How to Actuate a Thirst for Justice

Theme song: When Will We Be Paid

July is a good month to talk about politics, although as a general rule it is not a subject I enjoy. Everyone is right, all the time, including me.

I didn't always feel this way. One early foray into politics had me trying to protect a Planned Parenthood clinic from some right-to-lifers.

This was in Sacramento, back in 1988.

The experience was completely unsavory. The larger, better-organized group of right-to-lifers were crawling on their hands and knees in seemingly endless waves, slowly but surely toppling us, the pro-choicers, as we all listened to the recorded strains of fetal heart beats and babies crying.

Then the police came and started to drag us all away. One of my fellow pro-choicers got hurt in the process and I'll probably never forget the look of righteous indignation on her face when she turned to the police officers and said, "Hey, you hurt me!" That's right, baby, this is not a game.

That kind of ended my career as a protester.

It is really tempting to call these right-to-lifers hypocrites, but, of course, one has to be very careful when throwing the word "hypocrite" around. It has an icky way of boomeranging.

Still, the majority of them want to keep these babies alive (Hey, I have an idea. Let's talk about over population!), but they seem far less eager to provide education (about birth control), healthy school lunches, safe home environments, adequate housing, or medical insurance.

They would like to call me a murderer. It's true, I eat meat. Oh right, I forgot. People are more important than animals.

Where's the room for nuanced discussion in all of that?

Thoughts of nuance -- and hypocrisy -- have been on my mind lately because I read an article on reparations in The Atlantic.

I strongly encourage you to read the article, written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, because it changed my life and it may change yours, too.

I was taught that slavery was wrong (dare I say "Duh!"?) and that it's wrong to be racist (Double "Duh"?). Yet willingness to accept the past and current implications of slavery and racism is another matter entirely.

This article on reparations taught me a lot about the historical and present day facts of racism, but the impact of the article one me was much greater than that. Coates' words affected my sense of, shall we say, wisdom. Wisdom is another word I hesitate to throw around, yet I use it in this case because the article taught me something more than facts; it fundamentally shifted my way of thinking about justice and, specifically, being black in America.

Now I understand:

America's wealth was not just created by slaves. In many ways, it was slaves (and slavery). This means that when blacks were freed, for many white people it was the equivalent of taking away their homes and cars. You might think that's no big deal compared to owning a human, but slave owners sure as H*** did not view it that way. Fear, hate, and rage were the result.

The fear, hate, and rage they felt extends to today in various forms, but people have forgotten -- or actively choose to ignore -- the ENORMITY of the human rights crimes committed against blacks in our country. Perhaps more egregious in the past, but deeply pernicious into the present as well.

We (privileged whites especially) live in a fantasy mode, packaged and sold to the world, that our country exemplifies democracy when, in fact, our democracy was built by and for white men. At present, our country is a country of haves and have nots, and much of this is divided along racial lines -- in some cases far more than economic status.

Today, justice has not been served.

Here's an example. My own money, the money that is fueling my ability to write this very article, the money that sustained me through my divorce and allowed me to rebuild my life, was largely acquired through my ex-husband's job at a credit card bank that specifically targeted people of color. My ex-husband was not directly involved in policy, I'm pleased to report, and the bank was eventually investigated by the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) because of its predatory and illegal lending practices. Yet the harm was done, and this bank is just one among many examples of how banks, the legal system, and our government (yes, even with a black president) treat people of color.

That's now, people, not then. Does it make me a hypocrite? Yes, it does. Am I alone in my hypocrisy? Of course not. You can dig into the source of your money and probably trace at least some of it to the labor and/or exclusion of blacks and other people of color or immigrants.

Even if, by chance, your money is "clean", you probably carry a cell phone or use an electronic device of some sort. As we speak, African boys in Congo live as slaves in a war zone collecting the minerals necessary for your business and pleasure.

Did you know? San Francisco has one of the highest rates of child sex trafficking in our country. San Francisco is a food town, no? Yet 1 in 4 of our residents faces food insecurity. You can bet that of that 1 and 4, blacks are disproportionately represented.

These are the realities we are living with and within, but nothing forces us to face them -- unless and until we are directly affected.

Or, and this is what I call a miracle, we become motivated to make a conscious choice. The miracle could be a well-written article, a new friendship, or a chance viewing of an injustice. I don't know what all actuates a thirst for justice that is bigger than ourselves, but I would like to.

I had the opportunity to sit down recently with a man who doesn't like Obama. He also doesn't like Obamacare.

He has a job, a home, several cars, and, yes, health insurance, but he thinks it's unfair that Obamacare is taking away his right to choose between an HMO and a PPO and, although many people in the world having nothing at all approximating choice when it comes to health insurance, among them all the Europeans who have true universal health care, I understand where he's coming from. I'm not being sarcastic. I get as mad as anybody else when I can't have my latte extra hot.

It's a place of (willful) ignorance because, my friends, the truth of having harmed others hurts and also obligates us to make amends (or, in the case of blacks in America, reparations).

To make amends is to understand fully a wrong and your part in it, communicate your genuine grief, and do what's in your power to repair the situation. You have to be willing to change. You may "give up" having more to make sure everyone has enough. Making good may mean giving up wealth. Ugh.

In 12 step recovery programs there is a useful slogan, "Awareness, Acceptance, Action".

Awareness, Acceptance, Action

Here are my suggestions:

• Become aware. Educate yourself about what it means to be black, poor, or otherwise disadvantaged in America. Understand the truth of the past and the present.
• Accept. Accept and feel the implications of these injustices.
• Take action. The clarity you get through awareness and acceptance will guide you.

Perhaps the only action you can take right now is to change your attitude towards others. You can begin to view everyone around you with more compassion and understanding.

You will walk in the world with a lighter step because you will have accepted something real about yourself, your country, and the world within which you live.

By living in truth, you will contribute to something much larger than yourself, which is the healing of a nation, and, by extension, a world.

Your Turn

Any ideas about how to actuate a thirst for justice?