Darfur, activism, and vacation

It was a turning point. 30-40,000 people streamed from across the country, to stand for 4 hours and hear the same message over and over again--one we had long ago internalized, but one we never tire of hearing...We are all Sudanese...Injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere...This is about embracing our humanity...

600+ students lobbied Senators and Representatives from 45 states; we discovered there are people besides ourselves in the U.S. who can list more than three African countries; we discovered mutual heroes and diverse motivations; we discovered that when we embrace authenticity and refuse to give insulation control over our souls, we do so in community with so many others in so many places.
There is much to be done. But the world is listening now, and for one day, the world listened to thousands of Americans who insisted that the world listen to Africa.

I'm excited, envigorated, surprised and happy.

Sitting on a clean bench, inhaling sweet cedar, watching a squirrel play hide and seek with the flowers, I remembered that this is what privilege means. It means being able to come, rally, and go home to think about whatever I want. It means taking three days of vacation from studying to philosophize, reflect, and dress in fancy clothes so the Hill dwellers will "take me seriously." Privilege is exchanging a few words with a woman who is homeless, dwelling in her reality and crying inside because she has so much to teach me about life, and then walking away, back to my bed and dinner.


There is no joy in this.

Joy is reserved for those who give up privilege...who lose power to the powerless.

Sometimes, losing power can only mean giving up 3 days to advocate on behalf of those who can't speak for themselves right now, because their hell is too real. Always, we must speak to power with the quiet confidence that comes when we are not speaking for ourselves, but for us--all of us. And we depend on the resilience given us by the refugees, and we seize their destiny as our own, and we dream of a time when we will no longer speak from a place of privilege.