PeaceTalks Radio
Resist and Retreat Transcript
In recent years, the political climate has become more and more hostile to certain groups of people.
What do you do when you are targeted for erasure? How long do you fight? When do you flee? Legislation was increasingly hitting harder and harder. Additional bills every year targeting our community, theLGBTQ community and a lot of those bills would fail to pass. I mean, they were clearly unconstitutional. But they started really getting traction.
As the country grows increasingly polarized, many people are moving to states where local politics align with their beliefs but for people whose health care and physical safety are on the line, the decision to leave goes beyond politics.
If we could see what was coming, if that we understood what was coming, that by leaving, we would give other people permission to leave. Today on Peace Talks Radio, we explore what it takes to leave a place that can no longer be home and what it looks like to start over again.
This is Peace Talks Radio, the radio series and podcast on peacemaking and nonviolent conflict resolution. I'm Jessica Ticktin, in for series producer Paul Ingles, today with correspondent Anna Van Dine. What do you do when your home is no longer safe? What does it look like to uproot in search of a new place?
And how do you begin to build a new home? This is a story about two people's lives, but it's also a story about peace and conflict resolution. The strategies we choose when faced with violence. Do we stay or leave, fight or flight, resist or retreat? This is a story about love and loss, but also of hope and finding peace.
On today's Peace Talks Radio, correspondent Anna Van Dine visits with a couple who moved more than a thousand miles to do just that.
On a Sunday morning in the heart of summer, I pull into the driveway of a big white farmhouse in southern Vermont. Jeannie Alexander greets me at the door.
Hi! Hi! Good morning! Come on in! Good morning! Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you too. We've got a little spider here. Oh my god. He's doing his job. Hi. I'm sorry.
I enter into their kitchen, which is spacious, with walls painted warm red and yellow. There's art everywhere. Posters and mirrors.Wreaths and talismans. This is a beautiful house.
Oh my gosh. Thank you. Yeah, we've done so much in one year.Like, everything was like this. It's kind of like awful, kind of hospital like.And so we've been working on the house and working on the land and yeah, we got it. Hi, good morning!
Jeannie's wife, Alaina, comes into the kitchen. The 38 year old's long brown hair is pulled back into a bun, and she's wearing a pearl necklace and glasses. 52 year old Jeannie's hair is cut short in a bob. Both of them have red lipstick on. Alaina andJeannie are ordained clergy and community organizers, with a background in prison reform, ecological stewardship, and human rights. They describe themselves as earth and community cultivators, activists, abolitionists, writers, and lovers of all things holy and wild.
They've been living in this house in Vermont for just over a year now, after leaving Tennessee when it became untenable for Alaina to exist as a trans woman there. Uh huh. The three of us settle at the kitchen table to talk about what led up to the decision to leave, what it took to make it, and how they're settling into their new life.
I wonder if we can go back in time and place a little bitand if you could describe for me your home in Tennessee. What that looked like, what the house was like, what the backyard was like. Take, take us back there.
I could totally do that. I'm going to totally get sad. What in the world? You think I could talk about this right now? I don't even know why I'm being so sad. Um, it was this beautiful house. It was built in like 1918 or something. And, and upstairs, and then a fireplace. Abasement that we had finished with a lot of community help. It was very much a community house, like our homes always have been. Like, so many people had keys to our house, which is usually not locked anyway.
And like, the creation of that place really was a community effort. So it was this beautiful, sort of, plain, sort of glossy black color on the outside with gorgeous trim and like, a really neat, Iron spiral staircase connecting the downstairs and upstairs.And it was a place for meetings, like services every Friday night and then community meetings all through the week.
And it was comfortable and it smelled good because Alaina and I are both avid cooks and we're always cooking stuff and like feeding, like we feed some, like, it's just, we do it. And so there's always, it's like a place where we would come home and there would be people on the porch hanging out and people could come and just be present.
Whether there was something scheduled to be happening or not, and there were chickens, yeah, lots of chickens, and they were pretty great. And one of them was definitely a pet, Leghorn, my rooster. And then cats everywhere, and the gardens were wild. It's just tons of sunflowers and tomato vines covering the front porch, and the front porch was this great porch, and everyone was always on the front porch.
And then we grew every kind of vegetable you could imagine, and then there was like an orchard spread out across the property, and we had everything. Apples and elderberries and cherries and figs and mulberries and oh my God, it just like sort of went on and on and blueberries and raspberries and black walnut trees.
And on the outside we had the lights on the front porch, no longer a fence. And so at night it just always glowed gold and it was just an invitation, a constant invitation. And it was. Beautiful home. Alaina, could you talk a little bit about the people who gathered there and what your community was like?
Ugh. Our community was so beautiful and vibrant and diverse and The community is really one of the things that drew me in. I mean, I had started organizing alongside Jeannie beforehand, before, you know, coming to the house. And then we were working together with thePoor People's Campaign in Tennessee.
And that was when I first sort of was introduced to the community was when we were working together. And. It was vibrant and, and beautiful and, and still is. I think that's one of the magic things about it.It's people from such different backgrounds across different age groups, across different systems of belief and, and understandings of themselves, but who all care and who all love and do so deeply.
Um, it was just, It was beautiful and I loved, I loved how much, how much joy, how much compassion, how much care there was. Yeah, I think about trying to describe the people. I think that's really important, very much intergenerational, multiracial, and for everyone from a radical fairy animist to, you know like lifelong Catholics and so that gives you a pretty broad range and a lot of things in between Yeah, and and people who are Drawn together I think by a commitment to believe that that everyone's future Salvation and liberation is tied together and it's born through community and a commitment to figuring out what it meant to be Sustainable and to flourish and to live into abundance Even in really difficult political times, still proceeding with joy and still leaning into this strong belief that there is enough and there will be enough.
Yeah. And to try to figure out how to create that and weave it and celebrate it in each other. Our community was communion, you know, it was, it was partaking of each other. AndI think that's what was so beautiful about it. I'm also hearing a hint at a love story between the two of you. Oh yeah! Um, how did you meet and how did you come to form a partnership?
So the way we met was through community organizing. It was very close on the hills of Charlottesville and And, like, far right white supremacists across a range of different organizations were rallying in Shelbyville and Murfreesboro, Tennessee. And there, and there was a speech. very strong community response in opposition to that.
So there was some really great community organizing that happened that we were part of. And we were both working through a group of women of faith in opposition to white supremacists. So we met basically fighting Nazis. And then, again, we began working together in the Poor People's Campaign, during which time we definitely fell in love.
Yeah, and I think it's like when, oh god, I guess it was a shareholders meeting, I got arrested at CoreCivic, and like, Covered in fake blood, being carried away, and I think that's it. She was smitten. She was all over with. She was like, that is the woman for me. Um, it's true. I'm sure that's what happened.
Yeah, you learn a lot about a person when you're arrested together. And we were arrested together.Like ten times. Like ten times in one summer. But through a year, well, who knows how many times total, but, um, doing the work and having so much trust, it doesn't help that she was beautiful. And still is. Um, but doing that work, having that trust.
And having so much understanding that was coming from a background built on, on faith, on faith in people and humanity and, and that there was something worth fighting for. And it was this idea of interdependence, liberation and interdependence, I think is, is really the heart of, of, of our activism.And it was beautiful to meet somebody else who understood it and was willing to fight for it.
As much as Jeannie and Alaina loved their home and their community, there came a time when they began to think about leaving it behind.This wasn't an easy decision to make, but the political climate in Tennessee was becoming increasingly hostile. In recent years, the number of anti LGBTQ bills in state legislatures around the country has skyrocketed, especially in red states like Tennessee.
These bills have targeted trans rights in particular. Beginning in 2020, according to Human RightsWatch, these pieces of legislation began to increase in number and in scope.They went from a handful of proposals to an onslaught of bills that passed quickly into law. These bills seek to chip away at everything from health care to trans people's rights to participate in civic life.
I'm hearing about what the two of you were involved in, and your community, and your home, and now you're here. When did you first begin to feel, like, genuinely concerned? Was there a particular day or a period? or what, when did that start to change? So I lived in Nashville for 17 years. And during that time I had worked as clergy and through nonprofits doing out reach to folks who were experiencing homelessness.
And then also within the prison system and co-founded a couple of nonprofits. And then one that focused on sort of prison abolition, prison reform work. That's what I was doing for about the past 10 years, the past decade. And that required a lot of policy work at the Capitol. And as I was doing work in that area, began working on legislation that was increasingly hitting harder and harder, the additional bills every year targeting our community, the LGBTQ community and every year we thought, this, this is absurd. And a lot of those bills would fail to pass. I mean, they were clearly unconstitutional, but they started really getting traction and I think it really started to change after Trump was elected and watching the legislature throughout these years, then into 20, 21, when the bills just became increasingly hostile and cruel and targeting with a clear end goal of erasing trans lives.
