Turning Home

As my anticipation grows for my trip back to the greatest city in the world for a little visit, I've found myself focusing a lot on where I come from. There's this song I've been singing over and over in my head for months now: "Turning Home" by David Nail. In the song, he talks a lot about the challenges of living far from home but the beauty in remembering the wonderful things home has taught him. It's been making me think about all that I've learned from my two homes - East Hartford and NYC. All the people, all the experiences, all the challenges, all the joys...each has taught me something special and has helped shape the person I am today.

A few weeks ago, my dad sent me a random email that ended with the words "If you hadn't gone to Fordham, you never would have joined JVC. I wonder where you would be today if that was the case." I think back to those days in the East Hartford Public School System. I still remember my best friend in middle school, Berri's, stories of her growing up and how angry the injustices made me. I can easily recall speaking in front of the Board of Education to tell them not to cut out sports, music, or the honors program because it would only make our school system worse. There are those long talks I used to have with Mr. Apostalon about his students and their stories; about the students that slipped through the cracks. I vividly remember the day he locked me in his classroom by myself and told me I needed to write my Valedictory Address for graduation...and the tears that came down my face as I put my entire heart into that speech. I remember the passion in that speech - my need to take a stand, to let the Board of Ed know that they weren't helping us, but they were harming us. To let everyone know that there is no reason to fear East Hartford or its schools. To remind my classmates how lucky we were to grow up in a racially and economically diverse town, where we were exposed to all of life's struggles. I remember watching Mr. Apostalon tear up when he read it for the first time. I remember our principal telling me to change some of it so it wouldn't sound like an attack. I clearly remember Mr. Jordan asking me right before we processed out for graduation if I had changed it, and telling him he would just have to wait and see...Of course I did not. I remember the day I got deferred from Columbia and exactly three months later when I found out I didn't get accepted at all. I clearly remember the heartbreak...but looking back now, I couldn't be happier that I attend Fordham University. It was at Fordham that my passion for change and my passion for social justice really had a chance to flourish. Those Jesuits definitely got ahold of me and reminded me that we are all here to make the world a better place, not just for ourselves but for everyone. That has fueled my fire for the past few years, on top of those experiences back in East Hartford. Living in the Bronx for 4 years opened my eyes even more.

Then there were those two service projects in Nashville, TN that changed my life forever. I may seem nostalgic right now, but there's good reason for it. It has been just over a year since I was last in Nashville, the place where my passion for the fight against HIV/AIDS started, and the place where that passion was reinvigorated two years later. I joined JVC because of those experiences. I started working in HIV/AIDS because of those trips, because of my teammates on those trips, but mostly because of the amazing men and women I met while in Nashville. Life in JVC in not easy. Life in a full-time position working not only with people living with HIV, but with those who are poor and sometimes homeless, is not easy. Everyday I stop and remind myself why I do what I do. And I think back to all of you who have influenced my life. I think about my days in East Hartford and my days in the Bronx...and I remember all that has happened in my life. The hurt; the love; the joy; the hard times; the struggles; the people; the passion. I cannot stop this...I will not stop this.

Like my dad, I often wonder where I would be today if my life had been different...if my parents hadn't gotten divorced; if we had moved to South Windsor like my mom had wanted to for a while; if I didn't go to Fordham; if I was never introduced to the Jesuit tradition; if Dr. Naison didn't inspire me; if Dr. Lee didn't teach me about Liberation Theology; if my amazing friends on my Nashville teams didn't push me. There is something about home that always reminds me never to quit. It is home that keeps me going each day, no matter how hard, because it is home that taught me everything I know. Whether it's my home in East Hartford or my home in the Bronx...I would not be where I am today, I would not be the woman I am today, if I hadn't had those experiences. I do not know where life will take me. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. What I do know is I am blessed to have lived the life I have lived thus far and so very grateful for my amazing family, friends, professors, and mentors who have been along for the ride. God bless you all...and thank you. 

