Twelve Dollars

Being back in East Hartford after four months was really a blessing. Spending time with the fam and my wonderful friends was much needed relaxation and a good break from the routine I have been living in Raleigh. It was interesting to watch myself the first few days as I immersed myself in the relationships I've left back home, and kind of dive back into my life at home. It wasn't until halfway through my vacation that I realized I had left JVC behind.

For the past few months, my community members and I have discussed how important it is for us to connect our lives back home to our lives in JVC; how necessary it is for us to keep our experiences at the forefront and really be able to make it more than just an experience, but an actual part of us. I fell so easily into the comfort of life back home - watching ESPN everyday, watching TV as I fall asleep, going out to eat for many meals. On Christmas morning, though I did not get much under the tree, I had the opportunity to get a new pair of boots and my favorite TV show on DVD.

Upon my return to Raleigh last week, it took me a lot longer to fall back into my "JVC life." Even as clients came and went, I felt so lost and confused. It wasn't until my second day back in the office that I found my compassion again. A client of mine came in for assistance with his rent. He has been struggling to find a job, though he has a great skills set in non-profit work. He has created payment plans with each of the companies he is billed by each month so that he can catch back up on his payments. As he talked, I just listened, though inactively. He started to tell me about his 17 year old son and how he couldn't even provide much for him for Christmas. His son lives about two hours away with his mother. He is an honor roll student and a talented athlete. When my client moved to Raleigh, he was so excited to be closer to his son, but has not even had enough money to afford the gas to get him to his son's town. As he told me this story, he began to cry. A few weeks ago, his son came to Raleigh for a basketball tournament. My client was so excited to see him and his son was also really pumped. He was going to go to one of the basketball games and see his son play. When he found out the games' admission cost $12, though, his world came crashing down. Where would he get the $12 he needed to go see his son for the first time in over a year? It was impossible.

Twelve dollars...an amount of money that seems like pocket change sometimes. Twelve dollars that my client didn't have and rarely has to spend on anything except his monthly bills. He barely has enough money to feed himself each day. His son was five minutes away and he couldn't even see him. As he cried in my office, I snapped back to reality and out of my comfortable life back home when $12 admission to a basketball game was never a problem.

This past weekend, my community set off for beautiful Dalton, PA for re-orientation. We got to see our friends we met a few months ago who are doing JVC up and down the East Coast. We finally got to talk to everyone about our experiences, our struggles, and our joys. It was a great time to get re-focused, especially after feeling disconnected when I was back in CT. Our entire day Friday was spent talking about social analysis - how do we take the experiences we've had and really ask the question why. Why are my clients poor? Why are those who are already marginalized more likely to become infected with HIV? Why are African-Americans more likely to live in poverty than whites? We learned more about analyzing the social structures of our country and really dive into looking at who benefits from the way society is structured today.

I really got to thinking - Why does greed and power rule our society? Why do the rich continue to grow richer while the poor lack the resources to break through the poverty circle? Why do elected politicians listen to only some of their constituents when they are elected to represent ALL of their constituents? Why is it that many of my clients, like Michael, cannot afford the $12 to see their children in a basketball game? My time at re-orientation really re-focused me, re-centered me, and re-energized me. I feel called to action; called to do more research and reflection; called to discern what my role in all of this is and how I can work to really CHANGE the structures. The structures and institutions were created by people, and as such, by people, they can be changed. I am grateful for the privilege with which I was born and raised, and I am grateful that I grew up in East Hartford, CT where I had the chance to interact with many cultures, where life was diverse, where some of my closest friends growing up may have had a different skin color than me, but were still my closest friends. I work for social justice because I know that this society is not just; that, if given the chance, those living in poverty could move out of poverty. But how? How do I work for change especially when so many Americans are comfortable with the way society is right now? How do I convince others that it is our God-given responsibility to work for justice and equality and for the well-being of ALL people, not just ourselves? These are questions I am struggling with not only in my interactions with clients, but also with recent happenings at my agency, and even in conversations with family and friends.

I start the second half of my year focused and ready to take on what seems like the impossible. This is the start of learning what it really means to be a woman for and with others. Would you like to join me on this journey?

"Look How Far I've Come"

It feels like this week has just been a huge blur. Sure, the days often blend together because most of my days contain the same work but with different clients. But this week has been different. I spent four days working with the same client, a nice man named Terry. On Monday, Terry came to me for a financial appointment. As he walked into my office, I asked him the typical, "How are you doing today," to which he responded, "Not so good." Each day I work with clients who are not doing so good, but it is very rare that a client will tell me that. They often times will say something like, "Blessed to be here" or "Doing alright." When Terry told me that he wasn't doing so good, I sensed that this appointment would be a little different than the others.

Terry was given a two-day eviction notice last tuesday from his apartment where he had lived with his friend for almost five years. His friend found a place to live instantly as she has a little bit of income. Terry is jobless and makes his money doing odd jobs when his arthritis isn't so painful that he can barely move. Terry is not the first homeless client whom I have met and worked with, but he is the first one who asked me for help in finding a place to rest his head at night. I sat with him and went through the resources I know - the Wilmington St. Men's Shelter and Raleigh Rescue Mission. We went back and forth talking about these options, but his frustrations were so strong that he wouldn't accept those as his only options, either. He kept challenging me to look for more resources, to push harder to find something that would work for him. At one point, he looked at me and said, "Just shoot me in the head. Might as well end it now." I became so overwhelmed, almost to the point of tears, that I couldn't think straight, let alone look more closely at available resources. But Terry wouldn't let me give up on him like that. He wouldn't let me just watch him walk away. I felt the pressure, and I knew it was not him saying that I wasn't doing enough or not doing my job. He was feeling hopeless and so confused. I knew he was asking himself how it could have gotten to this point.

I went to Ms. Jeanette and begged her to talk to Terry, to hear his story, to do whatever she could. I could not just watch him walk out the door without some kind of solution to the problem. She spent about 15 minutes chatting with him, listening to him, and came up with an idea for which she gives me credit. There is a men's "shelter" run by the AME Church that provides men with a place to sleep, a place to shower, and one meal a day for $60 per week. The men are guaranteed a place so long as they pay and can stay there all day, every day, if they so choose. Ms. Jeanette came up with the idea that we could see if we could pay for Terry to stay there for a few weeks, at least through Christmas. When I asked our boss, he said yes - an answer I honestly did not expect. Terry now had a place to stay for at least 2 weeks. Also, James told me that I could refer Terry to the Hustead House, one of AAS-C's residential homes for people living with HIV. I sent Terry on his way to the AMEC shelter with the agreement that he would return the next day to fill out the Hustead House application with me. My hope had been restored, at least for that time, as I watched Terry walked out the door knowing he had a place to stay that night.

When he came back on Tuesday, he was looking more cheerful. He was walking straighter with a little more pep in his step. I told him that he looked a lot better, that I could tell he was in a better mood than the day before. He was clearly more comfortable and feeling like he was in a better situation. He joked with me throughout our appointment and when I told him his whole demeanor seemed more positive he told me, "This is the real Terry." As we filled out the Hustead House application together, I could sense that he was a lot more comfortable talking to me about his situation and telling his story than he was the day before. He told me about his kids, who are around my age, and how his youngest daughter is in college now. He told me all about his brothers and sisters, and his mom. He talked more about when he tested positive for HIV two years ago and about his struggles with drugs. He spoke as though we'd known each other for a lot longer than 24 hours. 

Wednesday morning, I walked into the office to two new messages from Terry telling me that he could not stay at the shelter any more, that it was not sanitary and he didn't think it was good for his health. I tried to get in touch with my boss to see if Terry could move into Hustead House that night. Luckily, his brother was willing to let him stay with him for a day or two if needed. James finally called me back and told me that Terry could move in that night if I went and picked him up and brought him to the house. I called Terry and told him the good news and we worked out a time for me to pick him up from his brother's place. This is the "big break" we'd both been waiting for. While living at the house he'll have time to spend looking for a job and he won't have to stress too much about his finances. During our car ride, Terry talked to me in a way that shows that he really trusts me. I knew as we talked that he is comfortable with me, that he believes I'm there to help, that he can talk to me if he needs to, and that he would protect me if ever needed. The ride felt like a typical ride with my dad, just chatting about the day's events, talking about football, and just making small talk. We both expressed our frustrations with certain things in life, our excitement about others, about my family, and about his. Though it was only a 15 minute ride, it is something that will stick with me for a very long time.

James met us at the house and showed us around, introducing Terry to the other house members and talking about the rules. He asked Terry about his goals, to which he responded that he wants to better himself and not have to worry anymore. As the discussion continued, it became clear that Terry was still in shock, that the past few days had also become a blur for him. Just four days before, he was homeless with no place to go and now he had a place to live for as long as he wants so long as he follows the basic rules and pays his rent. So much had happened to him in one week that he really couldn't believe this was his place now. He kept thanking me and thanking James, saying how blessed he felt. At one point he said that he didn't know how he can ever repay us. James looked him in the eye and said, " In six months, when you can look at me and say, 'This is where I was; this is where I am; look at how far I've come,' that will be enough for me. I couldn't have said it any better myself.

The whole experience was an emotional roller coaster for me - from feeling helpless to feeling like I really made a difference in Terry's life. There are plenty of times at work when I have felt helpless, when I've had to tell clients that I cannot help them with their light bill or with their rent. But this was a completely different story, a completely different situation. It experience was not about making sure a client had a place to sleep. It became more about watching Terry's emotions change, seeing our relationship develop, and seeing him develop a sense of hope when just two days earlier he was feeling completely hopeless. It became more about realizing how the structures in our society hold the poor down, how the marginalized will struggle their entire lives to move back inside the margins, how the disenfranchised are constantly dealt the bad hand, time and again. How do we work to change the structures? I ponder this question every single day.

No More Names

A week has past since World AIDS Day on December 1st, and it has taken me a week to process all that occurred in the few days leading up to WAD and on WAD itself. I had no idea what it would be like for me this year, after working day in and day out with those who are living with HIV/AIDS. I am so used to our more passive events that SGAC put on at Fordham - movie screenings, benefit dinners, HIV 101. AAS-C's Faith Ministries department - directed by Ms. Carolyn - held two events, one on AIDS Sunday and the other on World AIDS Day. Please bear with me as you read this...it is still very difficult for me to express all of the emotions I felt in those days. It has truly been unlike anything I have ever experience, and I have never become so emotional when directly confronted with stories of those living with or who have died from HIV/AIDS.

On AIDS Sunday, there was a candlelight labyrinth walk at Millbrook Baptist Church. For those of you who do not know, the labyrinth is a maze of sorts, but rather than not being able to find your way out, the path is clearly defined and there is only one way to the center and back out. It is a time for deep individual reflection. The only time I have walked one was this past March in Nashville with my wonderful team. When we got to Millbrook, I was stunned by the beauty of the garden and by how incredible the labyrinth looked with the candles all around it. Throughout the walk, a continuous reading of names took place. Names of those clients whom AAS-C has lost were read, along with other names from the AIDS Names Project. After each name, a bell was sounded. This continued for one and a half hours and about 2000 names were called - an incredibly small number/percentage of all those who have been lost to AIDS in the last 30 years. I helped read some of the names, and tears came to my eyes as I read, and I didn't even know any of the lives behind those names. I have my own list of names of people I have met who are living with HIV/AIDS: my clients, the kids I worked with this spring at Incarnation Children's Center in NYC, the guys from the ACES program when I interned at the CT AIDS Resource Coalition, and the wonderful men I met in Nashville both times I went down there. Someday they, too, will be a name on that list. I just pray that they do not die from AIDS, but from natural causes after living long, healthy, fulfilling lives. My heart breaks to know that with the right education, this pandemic can be slowed. Yet, each day I meet younger and younger clients who are living with HIV. How do we stop this? How do we fight so that no more names will have to be added to that list?

