety) and went to plug it in. And, genius that I am, unplugged the wireless router to make space for it. While I was going through the five stages of grief and praying for that green light with a desperation that put Jay Gatsby to shame, Sally was calmly letting women into our Zoom room.
Giving up on the router, I dialled in on my phone’s data. And there was Sally leading a lively discussion about what women had recently read. I’d thought the world would end because I was five minutes late, but Sally’s generosity and professionalism held everything together. She’s a vital part of this group. And given how much time she devotes to important causes, like the lesbians of Kakuma Refugee Camp, I am doubly grateful Sally manages to fit Labrys Lit into her busy schedule. There are few situations not improved by the presence of a thoroughly competent older lesbian.
As Chair I am most visible of the women making Labrys Lit happen. But I am only the tip of the iceberg. It’s a team effort. And I’m glad to have started this book group in partnership with FiLiA, which makes it more sustainable in the long run. Don’t get me wrong – I will gladly keep facilitating so long as even one lesbian wants to attend. But if I were to die or be somehow incapacitated, the framework is there for another woman to Chair.
The word “empowering” is thrown about all the time in feminist discourse, usually used to obscure the power dynamics behind a woman making a ‘choice’ that benefits the interests of patriarchy while wallpapering over any analysis of the socioeconomic context in which that choice was made. But FiLiA does empower women. This group empowers women to form community links with a global sisterhood and take action to resist male dominance.
We have regular team meetings where women update the rest of the collective about the progress of their particular projects. There are women working to abolish the sex industry and obstetric violence. Women championing the rights of their refugee and migrant sisters. Women working to dismantle class and race hierarchies. Women committed to ecofeminism, disability rights, the dignity and wellbeing of older women. And – of course – there are women standing up for lesbian community and culture. I don’t think FiLiA’s critics really grasp the breadth and scale of social good achieved by these extraordinary women, nor the wide range of human experiences reflected in our collective.
Some of our meetings involve educational sessions, where a woman teaches the rest of the group about her area of expertise. Knowledge isn’t something that’s guarded, but shared with generosity and warmth. I’ve learned about data and analytics; maternal healthcare; matriarchal societies throughout history; the representation of women’s bodies in cinema, distorted by the male gaze. Every meeting enriches. Because all the women in our team have that same boundless belief in one another.
To begin with I was nervous about participating in meetings. I worried that a lesbian book group paled in significance compared to some of the other projects. But with time I’ve realised that comparison stems from the mindset of competition, which is an unfortunate by-product of life under late capitalism. FiLiA is built instead upon collaboration. We succeed and thrive as a team, lifting each other up as we climb.
Women are nothing but welcoming at meetings. Every voice is valued, heard. And when at last I plucked up the courage to deliver an educational session of my own, telling the group about everything that goes into the running of Labrys Lit, the response was deeply affirming. I won’t delegitimise my worries, which were a natural and intended consequence of the racialised misogyny. But I will say that the environment of those meetings and the respect which flows through Team FiLiA have allowed me to tune out the voice of misogynoir; the one that tells me everything I do is worthless.
Ever since I started writing about feminist politics, women have asked me how they can engage more fully with the women’s movement and surrounding community. From here on out, my answer will always be the same: volunteer. It doesn’t have to be with FiLiA – though all women are welcome and appreciated, and you will find much fulfilment here. Choose a feminist cause that is dear to your heart, find like-minded women, and work with them to change society.
FiLiA isn’t just a conference that I attend once a year, or a meeting I go to on a Tuesday evening. Being part of this volunteer collective has become an integral part of my life; a community that shapes my day-to-day experiences for the better.
I have grown in confidence and capability through the support of these women. With them I inhabit a world that is rich in feminist possibilities. We build ways of being – models of communication, decision-making, and leadership – outside of the standards set by white supremacist capitalist patriarchy. We find ways of weaving feminist politics into all kinds of decisions.
Belonging isn’t something I can ever take for granted, as a Black biracial woman living in a very white country. But I fit with the FiLiA team. Nobody expects me to bring only parts of myself or my politics to the team; there is room for me to wholly inhabit a place in the group. I try to hold space for these women, and trust them to do the same in return. I feel safe with these women; I feel part of a sisterhood. And for that I am profoundly grateful.