Usually take one last pass through town
Stop the car and touch the ground
Watch those streetlights swayin’ in the breeze
Decorated store fronts
Rusty old gas pumps
Try to fill my mind up
With somethin’ before I go
Picture postcard memories
You know they always make for good company

I don’t know no town
Like the old town
Even when the miles are many
I feel like I’m still around
Deep inside me
Like rings through an oak tree
Yeah, there something ‘bout a Sunday when I’m gone
That keeps me turning home

I’m standin’ here beneath these billboard lights
Takes me back to those autumn nights
Hometown bleachers packed real tight
As we marched down the field
My feet would swing from a dropped tailgate
Out on Airport Road real late
No one could walk a line too straight
We usually made it home alright
And glory days I cant re-live
Stories I’ll never forget

And I don’t know no friends
Like the old friends
I never seem to laugh now
Like I did with them
But deep inside me
A piece of history
Yeah, I hear their voices even though they’re gone
And it keeps me turning home

Never twice the same way does it start
And sure enough she stole my heart
On the old gym floor, spinnin’ round and round one night
And though we both tried hard to wait
We sure did love the taste
Of the sweet love being made and prayin’ I got it right
Graduation came and went
Along with all the time we spent

And I don’t know no love
Like the first love
When I think about the best times
She’s the one I think of
Deep inside me
All though the taste is bittersweet
I see her smilin’ even though she’s gone
And it keeps me turning home, yeah
And it keeps me turning home

"Turning Home" - David Nail

"Rewards"

A week or so ago, my community members and I went to the Dominician Priory in Raleigh with our beloved Fr. Ray. Six Dominican priests live in a beautiful, albeit simple, home about 1.5 miles from our house. When we got there, we joined them in praying the evening Vespers - a very new experience for me. Then we sat down for some appetizers and Fr. Jude's amazing pasta and sausage combo meal. The conversations were rich, as we shared our experiences with the priests and they shared their stories with us. Later on in the evening, one of the Dominicans asked us a question that really seemed to catch us off-guard...I know that I was sort of stunned. A simple question: What has been most rewarding for you in this experience? So often, we focus on the negative - the challenges we face each day, the sufferings we encounter through our clients, our own struggles with interpersonal relationships or our realtionships with ourselves. When someone asks something as basic as what has been the best reward in the past 6 months, it has a tendency to take your breath away.

I started to think about the past six months (finding it hard to believe that my first year as a JV is half over) and about my daily work. I began to think about the experiences that I have had that have forced me to confront my fears, pushed me to question my beliefs, and begged me to change my perspective. As I reflected on my time in Raleigh, I immediately realized that each of the most meaningful experiences I have had thus far revolve around people: my clients; my co-workers; my community members. Relationships. It is through the building of relationships with others that I find joy. It is through learning about the experiences of others that I find beauty in this world. It is through hearing the stories of others that my worldview changes. Remember Ja'mez, the four-year old who held my hands to say Grace before eating lunch together? Or Michael who could not afford the $12 admission to see his son play basketball? Or Terry who was homeless? Or the many other clients I meet every day who trust me, who respect me, and who have grown to love me and who I've grown to love?

There is something so beautiful about being able to connect with people on the most basic levels, and to love others like Jesus loved us all and Mother Teresa loved all people. My clients bring joy to my life every day as I watch them grow in our reltionship. Like when Ivan stops shopping just to give me a hug; or when Mr. James tells me about his eating habits; or Patricia tells me new stories about her two young daughters; or when Terry lets me move him into his new apartment; or when Deitra calls to ask what she can donate to the food pantry; or when Ja'mez's parents share their anxieties about his new school with me. There is such beauty in watching love flourish and in seeing someone grow to care about you outside of the basic client-worker relationship. Even through their struggles, my clients bring such light into my life. I feel comfortable wiht them and want to share myself with them, too.

This has all really been symbolized through three interactions with a client who is just 12 days older than me. I will call him Tommy, though that is not his name. Tommy came into my office in January for an intake. He was diagnosed with HIV in the late summer of 2010 after serving in the Army for 3 years. I felt a really special connection with him when we first met because he, too, is just 22 years old. It is as though we know so much about each other because of the simple fact that we are the same age. Though our childhoods have been very different and our experiences differ drastically, in our first meeting, you could just tell that we had a special connection. I remember how anxious he was that day and how nervous he was to share anything with me. He did not tell me much about his diagnosis or how he has been dealing with it. He did not talk too much about his family or his support system, but simply gave me the most basic information - where he works, where he lives, with whom he lives, who his doctor is, etc. Then something clicked. I asked him if he had any special vocational trainings and then watched as his face lit up. He began to tell me about his three years in the Army and all the certificates he had earned. He was so proud of those three years and expressed how much he really misses the Army. It was then that I realized that he was growing in trust with me.

A few weeks later, I had heard that he would be starting up on an HIV treatment regimen and was not sure how he was going to pay for the expensive meds. He came in and we sat down and talked about his options. He has health insurance through the Army, but for some reason it was not working when he went to the pharmacy to fill his script. His anxiety really started to show again, and I told him everything would work out, that he needed to call the insurance company and see what was happening. He called me a few days later, full of excitement, to tell me that everything was all set and he could start his meds and it would only cost $9.00 a month. After that conversation, I really saw our friendship take root. He came in for financial assistance last week, so excited that he had finally saved enough money to move out of his grandparents' house. Even though he was anxious about needing assistance, just seeing me seemed to calm him down. We laughed together about stupid stuff; got frustrated together when talking about his hours and check garnishments. It is difficult to articulate my feelings toward our friendship, but when he took me out to see his new, and very used, car, that is when it clicked. tommy is just like me - a 22-year old, care-free individual who just wants to be himself and to be happy. As he yelled at me not to look at the french fries on the floor of his car, I realized how he just wants to be a young adult, without his HIV dictating who he is, who he can be, or what he can do. I felt us connect on the most bsic of human levels in that moment. I couldn't stop smiling when he left my office.

I feel like I found a freind - someone who will respect me and love me, even if I can't do everything. Though I may not feel this way with every client I meet or work with, I am really beginning to realize how central relationships are to who I am. They shape who I am and what I eblieve every day. My clients teach me new things, offer me new perspectives, and constantly remind me why I have dedicated my life to fighting for social justice. Sure, they also frustrate me on the regular, and often times make me upset or angry. But they truly bless me everyday.

When we got home from the Dominican priory last week, Fr. Ray was talking to us about happiness and what we think is important in life. Our society teaches us to be selfish and that money defines who you are and how happy you can be. I have always said that I don't care how much money I make, so long as I love what I do everyday. Life isn't about the size of your bank account or how many friends you have. Life isn't about the material rewards. Life is about finding joy and beauty in the every day and in the relationships that you build. This is not only what has been most rewarding to me in my JV experience so far; this is what is most rewarding about life.

Love Your Neighbor Like Yourself

I am finding it more and more rare that my clients will really open up about their HIV or AIDS diagnosis. They tell me just about everything - struggles with family, substance abuse, and mental health; struggles financially - but when it comes to HIV, it goes un-talked about. I found myself completely caught off guard on Thursday when a couple I had never met before came into the pantry and the husband, a little Hispanic man from NYC, all of a sudden started telling me about his life and the 20 years he has been living with this diagnosis. He began to tell me that he a recovering IV drug user, and that when he lived in NYC, he would do just about anything to get high. I was surprised when he said that he was fully aware that he could get HIV by sharing needles, but sometimes the fear of becoming infected was overshadowed by the need to get high. One day when he was feeling desperate to shoot up, his cousin gave him the needle that he'd just used. He rinsed it under water until it did not seem like any blood remained from the previous user, and he used that same needle to get high.

Not long after that, he found out that his cousin was HIV+, so he went to get tested. Turns out that his cousin had known all along that he had HIV, but did not bother to tell my client. I was dumbfounded, so confused about how someone could put someone they love in clear danger. How can anyone knowingly infect someone else with a virus that will not only affect them for the rest of their lives, but has the potential to kill them?  I've been thinking a lot about what love means and why I feel so called to love each person I encounter regardless of who they are, where they've been, or what they've done.

I've always remembered the passage in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus says the two most important commandments are to love God with all your heart, soul and mind, and to love your neighbor like yourself. Jesus calls us to love each other, to respect each other's dignity, to embrace difference, to treat others like we ourselves would like to be treated. In reflecting on this passage of scripture the other night with my wonderful community, I started to wonder if these verses are what have informed my compassion throughout my life. I quickly realized that there was no way that it was scripture that sparked compassion inside of me, but that it is scripture and liberation theology in particular that continue to inform my love for the human race. My experiences growing up in East Hartford are what sparked my understanding of suffering, injustice, and pain. Hearing the stories of friends I had growing up and their struggles growing up in poverty, surrounded by violence and drugs - that's when I first experienced compassion.

It is because of those initial experiences with friends growing up that I become frustrated when people express such hatred for others or when people are judged by others because they are marginalized in some way. What good does it do the world if we all frown down upon those suffering from injustice? What kind of world do we create when we judge others based on appearance, sexual orientation, criminal record, or HIV status? Take that one step further: what are we saying to those who are infected or affected by HIV when we don't use condoms or clean needles and put ourselves at risk?

After writing my senior thesis, "HIV and the Sexual Practices of Fordham Students," I noticed that even though many students I spoke with were very educated about HIV and risk factors for becoming infected, that did not make them more likely to protect themselves. They talked more about fear of unwanted pregnancy than of becoming infected with STDs, especially HIV. It seemed as though HIV/AIDS was a taboo topic to discuss. I have been working with a 22-year old client a lot in the past few weeks. He is 12 days older than me and became infected with HIV because he got caught up in the moment and did not use protection. I think so much about my friends in college and the conversations I would have with them about sex. There was this general feeling of invincibility, like HIV could not happen to them, even though they were sleeping around.

For the past three years, after the amazing experience I had in Nashville in 2008 working with Nashville CARES, I promised myself that I would do everything I could to educate others about HIV/AIDS and how to protect themselves and their partners from infection. Since the day that Greg told us that he was HIV+, I promised that I would fight to see this epidemic be brought to an end - not for my safety or for that of my friends; but for the sake of each and every individual I have met in my life who is living with HIV or has been affected by it. My kids at Incarnation Children's Center, the men and women in Nashville, my clients here in Raleigh, the awesome guys I worked with at CARC in Hartford. We must love our neighbor like we love ourselves. Do you want to become infected with HIV? I'm guessing the answer is no. So why do we constantly put ourselves and others at risk? What role does love for humanity play in this? If we just stopped and focused on the common good rather than on selfishness, greed, and power - we could experience a love so close to what God's love for us must be like. We could create a better world based on peace and justice.

The world would be better off
if people tried to become better,
and people would be better
if they stopped trying to become better off.
For when everyone tries to become better off,
nobody is better off.
But when everyone tries to become better
everyone is better off.
Everyone would be rich
if nobody tried to become richer,
and nobody would be poor
if everyone tried to be the poorest.
And everybody would be what he ought to be
if everybody tried to be
what he wants the other fellow to be.

-Peter Maurin's "The Case for Utopia"-

Not One Step Back

It has been another beautiful weekend here in Raleigh, and the coming week's forecast is beautiful. Saturday brought about one of the most powerful days of my life as I joined up with hundreds of people for the annual HKonJ march and rally. HKonJ - Historic Thousand on Jones St - is a march and rally for justice organized by the North Carolina NAACP with 90 partner organizations and agencies. It began five years ago as a movement to encourage the state legislature to make change and to promote justice for all people. It's main purpose is to advocate for a 14 point People's Agenda that includes points such as quality education for all children; livable wages for all workers; health care for all; reforming the prison system; protecting the rights of immigrants; etc. (See http://www.hkonj.com/ for more).

The rally started outside Shaw University, the very location where the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee was founded decades ago. People were coming on the stage to pump everyone up, reminding us that we were here to move forward together, and not take one step back. I saw people of all ages, all races, all genders, standing side by side, fighting together for change; fighting together for justice and peace in our world. There was so much energy in the crowd - an energy fueled by a passion for justice, unlike any passion I'd ever seen. A spoken word artist came on stage and began talking about the Greensboro four - four black college students who wanted nothing more than to be accepted by society and to be treated like humans. The way the artist told their story was so moving, connecting many different issues besides racism. I began to look around the crowd that had gathered in preparation for the march to the state legislature on Jones St. They were begging for change, with signs that said: "End racism now." "Affordable health care now." "End AIDS." "Every child deserves a quality education." and many many others. I saw all the people. I saw all the signs. I felt like a part of a movement for the first time in my life. All these people were there for a common purpose - to see to it that justice is created in our world.

Rev. Barber, the president of the NC NAACP, began to speak once we got to Jones Street. I believe that each time I see him preach or speak, I am listening to a prophet. He is charismatic, and the passion and energy he exudes is unlike anyone I've ever heard speak. He captivates an audience with this charisma. He speaks out not only against racial injustice, but against all injustice. He connects faith so magically to the fight for social justice. He is truly a prophet of our time and I feel called to join the movement each time I hear him speak. Rev. Barber has the ability to connect with anyone - young or old, black or white, gay or straight. He speaks truth. He knows the reality and is not scared to stand up for what he believes is right: that which God created our world to be like, a world in which there is peace and justice for all people. And he brings people together, reminding us that we cannot do it alone, reminding us that it is about more than the moment - it is about the movement.

Next on stage was a high school aged young man, who I remember from September when he spoke at a prayer service for the Wake County School System. He had been arrested at a school board meeting while advocating for integrated, diverse schools for all. I have never been so entranced by a young person speaking; I was drawn into his every word. He took Rev. Barber's energy and charisma and carried it through his own speech. He apoke about the importance of diverse schools. Not only does it help distribute resources equally so that all children can receive the same quality educating, but being around students from different backgrounds and different experiences teaches a person perspective; it allows one to think for himself/herself; it encourages understanding; and it allows a young person to look outside themselves and see the complex web of human life and human relationships. As I listend to the young man speak, I thought of my own experiences in the East Hartford Public School System. I had many positive experiences growing up with students so different than myself, and looking back now, I realize that if I hadn't grown up in East Hartford and in it's public schools, I may not be where I am today - fighting for justice. I may not have been exposed to racism or poverty in my everyday. Listening to that young man fired me up and made me remember part of the anger the fueled my valedictory speech at graduation from high school. Injustice is not the answer to the problems of the world, yet so many school boards and local governments keep pushing injustice on its people.

I stood atop a wall as I watched and listened. Next to me was an older couple, who would later introduce themselves as the Irvings, long-time residents of Raleigh. Every once in a while, the wife would rub my back in an endearing way, but also in a motivating way, as though to say, "You can do it. You need to do it - for us. For all." I felt such an incredible connection to those strangers standing next to me, encouraging me. We stood together, sometimes arm-in-arm, listening to all of the incredible speakers who wanted to empower everyone in the crowd to keep fighting. Like the undocumented young lady who pays her taxes, and is tired of being reffered to as an "illegal alien". And then there was Darryl Hunt, exhonorrated after serving 19 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit. And then there was the CEO of the NAACP that reminded us that we are still fighting Jim Crow, though in a different way. He reminded us of the school system in Halifax County, NC where there are 8,000 children and three separate school districts - one that is 95% black; one that is 97% black; and one that's boundaries are juxtaposed down the middle, incorporating certain neighborhoods, and is 75% white. Injustice exists all around us.

Mrs. Irving linked armes with me and rubbed my back every once in a while. In a world of hatred, injustice, and oppression, I felt true love from a complete stranger. And then Rev. Barber told us to look at the person next to us and tell them: "You are my neighbor, and I love you. And I will fight for your family because your family is my family." I had tears in my eyes as I told Mrs. Irving this very thing. We really are one human family. We must fight together, hand-in-hand. We must fight for each other. We must fight for justice. We must fight for peace. HKonJ is the most powerful event I have ever attended. I feel inspired, empowered, educated, and ready to confront this fight head on - for the rest of my life because "We can't go back. We won't go back. No justice....no peace."





Forward Together. NOT ONE STEP BACK.

More Than Just The Girl Behind The Desk

I truly appreciate all the love, thoughts, and prayers sent my way after my last post. They were much needed. Things are still pretty tough out here. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed that I forget to appreciate the little things, and I bypass those "God moments". I'm slowly starting to remember to see the beauty in each moment and the blessings in each day. My clients have really brought my spirits up in the last week or two.

