I am a Blackberry: Pondering on Ecological Forms of Resistance and Resilience
By Halley Sherwood
Listen to the audio version of the piece below.
I am a blackberry My sweetness tempting, taunting, daring anyone who thinks themselves brave enough to wade through a sea of thorns in the hopes of plucking me from the vine It would take the right one at the right time to coax me into their hand Anyone else might find me bitter or falling apart I will forever resist Any attempts to excommunicate my strength and abundance I grow back stronger each time I am cut down The best of me will always be just out of reach unable to be grasped by man for I am a full participant in this life and at the end of the day I am merely an offering to the soil You won’t forget my taste although you may forget just how sweet You will smell me on the summer breeze and return to places you know I’ve been in search of a fond memory long lost
Back in August, I was walking alone down a dirt road, big plastic bowl in hand, picking perfectly ripe blackberries from the vine. The same thing I have done every summer since 2009.
I got to thinking, as one usually does.
I was thinking first about how incredibly fortunate we are in the Pacific Northwest, to be blessed with such abundance. It’s easy to take for granted the bushes-full of sweet, locally-grown fruit just sitting there, ripe for the taking. And to know that every summer without fail and without asking for anything in return, the Earth offers up this luxury to us. What a treat.
From there, I began wondering about the origins of blackberries. Where did they come from? Why do people try so hard to get rid of them? Why are they so hard to get rid of? What medicinal properties do they offer? What are the myths connected to this sweet fruit?
I took to Google, as one usually does.
To my surprise, there is very little written on the history of blackberries on this continent, and even littler on the reasons why it is so hard to get rid of them. This invoked even more curiosity in me.
I had recently listened to a podcast interview with Sophie Strand (an absolute genius of our time!) in which she suggested that we look to the natural world for the most poignant examples of resistance and resilience. She said something to the effect of ‘if we based our activism and revolutionary strategies on ivy, we might have a fighting chance at disrupting oppressive systems.’ If you’ve been in community with elders, you’ll have seen the face they make when ivy is mentioned. That spindly, unsuspecting, hard-to-root-out vine that so efficiently crumbles whole houses.
Like ivy, I began to think that blackberries could be a perfect teacher of resistance and resilience. One thing in my Google-researching confirmed this in my mind: a time-worn tale about the Devil.
It is said that when the Devil lost his vicious battle against Archangel Michael, he was thrown down to Hell, landing ass-first (I’m paraphrasing here) in a blackberry bush. Full of rage and defeat, and in extreme pain from the piercing thorns, the Devil spat on the bush and cursed it.
Maybe this defeated attempt by the Devil to curse them is what strengthened the Blackberry’s resolve. This little win against evil enforced their inkling that even the big bad guys can be brought to their knees. Maybe that is why they grow back so vengefully every time they are cut down.
On further investigation, I discovered even more. It seems as though blackberries are difficult to get rid of due to a combination of their growth characteristics, reproductive strategies, and ecological adaptations.
Every one of them feels like an invitation to us humans, calling out to us to learn how to be stronger and more rooted. As you read this list, I hope you will pause to consider how each one translates into other parts of life, primarily activism and collective liberation.
Here is what I found:
Aggressive Growth: Blackberries spread quickly through underground rhizomes (horizontal stems) and form dense thickets. This rapid, widespread growth makes them hard to control once they establish a foothold.
Deep Root System: Blackberry plants have deep and extensive root systems that allow them to access water and nutrients from deeper soil layers. This makes them resilient to various environmental conditions and contributes to their ability to regrow even after being cut back or removed.
Reproductive Strategies: Blackberries reproduce through both seeds and vegetative propagation. Birds and animals eat the berries and disperse the seeds, allowing the plant to establish new growth in different areas. Additionally, new plants can sprout from root fragments left in the soil during removal attempts.
Thorn Defense: Blackberry plants often have thorny stems, which can discourage animals and humans from removing them manually. The thorns also protect the plant from being grazed by herbivores. The thorns on blackberry plants serve as a defense mechanism.
Ecological Adaptations: Blackberries have adaptations that help them thrive in various environments. They are well-suited to disturbed areas like roadsides, abandoned fields, and forest edges. Their ability to tolerate a range of soil conditions and climates contributes to their invasive behavior.
Resilience: Blackberries can recover from disturbances due to their ability to store energy in their root systems. Even if the above-ground parts of the plant are removed, the plant can regenerate from these energy reserves. Blackberries can regrow from their roots, demonstrating resilience and the ability to recover from setbacks.
Just looking at that list, I see so many bits of ecological wisdom. How can we learn to embody our tiny-but-mighty neighbors?
If we are willing students, I believe blackberries have a lot to teach us. About sweetness and sourness. About resilience. About remaining deeply rooted in joy and nourishment. About finding new ways to spread knowledge and support. About the possibility of defeating even the toughest of opponents.
Let the blackberry be an invitation.