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Talkin' About a Revolution ...


Often I find power and comfort in the simplest concepts.

“The most revolutionary thing we can do is introduce people to each other.”

Writing my mother’s eulogy three weeks ago, I stumbled upon that quote, with no attribution. It’s a perfect concept for mom, who mortified me as a young girl when she spoke to strangers while we waited in line at a movie theater or grocery store. Perfect concept for mom, who in her 80s chaired the welcome committee at her retirement building, orienting new residents to their apartment and to the community.

I’ve been reflecting on simple interactions, introductions, in this time when migrant children are being taken from their parents inside our border, in buildings where the lights are kept on at night, resulting in sleep deprivation; when memes abound making accusations against people we don’t know, placing false quotes over their heads; when parents raising young men of color have to plan out “the talk” to prepare their sons to survive being pulled over for a broken taillight; when Palestinian and Israeli Jewish children, with so much in common needed for their survival, grow up fearing and hating each other; and when we here have voted in a President who, back during the campaign, demeaned many communities, as well openly mocking an adult with a physical disability.

When we are introduced to each other, it’s harder to fall back on stereotypes, harder to fear, harder to hate. When we are introduced to each other, we find we are more similar than we would have guessed, and we often find value and joy in our differences.

Think about what happens when we prevent introductions, such as "Don’t Ask Don’t Tell." That military policy, begun in 1994, allowed gay men and lesbians to serve in uniform only as long as they hid their identity. That policy not only required something of gay servicepeople not required of others (to lie about their lives and hide the existence of their partners), it did something else. Ironically, the main way individuals move past stereotypes about someone — getting to know a gay person or finding out someone they already know and respect is gay — was the one path closed off until the policy was overturned in 2011.

Much is being said lately about who does and does not love our country, and what one should do if not happy with policies and practices in the U.S. To me, to love our country is to want it to be the best it can be, which means ensuring it is safe and just and uplifting for all of us, not just for some of us. And to truly listen to those who are struggling.

One step may well be simply to introduce people to each other. Many worthwhile organizations do this. Our Outward Bound site in Baltimore brings police and teenagers of color together through outdoor challenge. I am heartened to hear about efforts to bring together survivors of gun violence with those who disagree with proposed gun safety/public health legislation, and dialogues between people of different political parties. At my Boston synagogue, Temple Israel, the annual Martin Luther King, Jr. service features lessons from Black leaders; this year’s speech by newly-elected congresswoman Ayanna Pressley was electrifying, as she introduced herself to long-time and new Jewish colleagues.

Introduction as revolution. To revolve is to turn. At an interfaith service three days after the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombing, I breathed in the wisdoms of President Obama, Governor Patrick and Mayor Menino. They reminded us that we will survive and thrive when, in the darkest of times, we turn TO each other, we don’t turn ON each other.

Mom, who often introduced people to each other, wasn’t even a true extrovert, and neither do we need to be, in order to introduce ourselves. Her own shyness or insecurities allowed Mom to know what it might mean to others to be introduced, to be welcomed, to be known. I think on some level she also knew that in reaching out to help others, she could soothe and soften her own broken or hard parts.

Introducing ourselves can be on a grand scale or in daily life, with a smile to a homeless man on the street who has been taunted (perhaps he is a veteran or is facing down addiction without a treatment bed available), or direct eye contact and a thank you to someone in a service industry who is used to being ignored, or slowing down to notice people around us who need help.

Like many of you, I’ve oftentimes done those things (I am, after all, my mother’s daughter). Now, though, I find deeper meaning and comfort not only in donating to causes that bring people together, but in those simple daily connections. It means Mom will forever be alive in me and those I meet.

Mom (Marge Levy) with me in March of 2019 and back when I was 8.

chasing social justice

 

This blog builds on concepts I have developed over 30 years working to advance social justice.  My aim here is to address areas where our country seems stuck (or is taking a few steps backward), offering ideas and frameworks useful to current and future activists and advocates.

 

Here you will find my own writings; posts I help colleagues to write; and compositions by others that bridge the divide in our polarized culture -- in service of a more compassionate, forward-thinking and "level" society. 

 

Please share your reactions, questions and ideas, either with an individual email to me (CONTACT button above) or by posting in the COMMENTS SECTION AT THE BOTTOM OF EACH PAGE.

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