Tag Archives: #solidarity

Companions, Not Champions

Our Backpack Journalism team has learned a lot about “letting go and letting God” over the last 48 hours.

This Monday we experienced our first unexpected complication when the airline cancelled our flight to Amsterdam – the one we had specifically booked together as a class months ago – merely days before our scheduled departure. We were suddenly thrust into an uncontrollable situation, forced to quickly change our original travel plans so that we could still guarantee an on-time arrival in Entebbe by the end of this week. Fortunately, thanks to John’s persistence with the travel agency and Delta Air Lines, we’ve all managed to procure seats on different flights. Unfortunately, we’re separated into smaller groups for our first international flight, meaning that we’ll need to be extra vigilant with our camera equipment (Although, John’s scared us enough about losing our gear and ruining the documentary that we’ll probably hold onto the devices like our lives depend on it…which, is not an implausible outcome should we – God forbid – leave behind a camera charger or tripod…).

Also, fun fact: Our class will reconvene next month in Amsterdam. I mean, sure, we’re only apart for one travel day, but it’ll be June 1 when we reunite so that technically counts! Funny how random coincidences like that happen, but I digress.

Your CU Backpack 2018 adventurers: [bottom row, left to right] Lizzy, Carol, Izzy (peekaboo!), Natalie, Ben, [top row, left to right] Brick, Matthew, John, Andrew, Tim, Zach and Jacob.

As you can probably imagine, the days leading up to our Uganda trip have been nothing short of hectic. We’ve withstood crash courses in videography and interviewing techniques; we’ve crammed in lessons on approaching trauma through a journalistic lens and critiquing postcolonial narratives in Africa; we’ve sustained an abbreviated seminar in ecclesiology and how the Church has redefined its mission and identity after the monumental Vatican II. On top of riding out an information tidal wave, we’ve scrambled to pack, take care of last minute obstacles, and fine tune the smaller details. It’s exhausting and overwhelming at times, but it’s also been a great bonding experience. I already feel significantly closer with individuals from this year’s Backpack group than I did at the beginning of Boot Camp, and I’m excited to continue fostering those deeper friendships as we brave the unknown together.

The chaos of Boot Camp has also helped influence me toward a more reflective mindset. As our preparations move from vision to reality, I find myself contemplating my motivation behind journeying into the developing world to witness suffering. What can I offer to a people who have endured hardships beyond my comprehension? Why am I going out to capture human devastation and another’s trauma when I know that our project will not make the impact necessary to improve that individual’s quality of life? What do I personally gain from exposing myself to the epicenter of a social justice issue?

These are difficult questions, but necessary ones. Too often we who come from privileged places fail to examine our own motives before entering vulnerable spaces. We’re quick to presume that any minor charitable action compensates our shallower intentions. We readily perpetuate dominant, egocentric narratives to dismiss the uncomfortable truths that make up realities on the margins. We assume that our willingness to engage with impoverished individuals points to our inherently good, altruistic nature. We don’t like discomfort; we’re more content to pretend we’re the solution rather than to acknowledge when we are the problem.

Undisputed acceptance of myths born from entitlement is a dangerous practice and can be particularly harmful to the community you interact with. Sans critical self-examination, one unwittingly falls prey to the trappings of volunteerism, a form of dehumanizing people who are suffering by capitalizing on their image to boost your own social status. Furthermore, you can become tone deaf to oppression – especially when you stand to benefit from injustices.

I won’t pretend that I haven’t subscribed to some of these injurious attitudes in the past, nor will I claim that I am capable of perceiving my own cultural blindspots. To be honest, I’m still trying to figure out whether my inclination to pursue social justice stories is entirely pure.

Although I don’t have the answers to all my questions yet, I do know one thing for certain: that Backpack Journalism is an opportunity for accompaniment, not achievement.

In “Unfinished Houses: Building the kingdom on God’s time,” John J. McLaughlin argues that the most important component to service work is developing meaningful relationships with the individuals you serve. It’s not about completing work that will make a discernible impact or fixing the issue, although those efforts are not without their value. Rather, it’s about surrendering yourself “totally to God and God’s poor,” listening to those who are suffering, doing your own small part, and leaving the rest to God – a practical application of let go and let God, if you will.

And that is fundamentally what Backpack Journalism is about. We are not called to be champions for the refugee crisis, but we have been given a chance to form companionships with each other and the people we’ll encounter. We probably won’t affect as much change in these individuals as they will in us, but that is the beauty of accompaniment: the human relationships you experience have the power to follow your heart and mind even after you’re gone.

As for me, I’m working to keep my heart and mind open.

The Head Vs. the Heart

As we wrapped up our experience in Nogales, I couldn’t help but feel wholeness in my heart after hearing the stories of various individuals but also living amongst those who have lived a life of anguish yet still remained full of hope. However, the complexity of this issue left me with questions unanswered because while the solution to migration lies within humanizing those who suffer, the end to this issue could take much longer for the rest of the population to realize.

Our journey to Nogales was never meant to solve migration. The migrants we walked with and lived alongside with allowed us to see that in even the hardest circumstances, each individual should be treated with dignity, a right that cannot be taken away from them no matter what a government thinks is acceptable punishment. After hearing heartbreaking personal stories and understanding a migrant’s fate called out into a federal courtroom, I know that there is injustice in our society in the treatment of those who suffer. I know because I have seen the effects this inequality has on others and how it has become ingrained into our society.

Flood the System
Artwork I stumbled upon in immigration attorney Isabel Garcia’s office. After my experience in Nogales, there is traction in steps towards creating a more just system of approaching immigration, but many aspects need to be changed.

Dr. O’Keefe made a point in his lecture during our trip that really opened my eyes to what it means to stand in solidarity with others. This is by no means as eloquent as it was when I first heard it, but I’ll try to explain it as accurately as possible. Dr. O’Keefe explained that after his first experience working with marginalized communities, what was once knowledge on the subject that may have been known mentally before being immersed in the community moves and settles in the heart and becomes a much more personal issue after being awakened and made aware of the realities that others may suffer.

It is societal nature to desire to categorize one another and put each other into little boxes that fit us with others who may be like us. Sadly, it’s instinct to want to push rich people to one side and the impoverished to the other, those with fairer skin to one side and those with darker skin to the other, those with brilliant minds and those who were not given those opportunities lie on different sides of the spectrum. We’re so caught up in wanting to organize our lives one way or another that we lose sight of the unity of humanity. No matter what characteristics or life experience we have in common or differ from one another, we all have a purpose on this earth. Some of us may know this reason and may be living out this purpose while others may be searching for what they were destined to do and who they were destined to become, but it’s up to each of us to recognize that a human life, with all of its faults and perfections, is a gift no matter what.