"Turn to your neighbor," the presenter at the MLK Day Celebration said, "and say 'Neighbor, we're not there yet,'" and so, I did. "but we'll get there…" she added, "if we work together..." The crowded Concordia gym was loud with echoes. "and, neighbor," she stressed it, "I'll do my part...'" I repeated, "if you do your part…" My 'neighbor' was a teenager sitting behind and to the right of me. He's African-American, I'm white. I knew nothing about him, had no context, felt no assurance that he would believe me, but it felt electrifying, as seemed the spirit of the entire crowd around us. In those few words to him, and from him, however, we ignored and transcended that space of unknowns between strangers—which we are quick to leave unknown. We said what we are quick not to say, and made a promise to a complete stranger, a promise that was direct and meaningful. And I don't take promises lightly.
I wasn't able to stay for the Celebration for long. But it was certainly moving to be with people, in one place, and realize that indeed, we are not the only ones who care. We, as individuals, are not the only ones who notice, who get upset, who get sad, who feel we have to do something, say something. We are, individually, being gathered and encouraged by those who also feel those same things, but courageously lead us into an unknown, but more righteous way of existence, as people, together. And so, I hope, that beyond a particular day when events are coordinated to help us remember particularly great people who have done great and sacrificial things, that we will hold ourselves accountable to the convictions that get stirred and the promises we consequently make on such days. For me, that means I must be true to my neighbor from that day in a college gym—even if I never meet him again.
Becky Hampton
VISTA at Minnesota Internship Center
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment