A year ago I was immersed in a project to improve the way Sand Point Housing residents are treated by management. I had heard stories directly from residents about what was amiss. I had some comrades in wanting to address the injustice. I loved the idea of using my privilege to make headway on behalf of those lacking privilege. The way forward did not seem complicated. It appeared to involve writing letters, scheduling and attending meetings with officials, granting interviews, writing articles, attending local events, and planning together with my comrades. Wow, it sounded so fun and exciting! I had spent two years learning about power and privilege and the root causes of racism. I wanted to make a difference but did not find it appealing to participate in protests. I wanted to do something constructive and I wanted to do it in my own neighborhood. I wanted to do it in partnership with my neighbors and on behalf of neighbors. I wanted to build connection with the residents of Sand Point Housing and I saw that such connection would be a likely by-product of this kind of activism.
The first step we took was to write a strongly worded letter to the mayor about the situation, with copies sent to the press. I enjoyed working on this letter. The letter did get a bit of press. We also got immediate feedback from Solid Ground, the non-profit that is managing the housing and doing a poor job of it. The CEO of Solid Ground offered to meet with us, and the marketing director wrote an "anonymous" letter to me about the harm that I had done, which made me feel bad and took me a few days to recover from.
After that, I attended a couple of Solid Ground board meetings and met with the board president, and I arranged a meeting with our city council representative. Someone obtained the legal contracts that Solid Ground has made with the city, and I spent several hours reading and summarizing them. But other than that, although we have met every month or two, we have taken NO action in the past year! Even though I have plenty of ideas about effective actions we could take. I found, to my surprise and dismay, that I had very little motivation to move forward. What the hell was going on?
Just now I settled down with my inner child and had a talk with her about it. I asked her why she doesn't want to move forward. She said, "It's going to be too hard!"
After giving her some tender affection, I asked, "What seems hard about it?" She responded with the following:
It will be hard to make decisions about what to do next. I will be faced with doubt and confusion at every turn.
I will feel lonely unless I have one or two close partners in this work, the way that E was my close partner in the business we founded together.
I may not be successful. I may do harm.
There's nothing making me do the work, and at any moment I'd rather do things that are less fraught or more fun, like cooking, organizing, writing, visiting, or watching movies.
These are worthy of further exploration.
When I see myself retreat from projects that are hard, sometimes I despair and think that I'm a quitter, just someone who doesn't follow through on anything unless it's within a structure of some authority seeming to force me to do it, or unless it's for a tangible reward of money or acclaim. But then I notice my steadfast dedication to my spiritual life, and I see that I am not a quitter.
No comments:
Post a Comment