The Curved Path

Happy third anniversary, Nathan!

"Ultimately there comes a time when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take. It is indeed a fearful gamble. Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created. To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take. If we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession, but participation. It takes a lifetime to learn another person. When love is not possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling."

Posted by kebojo at 10:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Early morning, April four

Shot rings out in the Memphis sky

Free at last, they took your life

They could not take your pride

- U2, "In the Name of Love"

Dr. King gave this speech the night before he was assassinated forty years ago on April 4th, 1968. It is eerily prescient, and its message is still powerfully relevant today, when the luminous promises of the Civil Rights Movement still have not been delivered in full to black people in America. Legal integration has been a reality for decades, but systemic racism is still at large. The dream is not yet reality.

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to interview Bakari Kitwana, a standout figure in what has been called the hip-hop generation. He had some astounding insights into today's complex racial climate that, without discrediting the work of Civil Rights leaders, made it clear that it's not enough to rest on Dr. King's laurels. From my article:

...The hip-hop generation has grown up in a world that found a completely new way to marginalize young blacks. They are the first to enjoy the fruits of the civil rights movement, living in a society where rights aren’t explicitly denied based on race. But this also means, Kitwana says, young black people are living in "an American dream that doesn’t fit anymore." Because they grew up without legal constraints, this generation of black citizens were led to believe that they were full and equal partners in American society. But though legal restrictions have been abolished, institutionalized racism and de facto discrimination remain, producing a jarring mix of apathy and anger in those affected.

According to Kitwana, the hip-hop generation needs to be given the authority to address these challenges. "Although the ideas at the core of the civil rights era are still relevant to today’s political landscape (equality, inclusion, and the like)," he wrote in The Hip Hop Generation, "the manner in which they are now being articulated does not translate meaningfully into the ways these issues are manifest among the younger generation."

These statements don’t indicate disrespect or ingratitude toward civil rights leaders. Rather, Kitwana simply encourages them to pass the torch to the next generation. He cites There is a River, by civil rights historian Vincent Harding, as the inspiration for this idea. The "river" in the title is a metaphor for the forward march of African Americans, kept flowing by those willing to jump in. But the book only documents the river’s movement through the civil rights era. Kitwana says it can’t end there: It’s time for hip-hoppers to get wet. "It’s our generation’s turn to jump into the river of struggle to keep it moving."

Dr. King had been to the mountaintop, but the victories he foresaw didn't end with the abolition of segregation. The struggle today is as crucial as the one pioneered by our Civil Rights heroes. In some ways, it is also more difficult, simply because it is more complex. Why do many black people continue to live in a poverty bigger than their own choices? Why do the public schools in my city neighborhood, which are 99% black, continue to show devastatingly low test scores and bristle with violence? When I got mugged last year, why did the police detain a young kid, just minding his own business, even after I insisted that he was not the criminal? Why did the look on that kid's face tell me that he had been there before and knew he would be there again? These questions - and their answers - are deeply woven into our society's fabric, but they also seem inscrutable.

I don't know what Dr. King would think about those questions and their answers. Sometimes I feel he must be very disappointed. But good work is being done by anti-racist groups like Crossroads, whose immersion seminars could rock the world of anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. And Dr. King would surely be proud of Barack Obama and the shift in society that allows him to be electable.

Even so, we must do more. It is not enough to point to triumphs like Obama and say, "See? We're not racist." The media flap over Obama's "inflammatory" former pastor demonstrates that quite clearly. In this day and age, Dr. King's legacy is that our work is never done. We will always have more to struggle for, more to do, because the poor will always be with us, as King himself preached:

"It's all right to talk about long white robes over yonder, in all of its symbolism. But ultimately people want some suits and dresses and shoes to wear down here! It's all right to talk about streets flowing with milk and honey, but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here, and his children who can't eat three square meals a day. It's all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day, God's preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do."

More on a certain kind of fire:
> Barack Obama's speech on race
> Dr. King's son takes up the cause against poverty
> A closer look at black liberation theology from NPR
> Adam Taylor on reclaiming MLK's radical vision

Posted by kebojo at 11:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Living vicariously through my dear friend and international relief superstar Sarah M. is an old pastime of mine. Most recently, she realized my ultimate fantasy of appearing on a public radio program.

Far better her than me, though - only Sarah could speak so eloquently about the issue at hand on PRI's The World, namely gender-based violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She is the GBV coordinator for a large aid organization there, where she works with women whose bodies are used as pawns in violent conflict.

>> Listen to Sarah on PRI's The World, or read the full transcript of the interview.

A month ago, I sat in a funky Brookline hair salon with Sarah, catching up at the beginning of her holiday leave. She was still jet-lagged and culture-shocked, and the first order of business (after breakfast) was a cut and color. I ended up asking her about the women she knows in DRC, and why the hell so many of them are getting raped, and what the hell anybody could do about it.

(I can only guess what the stylist, coating Sarah's hair with dye and folding it carefully into aluminum foil squares, thought about this conversation. Possibly "God, lighten up and read Marie Claire, already.")

Sarah's stories, and her partly sad, partly angry, completely fatigued statement that "I'm really tired of rape," haven't left me since. Neither has her reply to a question I asked the previous evening, almost hypothetically, during a discussion about Philip Pullman's Golden Compass series. I was blathering about the tension between free will and determinism in the books, explaining how a dictatorial church would stop at nothing to prevent the heroine from causing a second fall. I think I asked something like, "If you had the chance to prevent the fall, even if it meant taking away free will, would you? I wouldn't."

I wasn't even sure Sarah was still awake at that point, a glass of wine tilting precariously in her hand, the jet lag taking over. "I would," she said, suddenly looking at me, smiling her Sarah half-smile. I saw a lot of things in her sleepy eyes just then.

She says she's tired of rape. She's more cosmopolitan, a true expatriate, than the last time I saw her; more detached from her work in a necessary, healthy way than she has been in the past. One must be blase after a certain point, or else live in a non-stop hell of emotions, fear, hatred, hope, despair.

But here is a woman who has seen what people can do to each other, and who says she would stop it all if she could. It left me feeling conflicted, and gladder than ever to call her my friend.

More about DRC gender-based violence:
> NYT: Rape Epidemic Raises Trauma of Congo War (with excellent slideshow)
> Eve Ensler reports in Glamour
> Anderson Cooper on the DRC conflict

(Hi, by the way. I am unceremoniously back.)

Posted by kebojo at 8:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)