As I walked the labyrinth myself, I heard those names being called. Name after name after name. I began to reflect on the injustice associated with HIV/AIDS and about all of the people I have met who are living with the virus. Each one of them was a member of a marginalized population before they became infected. The poor; drug addicts; homosexuals; convicts/prisoners; prostitutes. Though there are people living with HIV who are middle class or even wealthy, the virus spreads much more rapidly amongst the already marginalized. Why is is that those who are already suffering are made to suffer more? It is the harshest realization to know that vital resources, resources that are essential to live and live well, are not available to all people. Even in our own country, people are living in desperate conditions - homeless, jobless, in homes that are falling apart, without running water or proper sanitation, without nutritional foods to make them stronger. And these are individuals living in the US who are most likely to become infected with HIV. Suffering on top of suffering on top of suffering, but why? How do we reconcile the idea that God created us out of unconditional love with the fact that the previously marginalized are becoming even further removed from society because they are more likely to become infected with HIV? The stigma has not disappeared and will not disappear until change is made; until new programs are implemented; until comprehensive sexual education is available to all people; until poor mothers living with HIV can afford formula for their babies so that they do not infect the infants through breastfeeding; until homosexuality is accepted. I was so angry with God as I walked toward the center of the labyrinth. As I listened to those names, my anger grew stronger. I just kept asking why. Why hurt those who are already hurting? Why take away their feelings of dignity? Haven't they suffered enough?

Once I reached the center, my thoughts started to change. I started to reflect on my place in the world, how I live today, what I do to make a difference. What have I done to change my way of life to the point that I can understand what it is like to live the lives of any of my clients? I recognize that in my own ways, I am only contributing to the issue. I am still trying to separate myself from the poor, trying to prove to myself that I can live simply, but have an out in case I really want something. My clients do not have that out. My clients rarely have such an out if there is an emergency. Peter Maurin once said, "Voluntary poverty is the answer. We cannot see our brother in need without stripping ourselves. It is the only way we have of showing love." God opened me up and forced me to really question my actions and intentions. How an I work to assure there will be no more names? How can I help bring an end to the stigma? How can I change me in order to truly practice what I preach?

World AIDS Day was a very emotional day for me - full of tears that were quickly followed by strong feelings of hope. During the day, we had Rent playing on repeat for our clients and we had our meditation room set up with candles to light in memory of friends lost to AIDS. I avoided both rooms for most of the day - until about 2pm when I sat down to watch Rent for the first time. In the characters, I saw my clients. But I saw my clients in a completely different light. I saw their struggles so much more closely. There was anger; there was fear; there was a desire to end it; there were struggles with love and friendship; there were challenges in understanding; there were financial struggles. Every scene so clearly showed me the inner struggles that I often do not get to see from my clients. I cried and cried as it was revealed to me just what it means to be HIV+ and how important it is for those who are infected and affected to have a support system. It breaks my heart to know that so many of my clients cannot tell their loved ones about their infection. I cried and cried as I realized that I can only do so much, that I am limited.

When the movie finished and the tears dried a bit, I finally made my way into the meditation room to light a candle and reflect. I sat staring at two quilts hanging on the walls - quilts made from patches created by clients, clients' families and friends, staff, and others in memory of those clients whom we have lost to AIDS. One said, "Your lives were worth living." One said, "Thank you for helping me remember why we continue to fight." Some were just names; others said "I'll always love you"; others were prayers. Each one has a story; each one represents a life lost to AIDS, as well as a life lived. I say, and I cried, and I thought about what I can do. The quilt square that stood out the most were the ones that said "No More Names" and "Until There's a Cure." All of a sudden I started praying words that I know so well - "Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change; the courage to change the things that I can; and the wisdom to know the difference." The words just flowed and flowed, as though I had no control over them. I felt so liberated through those words, that I sat down to create my own quilt patch with those words on it, along with a red AIDS ribbon and the words "NO MORE NAMES." I knew, in that moment, that God has really called me to work in this ministry. I am meant to work to fight HIV/AIDS and fight for those living with and affected by the virus. THis is my vocation. THis is what I have been called by God to do.

The day ended beautifully with an Interfaith Worship Service themed "Hope is Greater Than AIDS." Ms. Carolyn asked me to lead the community in a prayer of hope, about which I felt very honored to have a role in. The service really didn't affect me until the calling of the names. One by one, twenty-two of us stood and said, "Tonight, I rise in memory of my friend, who we lost this year; and hope for the day when no one else will have to stand again...for HOPE is greater than AIDS." When it was my colleague Kristin's turn to stand, she began reading the words, and with those words came tears. I began to cry as I remembered the day a couple of months ago when she lost one of her clients, an older man who had no family, but had Kristin. She brought all of his belongings to the office after he passed on and put his Christmas teddy bear on my chair. (It now sits proudly on the bookshelf in my office). As she cried, I cried, we all cried. I saw such compassion in that church. Everyone was there for a reason - to remember those lost, those living and those we still need to protect and to pledge to continue the fight until there are no more names. After the 22 clients we've lost so far this year (make it 23 as of yesterday) were called and remembered, Carolyn asked for anyone who has lost someone to AIDS or knows someone affected by AIDS to stand, nearly every person in the church stood. Everyone is affected; it has never proven to be more true. When I saw everyone stand, I knew that we were all making a vow to continue fighting, to never forget. We vowed to keep the promise to never give up; to continue the fight until there are no more names. With hope, all things are possible. AIDS cannot beat us. For HOPE is truly greater than AIDS.