Nationally, the number of anti-trans bills doubled between2020 and 2021, according to the Anti Trans Legislation Tracker. Since then,that number has gone up every year. While conservative legislators were introducing laws to increasingly restrict trans people's rights and visibility, more extreme right-wing factions have been committing acts of violence.
White nationalists have targeted Pride events and the ProudBoys have crashed Drag Queen story hours. There have been bomb threats made towards schools, libraries, and hospitals. In 2022, data from the FBI's annual crime report showed the highest number of anti LGBTQ hate crimes reported to date. The Human Rights Campaign reportsthat nearly one fifth of hate crimes are now motivated by anti LGBTQ bias, with an increase in incidents involving trans people.
And I think there were some lines in the sand for us.
I've heard people talk about, since 2020, and sort of comparing what's happening in this country to the 1960s, and Elaine and I have been firmly on the same page, it's like, no, this is the 1930s in Europe, like,this is what the rise of fascism looks like. And the question is, when you know you're in a fascist state,how long do you stay?
And at what point in time do you reach a point when you can resist? More effectively by saving yourself first. And so I think the most radical thing Alaina ever did was save herself first.
You're listening to Peace Talks Radio, correspondent, AnnaVan Dyne is speaking with Alaina and her wife, Jeannie, who lived in Tennessee for many years, but as the political climate has shifted, it became untenable for Alaina to exist as a trans woman there. In 2023, the couple made the difficult decision to uproot from their community and relocate to Southern Vermont.
Yeah, so if you look over, over here, that's our ancestor's altar and it has people on it who have passed who are family or community members or the family of community members or just people who are important to us. Just to describe it visually, so it's like up on the wall, there's a shelf filled with framed photographs.
And um, down here near the end, there's, there's three women and they're up there for me.Um, sorry, give me just a second.
Those are three women that, uh, lived in Weimar, Germany.They're, um, three trans women. And lived around and, and were treated at the Institute for Sex Research, Magnus Hirschfeld Institute, it's also called. And Dora, the one in the middle there,Dora Richter, she was actually the first trans woman to receive a vaginoplasty.
There's this very evocative photo that, that goes around of the Nazis burning books. Um, huge pile of books and you see the, the Nazis throwing them into the pile. What a lot of people don't realize is that, that pile of books was the library for the, for that institute. Um, and DoraRichter was killed that night in the library.
We think, we're not exactly sure where she was killed, but, And so the other two women in thepicture are, uh, Charlotte and Tony, who were in a relationship, but were broken apart by the Holocaust and had to flee Weimar, Germany, and they both lived a much longer life because of their decision to flee, but hey had to live apart and, uh, definitely understanding their story and understanding the history that, uh, Transpeople in the United States have inherited from other trans people.
It was a factor in deciding when to go.
This is Peace Talks Radio. You're listening to an interview with Jeannie and Alaina Alexander, who lived in Tennessee for many years. They loved it there. They had a beautiful home, an abundant garden, and a strong community. But as the political climate has shifted, it became untenable for Alaina to exist as a trans woman in Tennessee.
So in 2023, they made the difficult decision to uproot from their community and relocate to southern Vermont. Vermont, unlike Tennessee, is characterized by more liberal politics. For example, in the spring of 2023, the state'sRepublican governor signed a bill into law protecting abortion access and gender affirming care.
Meanwhile, in Tennessee, the governor signed into law a total ban on gender affirming health care for trans youth. At that time when you started considering leaving Tennessee. What were the conversations between the two of you like? I feel like we had a lot of those conversations at night, downstairs, when we were alone.
And at times we could find early morning sometimes alone. We had conversations with the broader community later, but we really felt like the two of us needed to determine, is this really where we're headed? And where? Like, the decision to Being inVermont was very intentional. Yeah. Yeah. Leaving was not reactionary at all.
It was very painful, very difficult, very thoughtful, with a lot of research. And also trying to make sure that we were seeing what we thought we were seeing. That we weren't just seeing a trend to the right that would then go basically course correct over the series of a couple of elections. And we're both really good researchers, I think, and system thinkers and conversations were about the fact that we were very sure that what we are seeing and what's happening is balkanization in this country and we don't believe, didn't believe that any one election was probably going to change that. And that if you look at the patterns, which I think are really clear within fascist systems, there are three very common targets. That's immigrants, Jews, and queer and trans people. It just repeats.And that was very clear here.
