My Freedom Is Your Oppression
This slide is in every, single presentation I give. It applies to us all, no one is free until we all are.
Last summer I was sitting on a ferry on the Thames river. It was a delightful day in London weather-wise, but the city was kicking our butts that day. Nothing was working out. I had stopped off in England to see good friends on my way to Beirut. We were on the ferry after waiting hours to get on to go across London. It was the most efficient and cheapest way. Except it wasn’t efficient at all. But it was scenic! From the ferry, you can see Parliament, The Eye of London, Big Ben, and the Tower of London. I was thoroughly enjoying sitting down after hours of walking with a breeze and the sun shining on my face
At one of the stops a large crowd got on – a large family of Orthodox Jews about twenty in all. They took over the ferry. The women had wigs on to hide their hair, the men had the tall black hats and curls coming down their sideburns. They didn’t engage anyone on the boat. They sat around us, leaving empty seats between us. One man sat next to me, realized I was not with his group, and immediately got up. Unclean!
I’ve been around Orthodox before - Muslim, Christian, and Buddhist monks. It doesn’t matter the religion, as a single woman I am one of the untouchables. It doesn’t leave me with a good feeling. So, as I observed this family, I had loads of feelings rise to the surface. One, my Palestinian friends would be aghast. Two, I was a little in culture shock. Three, I was feeling anger rise up.
So, I decided to check my feelings and be quiet. I observed. I imagined this family was from Israel, they were speaking Hebrew. What if they were settlers? What would they think of me if they knew? What did they think of Palestinians? Wait, what if they were from New York? I couldn’t possibly know because they were not going to talk to me.
As my mind raced, I watched them hold their babies and be in awe of the sights of London. They were enjoying themselves and excited to be on the Thames on a rare beautiful, sunny London day.
Just like me.
The paralyzing thought came over me that while they were enjoying this luxury, my Palestinian friends would never have this kind of freedom. This family’s freedom and privilege came at the expense - at the oppression of others. Others that I know and love deeply. Tears started to stream down my face at the injustice of it all. To be clear, I didn’t want the injustices that were done to Palestinians, done to this family. I didn’t wish them harm, on the contrary. My thought process led me to a chilling conclusion while I was judging the family in front of me - I also have freedom and privilege, I also can travel and experience the delights of London. My Palestinian friends can’t, but I sure can. My freedom also comes at the expense and oppression of others – minorities in my country and others across the world.
It’s a hard truth to sit with and to hold in one’s heart. Especially since I have spent almost half my life using my rights on the behalf of others.
I have been purposefully quiet during the BLM protests. After 17 years of working and fighting for the rights of Palestinians, I am fully supporting this movement. It is beyond time we address 400 years of slavery, oppression, and racism that our country was built on. I cannot work on behalf of Palestinian rights and deny the oppression of others. It isn’t possible for my heart or my faith as a Christian. There is no freedom for any of us as long as our fellow human beings remain in chains. To believe otherwise is to believe a lie that we are not all interconnected.
We are.
Humanity is connected.
I have been taking in what the Black community is saying and doing the past few weeks. I have been listening to the anger and the pain. Every time I get on social media, I cringe at what white people are posting. White people, I mean this with all due respect, shut the hell up. Seriously. Please, be quiet and listen. It’s not the time for your opinion on how the community is fighting or standing up for their basic human rights. It’s not a time to critique and decide if they are doing things the right way. Or in a way that is comfortable for you. The amount of privilege we must have to believe we have the RIGHT to say whatever we want, whenever we want. Regardless of how it comes across to those that our privilege is actively crushing.
It is a time for us to get really uncomfortable.
It is time to start looking at our privilege. It’s time to look at how we have benefited from a system set up to favor us. It’s time to educate ourselves on the Black American experience. I have never once asked a Palestinian to educate me on their injustice. I have listened to their stories when they want to share and witnessed their situation myself. I took the initiative to educate myself, continually over 17 years. It never ends. And you know what, I keep learning, I keep diving farther down the rabbit hole into more painful truths. It hurts, you guys, it hurts to see how we discard human life, both in subtle and overt ways. How I can discard and crush human life.
This is bigger than changing your profile picture on social media. This is bigger than attending a protest and taking pictures. Are you willing to help dismantle a system that favors you and your kind?
Because it will cost you everything.
Are you willing to get uncomfortable? Because it’s not about you feeling good about anything right now. Are you willing to look at your own motives? Your own guilt? Your own bigotry? Are you willing to be led by the Black community? Are you willing to bear witness? Are you willing to lose everything – your reputation, your wealth, your security, your own family and community to ensure equality for everyone in this country and world?
Are you ready to put your own body on the line?
That’s the cost.
It will take maturity and it will take courage.
Recently, I was driving home after an early morning walk with a friend. It was still very early. I drove past an older gentleman standing alone on the corner of a back street in suburbia USA with a BLM sign. Please note this is one white suburb. I immediately pulled over to him and told him with tears streaming down my face, “well done.”
His simple act undid me. Can you imagine the courage it took for him to remind others, others possibly unphased by this movement, that Black Lives Matter?
That’s the first step, to risk everything, to be courageous in a simple act of protest, of bearing witness to the suffering and injustice of others.
To be able to move forward.