Giving Thanks

I still cannot believe that Thanksgiving has already come and gone. Time is flying down here in Raleigh. It's almost time for me to be back home in East Hartford for a little vacation. I never thought I'd say I'm going to East Hartford, CT for a vacation haha. 


Like every year around this time, I stop and think about all of the things that I am thankful for - like my supportive family who has never done anything but encourage me to follow my dreams and give life my all; or my wonderful friends who are always there to listen, to laugh, and to share great moments with; or the fact that I grew up in a home where we did not have to struggle to pay the bills; or even the simple things like having a place to lay my head at night, food on the table for every meal, and a warm jacket to save me from the intruding cold. I am blessed to be able to live comfortably - mentally, physically, socially, and financially. With each client I meet, I recall how blessed I am to have had the opportunity to go to a prestigious four-year university and rarely have to worry about where the money was coming from. I am so blessed to have been able to live in Italy for 4 months. The list goes on and on. What I've realized though, is that many of the things that I am thankful for are those things which my clients do not have, things that the marginalized in our society do not have. I am thankful for things that separate me from the poor, as though I am saying, "Thank you, God, for not making me poor." In the past three months, now that I have come to recognize my privilege, I have been able to face humanity head on. Rather than only discussing the previous things listed above as the things I'm thankful for, I can truthfully say I am thankful for the things that connect me to the poor, most of which I have learned from the poor and those who have dedicated their lives to working with and for them. 


Compassion is defined as "a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering." I never really understood what compassion is or why it is important to the fight for social justice. I have often felt deep compassion - when tutoring children who have grown up in poverty, when working with children who are infected with HIV, or when hearing the stories of all of the wonderful people I had the chance to work with in Nashville. However, it was not until meeting many of my colleagues and getting to know them that I have come to see how essential compassion is to our work. Ms. Carolyn, our Director of Faith Ministries is a prime example of this. She's been AAS-C longer than anyone, which intimidated me a little at first. But once I realized that she would be one of my biggest allies and one of the people I admire most at work, our relationship has really blossomed. One day, Ms. Carolyn got a phone call from one of her interns saying that he'd just left one of residential units where he'd gone to see a client. The other house members told him that the client was "gone," which he came to interpret as the client had passed on (in actuality...he had moved to another state). Ms. Carolyn cried and cried when she heard the initial news. It was the first time I'd ever seen her as vulnerable. She loves her clients and she lives to fight against injustice. She is such a selfless woman. She gives all of herself to our clients, not just because she feels called by God to serve others, but because she truly feels sorrow when she looks in the faces of those most impacted by social injustice. And she wants to do everything she can to see that suffering alleviated in some way. She is easily the most compassionate woman I have ever met...and I am truly thankful and blessed to know her and admire her. She has taught me what it really means to dedicate oneself to this fight.


Love has so many definitions and with each passing day I find a new way to look at love. Clients often tell me that they love me, out of gratitude. And I know that I always tell others that I love them. It is fascinating to me, though, what love means to the marginalized of society. I have come to notice that my view of love differs drastically from theirs. Patricia came in last Monday to pick up the turkey and large box of food I had called to offer her. She was the most gracious of my clients, stunned when I called her the Friday before to offer the food to her and her two young daughters. Patricia and I have a very interesting relationship. I did her intake in September, not long after she moved here with her two young daughters from Massachusetts in order to escape her husband. She has been struggling to feel like she's found home. Each time she comes in the food pantry, she always has new stories to tell about her daughters - to the point where I feel like I've met them - and always confides in me about her struggles. After we loaded all of the food into the car, she gave me a big hug to say thank you and kept telling me how this was such a blessing to her and her family. Then she grabbed my hand, looked me in the eye and told me, "I feel like I've finally found my family here. Thank you." Tears came to my eyes, and continue to come to my eyes each time I recount this story, because, in that moment, I recognized what it means to love truly and unconditionally. Patricia loves me like I am family, though we've known each other for only three months and have probably only seen each other 7 or 8 times. Love is more that passion, more than caring. It is the most powerful feeling in the world, and my clients have taught me that it is not a word that is just tossed around freely. Love is true, unconditional, nonjudgmental.