And so knowing the history and, and the history ofGermany and specifically that Alaina just talked about, we did not want to end up in a position where we were separated in some way. We don't want to end up in a position where Alaina is in Canada and I am here like doing a resistance work here. And so the conversation was, became about finding the safest place we could in this country. Like looking at data and not just current and past political projections, but future political trends, thinking about climate change. And so like, it was like a multi layered analysis and thinking about like, where, where could we take our homesteading to, to the next level?
Where's a place we could live that is already focused on food sovereignty. and that is already welcoming of people who are internally displaced. And so that's, that's really how the conversations were focusing. And like also that was the planning and then also the very real, um, heartbreak.
I think there was a lot of guilt for me feeling like I was pulling a community apart.
The decision to survive is often a tough one. Giving up is, is so much easier. Or, or just, just deciding that, you know, you'll just take whatever comes, come what may.Really, one of the things that factored into our decision and, and made it so that we could Or at least that I could move forward was realizing that I still had responsibility to my community, to our community, that if we could see what was coming, if that we understood what was coming, that by leaving, we would give other people permission to leave.
And the other thing is that we could prepare a way forward for other people, um, that we would have space for other people, that we would Make a, make a path. I mean, there's a lot of talk in, in the queer community and especially in the trans community of this sort of, you know, underground rainbow railroad of getting people away from places where it's no longer safe.
This Rainbow Railroad Alaina's referring to is a series of networks of LGBTQ activists and allies. They work to help members of the LGBTQ community move to safer places. The name harkens back to the UndergroundRailroad, a network of activists who helped Black people escape enslavement in the 19th century.
Jeanne and Alaina say they've hosted many queer refugees at their new home over the past year. The first person came to stay with them shortly after they moved. And being able to provide a space for people to, to land, even if it's just to look for housing and try and figure out if, if this is the place for them has been a huge balm to the, to the hard journey of ,of, of deciding to uproot our entire lives.
Well, what I'm hearing you talking about is how leaving itself was an act of rebellion. You, you fought for so long where you were. And then what fighting looked like had to change? Yeah, I think so. I remember testifying in a committee against a bill, again, targeting trans people. And a lot of the, and with good reason, a lot of the focus I think nationally has been on bills that target trans youth and their families and the ability to make decisions that are right for them. But there are also bills that are broader that would through, that would definitionally erase the existence of trans people in Tennessee, that, that would go after healthcare, not just for youth, but adults as well. And would, would basically define people in such a way that their very existence was profane and illegal and would make it dangerous for trans people.
To go to a bathroom, to be in public around children. Like,I mean, it was just like, and testifying in this committee and seeing the response from the legislators wasn't. Wait a minute, I am actually listening to this, and my god, are we following in the footsteps ofNazis. Anger, just such anger, and like yelling at us, and condemning us for saying such things, and threatening to cutoff microphones during the appropriate time to testify, and then doubling down right, and at that point, then I think rebellion is realizing Being realistic, it doesn't matter if you live in a quote unquote liberal city if you're in a fascist state and that it's the state law that will ultimately determine who is targeted and if you have a Progressive DA for example who says they won't enforce such laws It doesn't matter when the state legislature passes laws that give them the ability to remove any district attorney They want and put in a special counsel And yeah, and that is what, and that, that changed what rebellion looked like to us, what resistance looked like.
And as it became much more grim, I think the situation, we knew that eventually we would have to leave because there needs to be a way to help people, other people leave as well. And I think we both recognize that having been active in the Tennessee community for a number of years, and we're very well known as organizers.
If we were able to say, we can leave and you can too, I think it gave a lot of About a week after we arrived, um, so I received my, my medical care atVanderbilt at, at the clinic that then released the, the names and the medical information for trans people to the state DA. No warning, no, no pushback, just gave the DA all of our information, which was terrifying.
But at that point, I was here. Uh, I'd only been here a week, but it was this moment of realization that we made the right choice.
That was correspondent Anna Van Dyne with Alaina and JeannieAlexander. Alaina and Jeannie leftTennessee in the spring of 2023. They traveled more than a thousand miles to their new home in Vermont. In part two of our program coming up. We'll hear what it was like for them to arrive in this new place and how they've been putting down roots there.
You can find both parts of this program at our website, peacetalksradio. com, as well as all of the programs in our series dating back to 2002. This is where you can see photos of our guests, read and share transcripts, and sign up for our podcast.Look for season 22, episode 10. There's much more detail on all of our shows, as well as a donate button where you can become a peace leader by supporting the nonprofit work we're doing atpeacetalksradio.com. Help if you can. Hope you'll join us for more in a moment. For correspondent Anna VanDyne, I'm Jessica Ticktin, in for series producer, Paul Ingles. Thanks for listening to and for supporting Peace TalksRadio. Stay tuned. More after this in a moment.