Over the past few months I have noticed an array of attitudes towards the services we offer at my agency. Three days a week, I run the food pantry and meet with about ten to fifteen clients a day those days (if not more). There are some clients who are always grateful for the assistance, and make sure to thank me before they leave. Even on the days when there is very little food in the pantry, they still express their gratitutde. These are the clients that make my day each and every day. They constantly remind me of why I love working with people and why it is so important for me to do what I do. I see God in each one of them as I watch our relationships grow over something as simple as sharing food. On the flip side, though, there are also clients who express a deep feeling of entitlement. If there is no fresh produce, they always make a point to remind me that there is none. When the food supply is low, they throw their arms up in the arm and growl at me. I had one client actually call me last week up in arms that there was only ground turkey in the freezer. This gets to be very frustrating, especially when I know my clients really count on us to provide them with the services they cannot get elsewhere. They often times come to the pantry so they can save the money they use at the grocery store and apply it to other bills and expenses. I also know that I work my butt off to make sure there is food in that pantry and to assure that I am doing my best to provide my clients with the services they need. This can be stressful and overwhelming, though, when that client sense of entitlement breaks through, as it often makes me feel like I am nothing more than 'the short girl behind the desk' to them. It affects me in hard ways sometimes and really challenges me to find new ways to provide services for them, while also finding ways to communicate with them that our assistance is not an unalienable right. It is something we are lucky enough to provide for them - whether it be assistance with food, prescription costs, transportation costs, or help with rent and utility bills.

This past week, I saw a combination of clients - those who are grateful and those who feel entitled. When the phone rang on Thursday morning, and I saw the phone number, I knew exactly which client was calling. This particular client expresses his love for me often and always says thank you for the littlest things - even if it just me telling him a good website to check out that talks about tenant rights. I was confused when he started yelling at me over the phone, not sure what I had done wrong. He started questioning the rules we abide by when it comes to the pantry, particularly our first come first serve policy. Then the words came out: "It is ridiculous that all of those people got to shop before me and only left me ground turkey for a meat." I took a deep breath and very sternly told him, "Kelly, listen to me for a minute. It is no one's fault that there was only ground turkey in the freezer. That is all that was available at the Food Bank. I cannot get meat besides what is at the Food Bank. Please just be grateful that there was any meat at all." After that, he backed down. He didn't apologize for blowing up, which I am ok with because he did say thank you. "Thanks for taking the time to listen, Ms. Cavaliere. I just needed to go right to the source to get the right answers. Thanks." As discourageed as I had grown in the middle of the conversation with him, by the end I realized that his own frustrations really have nothing to do with the ground turkey. I know this client so well as I have been working with him since the beginning of my time in Raleigh. Though in that moment he expressed some feeling of entitlement, I began to realize (after hanging up the phone and cooling down) that he really doesn't feel like he has a right to our services...he is realizing that he has grown dependent on them, a feeling that is far more challenging for him to deal with than his anger over ground turkey. He called me again on Friday, in a much happier mood, just to touch base with me about some things we had been working on together, such as figuring out what his rights are as a tenant and a renter.

Sometimes I just need a little time to process my daily interactions with clients. The learning moments may not be clear at first, but become crystal clear later on as I dive more deeply into a situation. There are those times, though, when my clients let me know exactly how they feel. Like last week when an older client came in to my office seeking financial assistance with her incredibly high electric bill. I was stunned when I saw how much her bill was for, especially knowing that she lives by herself. Like Kelly who I talked about above, I met Patricia at the very beginning of my time here. A loyal shopper at Under One Roof's food pantry, I see her twice a month without fail. And when I don't see her, I begin to worry - like the time she didn't show up in November and I had to find out from someone else that her mother had passed on. During our appointment, she kind of chuckled at me and said "What can you possibly do to help with this?" unaware that I do a little more than run the food pantry each day. We sat for an hour discussing ways in which she can alter her daily habits in order to conserve electricity, and thus lower her bill. She was very receptive to my ideas and continued to throw in her own ideas during our conversation. Together, we came up with a plan. Before she left, she gave me a big hug and said, "You know I love you, right? As though you are my own daughter."

Then there was another woman named Patricia. I mentioned her around Thanksgiving time when she told me, "I feel like I've finally found my family here," in reference to me. She just celebrated her 44th birthday and was excited to take some time for herself to celebrate. She has two young daughters who she has really dedicated her life to, and she often doesn't have a chance to step away and focus on herself for a night. She came in to shop at the pantry and told me she needed to talk to me first. She was so excited to tell me about the dinner she was planning with her friends. As she was talking, I started to get the feeling that she was going to ask if I was willing to babysit her girls. She started telling me all the details of the dinner: where they were going, what time they had to get there, etc. She says how she's only inviting a few friends, and looks at me and says, "One of them is you." I was so flattered and so grateful to know that Patricia sees me as more than the girl she talks to when she goes to the food pantry.

