Racism and Compassion

I can't quite believe that after over a month of working, school, and fundraising without a single day off, I am just 8 days away from leaving for Uganda - FINALLY!

Fundraising has been much more difficult, exhausting, and frustrating than I had anticipated. Even after a letter-writing campaign, Art Show & Silent Auction, fundraising BBQ, Karaoke event, Art Festival Booth, Bake Sale, professional presentation, and several business contributions, none of us were able to meet our fundraising goals. The individuals that did give were more than generous - and we are hugely grateful - but they were not a large group. And it has me wondering why. I mean, I have always worked with non-profits and have done more than my share of fundraising, so I'd say I have a fairly large basis of comparison, and the truth is that there has been something different about this particular fundraising effort. Some have chalked it up to the economy, but I get the sense that there is a lot more to it. Part of me wonders if it a collective loss of hope. In situations where I expect people to get fired up, I am instead met with glazed-over faces and even flat-out refusals to care. Are people just burnt-out and tired of feeling helpless? Is it compassion-fatigue? I don't think it is. I don't think it is about money and I don't think it's about weariness...I think it's about WHO we are talking about. We are talking about "over there," Africans, black people.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but racial and ethnic issues have never been at the top of my concerns for social issues. Maybe it's because I'm white and it doesn't affect me much in my daily life. Maybe I'm more focused on issues that impact people regardless of color (this is the one I prefer to believe). Whatever the reason, the point is that my first inclinition is not to cry "Racism!" in the face of injustice. That's why I really am so surprised with the responses I have been getting about this Uganda trip. I have been stunned to silence when, as I tell people about our trip, they wave it off saying "yeah, but that's Africa"...and your point is?... Perhaps Africa seems way too far away to be real. Maybe the civil unrest and misery seems the norm for that continent. It may be that the problem seems to big to do anything about. Or could it be that the faces that come to mind when we talk about the atrocities in Uganda are of black people? Are we, as (white) Americans, less inclined to identify with a black person? Do we feel the pain of a black person less than we would of a fellow white person? Be honest with yourself. These are questions that I have had to face myself, and I have to admit that the answers I came up with were not as politically-correct as I would have liked to believe. It was not until I really started immersing myself in the plight of the Ugandan people that I really started to feel it on a personal level. As embarassing as it is to own up to, I was able to personally connect more immediately to stories that I heard of white women who had suffered these assaults than when it was an African woman. It is because I am evil and racist? Absolutely not. It is a proven psychological phenomenon that we are programmed to identify with those that look like us, and distance from those that don't. It is a basic in-group/out-group distinction. But that only explains our initial reaction. We are completely responsible for what happens after that. And I believe that what should happen next is that you ask yourself "why would I feel that way?"

The truth is, regardless of skin color, culture, nationality, or religion, we share something very profound with the Ugandan people: humanity. It doesn't matter how many wars have occurred on African soil, how much poverty exists, or how "used to it" they may be - their pain is the same pain we would feel if it were to happen to us. It is no less intense or devastating just because they are African. A mother loses her child to the rebel army or sex slavery: her anguish is the same whether she is black or white. A child is raped and orphaned: she cries the same tears regardless of her skin color.

Imagine this:
I have hard-evidence and government confirmation that a cult is invading communities in the dead of the night and kidnapping children while they sleep. Before they take the children, they force them to slaughter their own parents as the first step in brainwashing. The little girls are kept as sex slaves for the cult leaders. The little boys are turned into serial killers and forced to go on murder-sprees to prove their allegiance to the cult. Over the past 20 years, this cult has kidnapped over 60,000 children across the northern U.S. The government has known about this, and has launched half-hearted efforts to intervene. Instead of addressing the problem directly, they simply tell the frightened citizens that they should move to an area that is safer. Over 2 million people in the northern U.S. have abandoned their homes and lives, and are now homeless and dispersed throughout the Midwest. Because the families affected are from rural and lower-income areas, they have not had the means to gather support and attention for this ongoing atrocity. Instead, they struggle alone with their grief, fear, and despair. They are ignored by their own government and people. They are disposable.

Can you imagine the outrage that would be raised if this were to be released to the American press?! If we found out that our own children were subjected to these horrors on such a massive and centralized scale? All those precious little faces and big eyes searching for comfort and safety? Just replace the "U.S." with "Uganda" in the above paragraph and that is just the beginning of what has been happening to the people there. Why does it matter more to us if those precious little faces are black or white, African or American? Why does a human life have more value depending on where she is born? I don't think it does. I believe that we need to move toward a perspective of global citizenship, focusing on our shared humanity rather than our differences. I challenge you to think about the causes that really grip your heart, and question why that cause is more salient than others for you. We are all called to different things - that in itself is not wrong. But I hope that you will be willing to admit to yourself if there are other reasons that you care more about one thing over another. I had to. It's not fun, but it may just change the way you see the world.