You're listening to Peace Talks Radio, the radio series and podcast on peacemaking and nonviolent conflict resolution. I'm Jessica Ticktin, in for series producer, Paul Ingles. Today we're visiting a farmhouse in Southern Vermont, where correspondent Anna Van Dine is visiting with Jeannie and Alaina Alexander.
The couple moved to Vermont from Tennessee in 2023, as Alaina's safety as a trans woman was increasingly in jeopardy. Together, they made the difficult decision to leave their home and their community behind and build a life in a safer place. Alaina andJeannie are ordained clergy and community organizers with a background in prison reform, ecological stewardship, and human rights.
They named their new home Earthfire Abbey and have created a space for anyone who needs a place to stay. They have had many trans refugees spend time there over the past year. But before any of this could happen, they needed a place to go. We pick back up with Jeannie telling our correspondent Anna Van Dine the story of how they found their new home.
Massachusetts was a possibility, but if getting a house large enough to support community and some land to farm was way out of our budget, even with selling a house in Nashville, it was like, well, that was not possible. I'm St. New York. We, there were some places we looked at we loved, but then also looking at the politics of rural New York, we were like, we aren't going to move to one place just to have to move.
And then Vermont, we began looking here in earnest and it took us probably eight months almost to find the right place. And this house was the very first place that we looked at. And the first time we saw it, remember it looked pretty different. And we're both really good at seeing the bones of a place.
We were like, there's something magical here. And the, and the pasture out there was really beautiful. But it was like, ah, do we really want to take this on? And that was like 2022, like October. So we kept looking and we get to like April of 2023 and we put our house in the Like we were getting to the point where it's like, Are we gonna be homeless?
Like, what are we, like, seriously, it was really scary. And we're like, and we've looked at all these different places, and there's alway some reason why it wasn't quite right. Or just out of reach financially, or something. And, we decided to come back in April. So we looked at it one last time. And we walked through, and we're like, this is it. And had a couple of conversations and we were able to make it work, but it was our first place and our last place to look at and finally landed back when it's definitely become home now. And our first week here was just like. Oh, I don't know. Like really beautiful and surreal and hard and complicated.
Like, I can't even speak like the layers of emotions. It was like, it felt like home at a time when another place also still felt like home. Well, I guess for me, it was very much a, like, Oh, well now we got to get to work. You know, like we had just been through this major, like move, maybe all this sort of stuff. And my first thought was, Oh, I got a lot of stuff to do. And we had our first trans refugee come up then what a week later, like to stay with us.
And we had, we still had every, like most stuff in boxes, but we. You know, a dear friend who needed to get out. And so, that was, that was, it was like, time to get to work. And then, Alaina commenced to converting one of the barns in the back, for additional space, for like, whatever we need, community meeting space, what have you, place for someone to stay.
So she's doing that full time. And then I got involved with the conservation district, and with local farmers. And like, Okay, I need to learn how to do a lot more than just raise chickens and put myself into that. And I don't know. It's been, we've gotten very involved with the community in a year and bringing another community up and figuring out how to work with our land.
I had to farm regeneratively. Like, it's, it's, it's crazy making. Like, I, it's, I'm happy and it's good and it's really good work. And also, I wake up in the middle of the night fairly often at 2 or 3 a. m. And I'm just like, boing, awake. And then I'm like going through all the things that we need to do. And like, what does it look like to do this?
And oh my god, we have a few steps to take. But, it's really, it's, it's possible when I wakeup. next to Alaina and We look at each other and we're like, oh, yeah, we're we're still doing this thing Yeah, I always would have considered myself a bit more indoorsy and so The switch has been a little jarring, but, but beautiful inits own way.
I didn't ever want to learn how to fix a tractor, but I've learned how to fix a tractor, you know, but it's part of the work, you know, everything becomes a little bit easier when you remember that it's part of this whole vision. And it's really the vision that's driven us forward. And I think having, sharing that vision with somebody who understands it and shares it with you.
makes it so much lighter. Uh, shared load is so much lighter. What is the vision? What are you making this place?
What, like, how would you explain this place to some person who might be listening, you know, catch this on the radio. How would you explain what it is that you're building?