Faith, as defined by Reba, is belief in something more than what you know. Not a day goes by where I do not have doubts about God's role in this world. I see my clients struggle to keep their apartments, feed their families, and maintain a steady job. It is hard to believe that God created misery in this world, but it is also hard to believe He is not doing anything to end the suffering. My faith is brought into question everyday. yet, I meet with clients and hear them talk about their own spirituality and how it is so important to them, how they believe to strongly in Jesus and in God's work in the world. It is amazing to see people who struggle each day constantly saying that this is not what God wants nor what he intends. So many clients are preachers or avid church-goers. It baffles my mind how strong their faiths are, yet pushes me to redefine my own. I am truly grateful for such inspiration and belief.


This Thanksgiving, as much as I missed being with my family and having the chance to remind them how thankful I am for them, I have come to realize that as much as I am thankful that I grew up the way I did, I am even more grateful to have one-on-one contact with the poor and marginalized (and to have had the contact throughout my life). Each moment proves to me that God is good and has blessed us with hands to reach out with, eyes to see reality through, ears to hear the cries of the voiceless, and a heart with which we can love - truly and unconditionally. It is the stuff that ties us all together that I am most thankful for this year because these are the things that help us fight for justice and peace.


Compassion. Love. Faith.

The Path of Love

Being in Washington, DC this past weekend for the Ignatian Family Teach-In game me a lot to reflect on. What is social justice? What are human rights? Why is it that the United States, the supposed "greatest, most powerful nation in the world," seems to constantly work against social justice and the guarantee of human right to all people?I struggle with this question every day at work, in my reading, and in my thoughts. The Teach-In was a mix of emotions and the broadness of topics discussed seemed, too me, to take away from the general theme of "Remembering our Salvadoran Martyrs." The Salvadoran Jesuit martyrs, along with Archbishop Oscar Romero died fighting for social justice. They were murdered for striving to help their fellow Salvadorans understand the national reality. At first glance, I always think what is the point of working for justice, equality, and human rights when so many others strongly oppose those things which may take away from their own power and wealth or may create a change in the status quo. At first glance, I see the murders of our Salvadoran martyrs and people like Martin Luther King Jr. as a sign that wrong will always prevail; that greed always wins; that justice will never be gained, no matter how hard it is fought for.

Central America is made up of developing nations, as are Africa, the Middle East, and the South Pacific. It is a hotbed of oppression and of human rights abuses. Countries like Nicaragua and El Salvador struggled through civil wars throughout the 1980s, wars that resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent poor civilians. During this time, Americans were scared of communism but also feared another military conflict like the war in Vietnam. While the Salvadoran government was committing human rights atrocities through massacres, disappearances, and tortures, the USA was funding their military. How can so many people be blinded by the fact that funding the military meant funding the death squads and funding sever violations of human rights. The United States was so fearful of communism that they did not stop to consider that revolution is not the same as communism or that sending military aid to a country in ruin will actually fight communism. Evil prevails. Fear wins. Greed and power come out on top. Rather than striving to create a just and peaceful world, the United States sent the message that the abuse of human rights is ok and oppression is ok, so long as communism does not take over, so long as the people's voices are not heard.