Things have been crazy, I'm not going to lie. One day, work is super busy and the next, it's as slow as it can be. And each day is a rollercoaster of sorts - new things I've learned, new perspectives, new ideas, new emotions. The greatest part of it all, though, is realizing that some of my clients look at me as more than just the girl behind the desk. They see me as a friend.

Lessons Along the Way

Overwhelmed with anger and other emotions the past two weeks, I've started to really think more deeply about my work, with focus on my clients as well as what it means to serve those clients and fight against HIV/AIDS in the process. The past couple of weeks have been very challenging as I watched two woman whom I care deeply about lose their jobs as we all sit and wonder why. Each passing day is a struggle as I try to figure out my role at my agency and how to best provide for my clients.

I have learned a lot about compassion and non-judgment in the past few months from my colleagues. They have opened my eyes to what it means to be with our clients and how I can approach them in a way in which they will feel comfortable. I remember some of my first appointments back in September. As I would listen to my clients tell me of their struggles and hardships, I recall trying to connect with them on some level, as though I have been through struggles and hardships equivalent to theirs. Some of them would look at me as if I was crazy trying to get on their level. Others would nod and just keep talking. I have realized that there is no way in which I understand the struggles my clients go through each day or the challenges with which they are presented. I have no idea what it is like to live in poverty; to be discriminated against based on my appearance; to live with a life-long, life-threatening disease; to feel uncomfortable sharing my deepest secrets with the people who care most about me. I do not remember a time in my life in which I wasn't allowed my basic needs of survival - shelter, food, water, support. I cannot connect with my clients on that personal level in which we can both share our stories and find the similarities because, at the end of the day, I do not know what it is like to live in their shoes; my shoes are very different than theirs.

A recently published article that I read talks about a gay white man living with HIV who works for an HIV/AIDS service organization that serves mostly African-Americans living in poverty, much like the agency I work for. The article describes the man as middle class. He owns his own small business and works full time at the HIV/AIDS service organization. The author writes that his experience with HIV is much like that of the people whom he serves. As I read the article a bit more and started to feel like I knew the man they were writing about, I found myself thinking about my clients and their experiences with HIV. Most of the clients I have met share with me that they struggle financially each day. They make just enough each month to pay for their basic needs, and sometimes do not have enough money to maintain a nutritional diet. Remember Michael who did not have $12 to see his son play basketball? Many of my clients share such struggles. The man who the article was written about seemed to have enough money to not only pay for his basic needs and to maintain a nutritional diet, but he also has enough money to get his HIV medications with no outside help besides that from his private insturance company. My clients often do not have health insurance, and if they do, it is Medicaid. Medicaid does not provide them with enough money to cover their medication costs, which leads them to need to seek assistance with our agency or with a federal program called ADAP - AIDS Drug Assistance Program. Another irony I found in this article was how stigma still penetrates our society when it comes to HIV. Here is a white gay man with a good job who lives with HIV - similar to the face of AIDS in the 1980s when it was considered a "homosexual" disease. Rather than the article focusing on the changing demographics of today's population living with the virus, they chose to focus in on the stigma that has been associated with the virus since Day 1.

How do I talk to my clients about their challenges and struggles when our society is still so caught up in the stigma associated with HIV/AIDS? How do I best approach a client in dialogue when their whole lives they have heard things like "you deserve this"? But mostly...how can I be confident that our HIV/AIDS service organizations across the country have our clients' best interests in mind when those who care more about the clients than about themselves are being fired? 

During Re-orientation last week, I realized how important it is for me to be an advocate for the rights of those living with the virus, as well as for those most at risk for becoming infected. However, I cannot advocate for my clients if my clients cannot advocate for themselves. Many do not even feel comfortable telling their family members about their HIV status out of fear that they will be disowned. They often feel like they have no support from those whom they crave that support from most. How can we expect them to stand up for themselves to complete strangers when they struggle so much to disclose their status to the people about whom they care the most? I especially know that it is not my opinion or voice that counts...it is theirs. They are the ones who need services and who know their situations best. How do we empower them to stand up and be heard?

I have learned a lot in these few months and am grateful for each and every moment. My only hope is that I will be able to answer some of the questions which I have posed to myself in these months. Please pray for my colleagues and my clients.

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?