Well, I think part of it is, is when we were looking at, you know, what to call this place and what, what to, what to embody. We settled on Earthfire Abbey because we looked at what worked in the past when we were going through climate crises and what worked in the past when we were going through political upheaval and social upheaval and economic upheaval and, and all the things that come with collapse.
And what got people through was these tight knit communities built around, a shared understanding of what your ethic is, a shared understanding of what your values are. And those were found in, in abbeys in monasteries. And like that would keep small rural communities going a lot of times and be a center of learning and understanding and progress. And we didn't have to, you know, have the rule of St. Benedict, but what we could have is a shared community that meets, that understands each other, that understands. what it is to,to live together and form these tight bonds and also understands what it is to,to work the earth, to be grounded in it, to be grounded in the seasons, to be producing and feeding our community, not just spiritually, but physically.
I mean, we feed so many people here and we did that inTennessee, but we did it differently. We did it on a smaller scale and we wanted to take this chance and really ramp up to be, to live into the idea of the Abbey. I also think it's really important that this space is organized as a church, because I think there are so many examples in the reality of what church looks like, or religion in America today can be very damning and inhospitable to any human.
Like there's so much trauma for so many people wrapped up and the very notion of God and the notion of any sort of like religious community to be able to say that trauma and that sort of hate. That's become so associated with the Christian right and that is like so dominating the political landscape and in particular areas of this country that it's also a form of resistance to say you do not define religion, you do not define what church is much less what is holy. Like this is a sacred space for us. This is holy ground. And we have Friday night services, Friday night meetings at seven. And we, that is something we've carried forward from Tennessee. It's something that actually began as part of what I was doing as a chaplain in a maximum security prison.
It's been like Friday nights became that point in service.And so it's something that has a long history for us. And that is part of it, that coming together in a very intentional, contemplative way. Working out our own liturgy of the year, informed by our own experiences in different traditions. And in Earthfireabbey, there are people who come here to stay, who we offer hospitality to.
There will be some people who will stay longer, maybe permanently, or maybe they'll decide not to.
As those who canleave red states do so, what What responsibility do they have to those who can't? And how do you to conceive of or bear that responsibility? What does that look like here? So I think your first responsibility is toput your own oxygen mask on first, right?
And if you can leave to do so. And, and don't feel like you have to take on the entire world or everyone who necessarily needs to get out because you're important. Like if your life and your ability to leave, if it's just you, that's fantastic because you've done it right. That's important. I think for those of us who are community leaders specifically, who have spent time doing that work, who've spent time building those relationships, putting our money where our mouth is, is pretty important. But I'm not going to say that like every person who can get out and take somebody on has to get out, live a beautiful life, you know, be that, that, that gives, gives the next generation hope. But for those of us who, who have taken up the role of leadership, I think if you can, And you can provide a way for other people to, to leave. Then it's, it's very important. Am I going to say that everyone has to do that? No. Like there's so many different things that we need as a community, but I think it's a very important role and one that needs filled. I think it's understanding that it's not incumbent upon any individual or one community to find a way to help people who financially or otherwise cannot leave.
We have to work in a way that's interdependent with other groups and other affinity groups and other congregations and communities and households to help people move. It's a whole commitment. It's a whole ethic shared by people who aren't even necessarily in the same community but hold the same values and belief systems of inherent dignity and a right to exist without fear. So I think that we bear that responsibility in a very clear eyed way. And also very clear about the fact,I am anyway, that God is God and I am not. And I don't have the ego. I just don't support the belief that success or failure, people, um, escaping or not, people being able to flourish or not, is dependent on my shoulders.
Like, I think that humans have an amazing capacity to create great change, like any single human. And even more so as a community. And I'm also under no illusion that I'm a part of it. But I am going to make that change for everyone. And so, creating a space where people can come and can be, and breathe, and find where they feel most comfortable and safe, that's enough.
Like at some point in time you have to say to yourself, it is enough to be here, and to be this. It is enough. to become farmers on a small space and feed whoever we can. It is enough to create a living community rooted in shared values and principles. And this one spot, small spot in Southern Vermont, it is enough.
You both are describing this place that you've arrived at, that you have made into your, your place. What does home mean to each of you? For me, it is something that you carry within you that connects directly to other people in a space. It's are cognition. There's like an internal spiritual recognition of a place that I step into and I can, it It breathes, it smells home to me, it feels it.
There's a way that I don't have to be on that I can rest. Like, there's a lot of work here, but to genuinely rest, you know, to just hold your spirit in a state of pause.That, that place, a place where you know that you will be fed. And cared for.And so I believe that you can experience home in multiple places.
