Kay Treakle changed my life and helped define my approach to activism. She was my mentor, my boss and eventually my good friend. I think about her all the time, I miss her, and I still find myself wanting her sage advice.
I first connected with her in the late-1990s. I was a 20-something working for Oxfam International in Maputo, Mozambique, where I was helping local organizations to challenge the role of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.
Kay already had decades of experience under her belt, including time on the ships and zodiacs that defined the early-days of Greenpeace. But in the late-90s she was in Washington, D.C., at an environmental organization called the Bank Information Centre.
I reached out to her and she eventually came down to Maputo to do a training for us on the inner workings of the World Bank.
One night while she was in Maputo she looked over at me and, completly out of the blue, said: “Why don’t you come to Washington and help us start an Africa program?”
I don’t remember what I said to her, but less than two years later I pulled into D.C. and proceeded to work for her for the next four years.
During my time in Washington she gave me all the space I needed to make my own mistakes and all the support I needed to thrive. She was always there for me but never took any of my shit.
I’m blessed to have learnt from a lot of great activists over the course of my life, but I hear her voice more than anyone:
– When I’m outraged and want to rush into a situation filled with righteous indignation I can hear her say: “you have to have the charts and graphs to back you up!!!”.
– When I get too focused on the urgency and importance of any one political arena, country, or opportunity, I hear her talking about solidarity and the importance of working to the needs of your partners.
– As an Executive Director, when I get too focused on building the organization that I’m immediately responsible for, I can hear her telling me that we need to be building a movement not an organization (we are are stronger together).
– When I’m worried that something is going to disrupt a delicate political relationship that I’ve built, I picture her on a zodiac in front of massive whaling ship and I’m reminded of the importance of symbolism, civil disobedience and direct action.
– And every time I try to sell a particular strategy as “the one and true way to make change”, I hear her reminding me that movements are like ecosystems (it takes a village) and change-making is about attacking a problem “with spears from all sides”.
There is no doubt that Kay had an edge (though she hid it better than I’ve ever been able to when dealing with troglodytes). You could tell that she was pissed-off about the social and environmental injustices that define our world. She was tough as nails, did not always suffer fools gladly and cursed like a sailor behind the scenes. But she had a Socratic approach to conversations (she always helped me think through an issue by drawing me out) and her edge always manifested as an unapologetic insistence on clear strategic thinking (she could help you turn your anger into a theory of change and strategy – and man did she ever love a clear and tight strategy, I’ve never met a better campaign strategist).
Finally, I remember her cackle. She loved to laugh and it came out of her like it was suddenly breaking through a dam. It kind of exploded and then lingered in a big smile that had a way of making you feel happy (even proud) that you’d somehow managed to make her laugh. Among many other things, Kay had a healthy appreciation for the absurd – which is one of the many reasons we got along so well.
Thanks Kay. I’ll be looking for you on the other side
Connected:
I worked for her and she was my friend