Developing nations are much different than developed nations like the US, England, China, Japan, Italy, Spain, etc. The problems and issues present in developing countries, it would seem, do not exist in the great powerful countries of the world because these countries are established, civilized, and work each day to prove that democracy truly means the people have a say in how the country is run. After really thinking about this, though, it is so easy to see that this is a load of garbage; it isn't true at all. Problems of developing nations are problems everywhere - poverty, socioeconomic discrimination and exploitation, human rights violations. They can be seen every day in the United States no matter which state or region of the country you are in. We are one of the wealthiest countries in the world, yet many of our people live in poverty, and often time, there is no way out of that poverty. THose who are born into a family living in poverty will continue to live in poverty because they will be subjected to poor education and schools that have no money for resources. Without education, they will not get well-paying jobs. Race plays a role, too. Blacks are more likely to live in poverty, to be incarcerated, to become infected with HIV. Racial discrimination is a structure in our society, as are poverty and homelessness. They will never go away because they are ingrained in the history of this country. The poor will continue to be poor unless our society is turned upside down and serious changes are made. Because in the US - greed and power win and evil prevails.

Farm workers, the ones who work tirelessly to put food on our tables often times do not have the food to feed themselves or their families. They typically live in shacks, lucky if they have running water. They are treated so badly, yet they are the ones who provide for us all. And what about immigrants? Our country is a country of immigrants. It would not exist if people never moved here from all over the world. Yet, our country works against immigration; it treats immigrants like they are scum and do not deserve a chance to change their lives. We give them no rights and do not give them a chance to work towards citizenship. It is as though this country's history means nothing; like the US's foundation is meaningless. People forget that "All men were created equal" and that our founding fathers guaranteed the unalienable rights of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Those rights, instead, are completely alienable because society encourages selfishness, greed, and the desire of power. This leads to poverty and violations of human rights because people have a tendency to do whatever will get them ahead, rather than what is best for the common good. It is as though justice will never be a reality.

While in DC, walking around the monuments, reading quotes from presidents past, I was slowly reminded of those who have fought for social justice throughout time. Abraham Lincoln fought so that the slaves could be freed. FDR fought to bring an end to poverty. MLK Jr. fought for racial equality. Oscar Romero, Ignacio Ellacuria, and the other Jesuit martyrs in El Salvador fought for social justice through educating other and fighting for and with the poor. With the murders of all but FDR, it is very easy to believe that evil will always win, that social justice is an impossible goal. But it also brings about hope and faith in a better tomorrow. None of these men gave up, regardless of the consequences. They walked the path that Jesus walked. They fought for their beliefs and fought with their lives reminding themselves that God will not let evil win but wants us to find the way to peace and justice. Humankind created the mess that is this world; humankind has to find the way out of it. Social justice and peace can be attained. Evil will not always prevail. The lives of the martyrs have shown us that.

"In these days of difficulty, we Americans everywhere must and shall choose the path of social justice, the path of faith, the path of hope, and that path of love toward our fellow man." - FDR

How else are we going to pull this world out of the mess that we have created?

Releasing the Stereotypes that Live Within Us

At the age of 22, sometimes I feel like I have seen it all. Then a new situation hits me, and I realize how naive I really am, how much I have left to experience in my life, and how little I truly know. During our new staff and new volunteer training on Friday night, my naivety and ignorance shown brightly. This is that story.

Paster B, a Methodist pastor who has deep ties to AAS-C and sits on our Board of Directors, wrapped up Friday night's training with a "Diversity" session. Now, I have sat through many talks and lectures about diversity, and never once have I walked out of it appreciating diversity more or questioning my beliefs. Pastor B, however, pushed me to think more deeply about the stereotypes I have, the prejudices that immediately come to mind, and how, often times, those judgments are quickly changed once I actually meet and get to know a person. After Pastor B talked to us a little bit about what diversity means and what a stereotype is, he gave us an activity to complete called "Releasing the Stereotypes that Live Within Us." The instructions were simple: Pastor B would name a group of people and we would have to pick five words that describe the way we believe that group to be upon first encounter. For example, one of the groups he gave us was "Corporate Bank Executive," to which I responded, "arrogant, guilty, oppressive, untrustworthy, and rich." The groups we worked with were HIV+ Infants; African-American Homeless Man; Corporate Bank Executive; Muslim; Transgender Female to Male; Prostitute; Drug Addict; and Evangelical Christian. 