That's my experience of life. And so when I think of home, I want us to be, and to co create with each other and others that space where people can come to where we can come to and rest. A place where we can come and be creative, where we can speak freely without fear of being censored or without fear of being attacked, without fear, like where we can be honest in our growth, where we will be held if we fail at something and home is, I don't know, it has a smell.
It has a light. I don't know. I think for the most part, people use the word home and what they mean is mutual belonging, right? I agree. Like, I belong to this place, or these people, or this time, or whatever, whatever it is, I belong, and they belong to me. And so yeah, home is definitely something you can carry with you, and it can also definitely be a place.
Yeah. But what it's about is belonging, mutual belonging. This is Peace Talks Radio. Since arriving in Vermont, Jeannie and Alaina have turned to the land for a sense of rootedness. They've gotten to know the plants and the streams and trees on their property. They've grown a garden and are planning an even bigger one for next year.
They're starting to learn what it looks like to rebuild after leaving everything behind, and they're determined to be resilient. How do you ground yourselves here? What makes you feel connected to this place? I think the direct work. So I'm working like with animals on the land or growing vegetables on the land, having community gatherings here.
Every time you're like putting your, mingling your energy with the energy of the house, the energy of the earth itself, and inviting, other people to do that. So having other people here work with us planting trees, like it's all very grounding. Like the work itself is just kind of inherently grounding.
We've cultivated a space. I think both of us and You know, our community in general has cultivated a space of such beauty. And I look around, I see so many gifts from people in the community and, and so much that we've cultivated ourselves of making this home beautiful and warm.And I need the space to be something lovely and beautiful and something to comeback to.
And I love working on it. Like I, I love doing the renovations. I love working on turning that barn into more space to live in. I love that because I'm a nester. And so like being able to do that on a, on a large scale. Yeah. The work for me inside the house is more grounding. Yeah.It's, it's funny because we're, we have such different and complimentary skills.
And so. It's nice to see her be able to work with the animals and work with the, with the crops and, and get her hands in the soil. And it's nice for me to be able to work on the house and work on building and renovating it and making space for more people. It's, it's beautiful because what makes us feel whole and human is here for us.
I'm curious, now that you've lived in Vermont for over a year, what your level of safety feels like?
It feels radically different. That's very. I didn't quite believe it before we moved and, and I definitely felt much more safe when we were traveling and trying to find the place to move. And there were places where I felt much more at home, much more safe than Tennessee.
But it's really, it's been night and day. And it's been night and day in, in my ability to just feel safe. comfortable and at peace and like I can just make connections with people in the community and not worry.It's a very odd life to live when you, you know, I remember multiple times in Tennessee, I'd be walking through the grocery store andI'd have this sudden sort of moment where I thought the majority of the people in this place don't want me to exist.
In any given space, because from the way that, that people vote from the way that people make themselves heard, that was true. So to go from a place where you feel like you're not wanted and not only are you not wanted, but your existence isn't wanted to a place where you're just part of the community is wildly different.
And. Sometimes I don't believe it exists. Sometimes I have a hard time resting in that, but wow, it's been good for my mental health.It's been good for my everyday health. Yeah. Yeah. I wanted to ask it, has it been healing to be here? And if so, what's that been like? It's definitely been a process of healing.
I think, All healing is growth, right? And, and it's, is it's, it's amending. And so I think it's something that, that, that takes time. And I think during this year I've definitely changed and, and, you know, welcomed it. And so,
I definitely feel like there's a weight off of my shoulders that I didn't even realize how much I was carrying. Have you felt that as well? Have you had a different experience of being here? I It's different in that I'm cis, but it's been so different and amazing in that if Alaina goes to the grocery store alone, I'm not worried.
If she's been gone too long, if I text and she doesn't text back, I'm not, you know, I'm not really concerned about what's going on. Rather not something horrible has happened to her. That's been amazing. Like that kind of relief from just a constant existential dread, right? That, that someone who means so much to you, something could happen to them any moment, and you may not be able to do anything about it.
That's been, oh myGod, that has been, relief doesn't even begin to describe it. It's just been so. Healing, I think to use your words. And it's, I fell in love with Vermont years ago when I was at law school in Ithaca. And thought, God, it would be amazing to live in the magical land of Vermont. And that, that never happened.
I ended up in large Southern cities or, you know, 20 plus years and to have come back to that longing and desire. And then these circumstances has just been wild. Like if there's a place where your heart wanted to be and you long to be, and then something happens and you think it won't ever, and then all of a sudden it's out of something terrible, something beautiful occurs.
