How our Movements might Mirror Mycelium

| By Maymana Arefin |

As I write this now, there are genocides taking place in Palestine and Sudan; atrocities in Congo and in Haiti; an anti-LGBTQI bill passed in Ghana, another in Rwanda; climate catastrophes ravage the Earth while corporations cash in on the plundering of our homelands and arms companies profit from death and destruction. I find myself asking, where do we go from here? Between the heartbreak and the rage, the screaming with lungs raw in public places and grieving with beloved community, I have spent the past weeks and months looking to the natural world and our fungal ancestors for lessons.

Mycelium is the vegetative body of a fungus. Lying deep within the soil is a collection of thin, delicate threads called hyphae, which together, create vast mycelium networks across our forest floors. Mycelium are rooted but also expansive: they tunnel through the earth and travel huge distances in the soil, literally weaving them into connection.

I think we have a lot to learn from the ways of mycelium: this deep underground work that, only when the conditions are right, facilitate the growth of a mushroom — the visible, above-ground part of the fungus. To me, mycelium is the long-term, unglamorous, exhausting, consistent labour of love that is to commit oneself to a lifelong struggle. It is the work that gets us closer every day to liberation and toward abolishing the structures that oppress us. It is the direct action, the copwatch networks, the mutual aid groups, the local food-drives, the homeless shelters, the court support, the care work and the protest organising.

For a long time, humans were unaware of the role of fungi and their mycelium in caretaking of the soil. Invisibilised, like so many other realms of care work, the mycelium of mycorrhizal fungi, which connect with plant and tree roots, allow life to thrive and flourish. This teaches us that even in a hypercapitalist, self-obsessed world, fuelled by dopamine and instant gratification, the work of an activist is to continue in quiet determination (never mind what everyone else is paying attention to), believing that one day, the mushroom or fruits of this labour will come.

In reality, this may look like waking up burned out, aching after using your body as a shield, losing your voice after actions, shedding tears when you feel like none of it is enough. All of these are natural responses to the continuous trauma and horrors of surviving under white supremacy, racial capitalism and heteropatriarchy.

But learning from the mycelium, we must keep on reaching for each other in the darkness, knowing that all we really have in these times is each other.

Let us organise with determination, rooted in our convictions, rather than floundering, reactive or frenetic. May we sustain our long-term efforts, through the stops and starts, the soul exhaustion and the grief. May we continue to fight when no one is watching. Because to organise like a mycelium may be as simple as renewing our commitment each and every day to show up.