I struggled quite a bit through this activity, having to continuously remind myself that I wasn't supposed to choose the adjectives that I wish I felt, but rather the ones that first came to mind. So rather than choosing "oppressed, underprivileged, and mysterious" for African-American Homeless Man, I put "inferior, powerless, dirty, pushy, and emotional." After we completed the list of groups and adjectives, Pastor B asked us if anything surprised us or even made us question our own beliefs. The first thing I realized was that I put "offensive" for Drug Addict. I'd say somewhere around half of all of my clients are recovering drug addicts, and I do not find my clients to be offensive. However, the first word I thought of was "offensive." We then sat in pairs to discuss how our stereotypes stem from our personal beliefs about ourselves; how we put ourselves up on a pedestal; that we are all high and mighty; that we are "right." 

When I think about my clients and how my stereotypes and judgments have the possibility to affect their accessibility to services that can help save their lives, I realize how much I need to constantly challenge myself to push the stereotypes to the back burner. On Friday morning, I had an intake appointment with a woman in her early 40s. As we talked, I found out that she had just been released from prison less than a month ago. She had served about 5 1/2 years. I cannot sit here and tell you that this fact had no impact on me. I'm not going to lie - at first, I was really scared. Had she hurt someone? Had she stolen something? Am I in danger right now? These were my initial judgments. I didn't give her the chance to explain her past to me, or how she thought she was in a monogamous relationship before she went to prison, yet ended up being HIV+. Or how her children no longer speak to her. Or how hard life has been for her. I just immediately thought the worst because she had been in prison for 5 1/2 years. It was not until the appointment was almost over that I learned she had been charged with embezzlement and finally let my guard down. Looking back now, I know that I acted differently towards her. That is not fair. 

Relationships are the thing that I hold closest to my heart. I would not be who I am today if it weren't for people who have helped shape my life. I would not be in JVC if it weren't for relationships; if it weren't for the compassion that has developed within me; if it weren't for the love that I feel towards people; if it weren't for my faith. Pastor B's final words Friday night were: 

"Remember, all persons deserve to be included in the human tapestry of life. It's up to each of us to help one another find out place in the tapestry; to find our thread that helps weave the entire tapestry together."

We are called to embrace others, to learn from others, to appreciate others. People are more than their external appearance. Each person has a story, a story that can rock you to the core. It is important that we as people strive hard to work towards understanding others in the context of their own story - their history and experiences - not in the context of our own. Because once we try to understand someone through the context of what we along have experienced and what we alone believe, we will never work towards understanding; we will never develop a just and peaceful world. 

Think about it.

God Moments

Working for social justice really pushes one to reflect on where he or she sees God in their daily activities and interactions.  I have always wondered what it means to “see God.” Was it the time when one of my clients walked in and shared how important his relationship with God is to his survival and understanding about his current situation? Or what about that time that a client looked me in the eye and said, “I love you, Ms. Brittney. Thank you.”? I push myself each day to reflect on those “God moments,” but I often struggle to really identify them, as though I have closed myself off to experiencing God.

I remember that moment that Jamez walked into the office with his mom and dad. His little four year old body hid behind his mom as I walked up to ask him if he wanted a snack. He very quietly said yes, and that is where our friendship began. For the next two hours while his mom and dad were in appointments, Jamez followed me around the office, holding my hand. I gave him popsicles to enjoy, and he helped me to restock the pantry with items that were donated by a generous faith community that morning. Even though he started off very shy and seemingly frightened of me, after fifteen minutes or so, it was as though we had known each other for a long time and were old friends.  At lunch time, I remembered the mac ‘n’ cheese leftovers I had brought with me for lunch. Jamez had told me how much he loves macaroni and cheese, so I told him he could have some of my lunch. We worked together to get plates and forks, and even to microwave the food. When we sat down to eat, I told Jamez, “Ok. Let’s eat.” He looked at me, confused, and stuck out his hands. His beautiful four-year old eyes looked up at me and said, “Wait. We have to say grace first.” He grabbed my hands, and I listened as he prayed, “Thank you, God, for this food. Amen.”

I find it challenging to see God in each day when I work with people who suffer so much, from poverty and from HIV infection. To see a four-year old walk into the office and know that, in his short life, he has seen more and struggled more than I have in my twenty-two years, really makes me question my faith. Why would God allow people to suffer? Why would God allow such injustice? When a little boy looks at you and tells you to say grace, though, your perspective changes. After feeling like I have closed myself off to experiencing God for so long, Jamez changed me. He showed me what it is to experience God and have those God moments.