That's like, that's the way that I think about the concept of grace, right? It's not that grace doesn't mean that. Terrible things won't happen to you and that you won't be hurt and wrecked by life sometimes. But it means that despite that, that there is room for beauty and change and something wonderful.
What do you think people could learn from your experience?People who have been in situations similar to yours or anybody who is, um, Facing a situation that is becoming untenable in, in which they are unsafe. What would you want to tell them?
Hmm. I mean, I guessI'd echo earlier is that to take care of yourself, to, to, you know, put on your own oxygen mask first and try and find a way, but also I would say that, um, It's okay to dream big about what your future can look like if you're willing to have your dreams carried by your community.
You're made to be in community. And so find that even though sometimes it's hard and trusting is hard and risking it is hard, find that and it will make everything easier and or.If not easier, it will, it will grow you and change you in a way that, that different things are possible. Yeah. I think that recognizing that if youare in a place where you are trying to survive and you want to be in a place where you can thrive and you're trying to understand how to get there, you're trying to.
Find a path forward that even if you're in a space where you are currently filled with anxiety, and it seems so hard because, oh my God, our last year in Tennessee, I thought there were times I thought I'm going to die.Like I can't, like we were so full of anxiety and not just like from what was happening within the state legislature and on the ground, but like, This very move, like working through it emotionally, working through the physically and everything like when you, if you're in that state and even when it feels that hard, that isn't necessarily an indication, okay, I can't do this.
It's too big. Having the courage to keep moving forward when it seems too much, that doesn't mean you don't have fear. I don't think that courage is about not having fear. It's about recognizing that there is fear and anxiety and you still believe in something. else, you still believe that there is a way forward and finding the faith to do that, whether that is faith in your, yourself and your own ability, faith in your community, faith in yourGod, whatever that is.
It's been a huge lesson for me that yeah, when things seem too much sometimes, and you feel like you're going to break, even if you do, you can still find ways to move forward.
I would like to finish this conversation with you to bring me to a place inside or outside your home that is special to the two of you. Whether it's a room or a painting or a tree,um, bring me somewhere that is holy to the two of you and feels like home. For me, the place that I think I go to when I want to see and feel that sort of holiness is, is up at the top of the, like right beyond the grove at the top of the, uh, pasture, like, and being able to look out and look on the mountains and see, yeah, see the, the shadow of the clouds on the mountains is, is like.
That's holy to me. Yeah, I think that's holy to both of us.You want to take a look? Yeah, sure, let's do it. We get up from the table and head out the back door.
We walk through a grove of trees and up a small hill to a clearing. We stand with our backs to the trees. So this is like a little over four and a half acres right here, and our land goes until it reaches the river.And so it's, it's hugged by a ridge on one side, this beautiful ridge of this, this hill, and then it's bounded on the other sides by a, uh, It looks more like a river in the back, actually.
It goes, it goes across probably about 10 feet of running water, and then comes down into the, into a little bit more marshy area by our house. But it's, it's just alive and it sparkles. For a radio audience, can you describe where we are and what we're looking at? So we are nestled between two different mountain ranges and sort of coming up on a third, but in front of us is the Taconics and behind of us is the Green Mountains.
And then the Berkshires are just that way, or just to the south. And so we sit in this beautiful little river valley and on the other side of the river. Is the Taconics and we can see it from anywhere on the property. It's just covered in deciduous forest and pine forest and it's gorgeous. It's green and verdant and full of so much life.
And every day I just watch the clouds move across it. And our window faces this mountain range right here. And so every morning I wake up and I just take time drinking coffee and watching the mountain. And there's something about that that's just,I don't know. It's so important to my well being. It's so important to my like spiritual practice, just taking time and looking at the mountain.
What a place to get to call home. Yeah.
That was correspondent Anna Van Dine with Alaina and JeannieAlexander. You can see photos of them and their mountain view at peacetalksradio. com. You can sign up for our podcasts and make a donation to keep this program going into the future. All at peacetalksradio.com. Support comes from listeners like you.
Also the Albuquerque Community Foundation Ties Fund. Support too from KUNM at the University of New Mexico. Nola Daves Moses is our executive director. Ali Adelman composed and performs our theme music for correspondent, for Anna Van Dine, co founder, Suzanne Kryder and series producer, Paul Ingels. I'm Jessica Ticktin.
Thanks so much for listening to, and for supporting PeaceTalks Radio.
