This post is part of our series of blog entries based on our RMA students’ engagements with the Lutkemeerpolder. For a more general introduction to the series, click here.
Author: Lucienne Walstra
My original plan for this blog post was to discuss care on the Luktemeerpolder with a dear friend of mine who has volunteered at PLUK for over a year. Knowing a little bit about their experience and connections to the land and people there already, I wanted to delve deeper into their experiences with friendship on Luktemeerpolder and explore connection with others as a byproduct of the land. This would likely be a sweet glimpse into the experiences of a passionate plukker, however, things don’t always go as envisioned.
The past few months have been emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting as students protest against university ties to the genocide in Gaza. Last week, the friend I planned to chat with about Luktemeerpolder was arrested at a peaceful demonstration and spent two nights in jail. After considering their needs, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask them to reschedule and burden them with a university assignment. Instead, I gave them space and offered friendship in the form of listening, food, touch, time, or laughter.
I was left without a concept for this blog post. I felt stuck while thinking about care on/at Luktemeerpolder because my connection to the land is very young – a mere glimmer – and because my heart and head have been elsewhere. Featuring my dear friend and their glowing, clear connection was a promising route, but I found the road was blocked. The blockage, however, was not coming from them, but from my care for them, knowing that it was not the right moment to ask for their attention, resources, or time.
Then it clicked – I realized I could still write about friendship and care. Witnessing their experiences and feeling the weight of these months myself inspired me to think more about activist movements, such as the movement surrounding Luktemeerpolder, and their tie to care. Care is fluid and buoyant: it can be displaced, it can shift. Some care develops over time, and sometimes care lessens. Some forms of care are a priority over others – some things warrant care but are lacking. Sometimes care expands in unexpected places. Some care is not reciprocated. Sometimes care is given so that care can be given elsewhere.
Throughout these months of protesting, I’ve learned about this vital and robust care that motivates the important work of people like my dear friend. My care for them, in whatever form, fills them up so they can give their care back to me or share it with those in need. It is precisely this care that supports their continuing action against the genocide; it is this kind of care that supports the people of Red Ons Groen to continue fighting against the destruction of Luktemeerpolder.
I see clearly how care between friends is a vital ingredient for action and what role care plays beyond interpersonal connection. When care is shared between individuals, care for Palestinian people and a plot of land in Amsterdam can emerge to create larger, coexisting movements. Care should not be underestimated or written off; it is a powerful tool of support, motivation, and reinforcement.
This discussion of care is only a sprout of an idea, one that is going to grow now that I’ve had the time to think it over. As I look forward, I want to learn to nourish this care for the movements I support, like those surrounding Luktemeerpolder, to discover the extent of its reach. Thinking about the fluidity of care and its role in friendships, I feel my connection to Luktemeerpolder is growing beyond a small glimmer as I connect to the land both individually and through my friend who holds it close to their heart.
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