Not One More

Theme song: The Monster

Lately, yet another mass killing took place in the land of the free and the home of the brave. In late 2012 I wrote about Sandy Hook. This year, I'm writing about Santa Barbara. My heart hurts, as it must, and I want to know: How many times will I write about this phenomenon? When will the slaughter stop?

In this country we are fortunate not to suffer from foreign terrorist attacks. Instead, we grow our own domestic terrorism. The question must be explored: Why do these tragic acts of violence occur so often here, in the land of milk and honey? In the land of plenty? In a country in which, if only you try hard enough, you can have anything you want?

Like so many of us, I have my own theory. Here goes: We have created so much precarity and live with such inequality that people are driven literally mad with fear and anger. Does ideology have a place in all of this? Certainly. Our latest killer felt he was a "have not" and felt, as well, entitled to sexual access to "hot white women, especially the blondes." He furthermore believed that if he had enough money, he would have access to the hot white women.

Elliot Rodger felt threatened by rich people, women, and men of color. Why? At least in part because we live in a country replete with racism and economic inequality. People in this country and throughout the world feel threatened. Why? Because of climate change, impending economic catastrophe, racism, violence running the gamut from constant competition to mass murder, misogyny, and wars and threat of nuclear missiles spanning our globe. Nervous? You have a right to be.

Elliot Rodger felt socially isolated and unloved. This feeling manifested as hatred for himself and others. Yet his desire for love and connection was apparent through his misguided hate. People want love and connection and will, in the extreme, die to get it or kill if they feel they cannot have it.

The United States is a country built on the fantasy of a level playing field. Those on the high ground of capitalism try to believe we are living with equality but when you're up, it's a long way down. Even the people with everything feel precarious because they know they built everything off the blood and sweat of others -- most of them women and people of color. As Solomon Burke wrote, "None of us are free if one of us are chained."

For that reason, do not make the mistake of hating Elliot Rodger. Do not add to the hate and despair upon which he acted, tempting though it surely is. Instead, think of the innocence and beauty of the people he killed and use them as inspiration to live the best life you can.

Remember that threatened people are fearful people and fearful people often become angry. It's a classic defense. Fear is paralyzing. Anger allows one to take action.

Do I condone his actions? Hell, no. As those who know me well know, my daughter's 15th birthday anniversary is next week. Despite the pain I felt 15 years ago and still now, it is a great solace to me to know that she died a peaceful death, with no one to blame.

Richard Martinez summed up the horror of violent death as he cried out in pain and anger, “When will this insanity stop? When will enough people say 'Stop this madness, we don't have to live like this'? Too many have died. We should say to ourselves, not one more." I know his journey, if he can make it, to wholeness will be a long one.

Speaking of journeys, yesterday I went on a little journey that shares with the recent Santa Barbara killings a context of violence and socio-economic inequality yet comes to quite a different conclusion.

San Francisco holds a secret -- quite as newsworthy as a mass killing and in its way every bit as dramatic. You haven't heard about it because good news is no news. You haven't heard of it because the gathering of nature into itself -- the ceaseless tide of healing -- doesn't often make headlines.

I'm talking about Heron's Head Park, a beautiful salt marsh formed by nature, neglect, and finally purposeful human effort. It is located at the old naval shipyard, right next to luxury housing that despite still being under construction, is already partly sold.

Talk about class and race conflict! The Bayview is a neighborhood many San Franciscans just don't talk about. It's a -- sshh -- black neighborhood, and I once had a local realtor tell me that if I wanted to look for houses there, that was fine -- but she wouldn't show me the properties. Now the area is increasingly prized as a last bastion of affordability.

My guess is that more and more cookie cutter luxury homes will be built along the beautiful shores and salt marshes, and the black families will be displaced and San Francisco will lose still more of its vibrant diversity. There may also be a "Love Canal" type crisis. The whole area is known for its toxic waste sites and I won't be surprised if an unscrupulous or ignorant developer builds a luxury complex or a school on a toxic site. Later, we'll hear about the high cancer rates, miscarriages, and disabled children.

Still, given everything that surrounds it and the history that led to its creation, Heron's Head Park is a literally shining example of human will gone right. Beginning in 1998, Literacy for Environmental Justice (LEJ) began nurturing the area and, working with Bayview community youth, built San Francisco's first, and so far only, off the grid office building.

The place is magnificent for its contrasts -- birds, shining grasses, and the living-roof Eco Center co-exist with naval shipyard decay and, of course, the aforementioned cookie cutter luxury homes. There's even a local plant nursery next to the park that is open to the public.

The shoreline is crunchy with shells and broken glass -- another sign of the area's history as a dumping ground. Despite the recent history of environmental abuse, I saw new birds I had never seen before (supposedly there are 100 different bird types that call the park home).

Peaceful in an unexpectedly uncrowded urban landscape, I exchanged smiles and nods with a range of folks from black, Latino, gay, and Asian families to foreign tourists to, yes, white people on bikes as we shared time, space, and the renewing forces of nature. Humans, you know, are part of nature, and nature needs diversity to thrive.

As I wandered the trails and picnic areas I walked all the way to the tip of the park and it led to a broad, peaceful perspective of clean bay, fresh air, blue sky, and distant hills. I saw only one small graffiti in the entire place.

It, too, delivered a message of hope and healing that is as perennial is it may now seem premature: