It’s a problem that we still allow ignorance to turn cultures into threats and let fear change constitutional rights into a compromise of sanctity or national security. It is moments like this that I am most disappointed to be human, to be American, the moments when people choose to not allow others to live freely.

This past weekend I got the opportunity to meet a guy named Eboo Patel. He is the executive director of an organization called Interfaith Youth Core (IYC) and also a Rhodes Scholar who studied sociology and divinity at Oxford. Needless to say I was looking forward to hearing his speech at Loyola University this past Friday night.

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“The unexamined life is not worth living.” This is my reflection of this summer, but as I “reflect” I want to be aware and show my appreciation for the ability and privilege to “reflect.”  When Socrates made that statement I don’t believe he took into account what must take place for one to be able to constantly reflect on their life. Many people do not have the luxury to reflect on summers that were learning experiences. It is hard to examine your life when your dodging bullets or trying to make sure you have food to put on the dinner table. There are so many processes (like having the comfort and the security to just sit, think, examine, learn, and eventually grow) that are overlooked and seen as simple and healthy proxies. I never want to take these practices for granted, and want to always show homage to those that came before me and made it possible for me to be where I am today. These things would include my parents, my community, my grandmother, and my mentors, without these things I don’t know where I would be.

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What happens when you answer the phone to the sound of your mother crying on a hospital bed asking for a kidney? Not a figurative request that represents the love and affection that is due to the person who deposited life into you on the day of birth. Not a theoretical entreaty that allows one to peruse the peripheral areas of reality under the protection of the hypothetical. Not a demand that persuades one to act out of trepidation and fear. No, what if your mother made a simple appeal saying “I need you to get tested, dialysis is no longer working.” What happens when the kindest person you have ever encountered, goes through so much natural pain. What happens when technology and globalization have never been so hard to cope with, when your mother asks for a kidney from hundreds of miles away? No eye contact, no affectionate hug and kiss, just her voice through the speaker of a five inch blackberry tour. What happens when you answer that phone call and feel the tears from a woman’s face that you love, and you don’t have the choice to face her?

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Jimmy Santiago Baca, a leading contemporary Latino poet writing in the United States, reminds us that “Poetry’s mission is to subvert, to question, to challenge, provoke, to flail one’s vulnerability and voice into the marvelous whirlwind of poetry’s awe, flagging at the horns of the raging beast that is societies gluttonous comfort, ‘bringing social justice’…affirm poetry at any cost”

I ran into this quote (written above) and it inspired me to post a poem today. In light of Prop 8 being repealed last week the poem below has been dedicated to all those who are at a point of personal stress from being marginalized that they may not be focusing on the fight for gay marrige. Or you could just say this is for the boys and girls and men and women, who are focused on their personal struggle of coming out the closet. This is a stage that most in the LGBTQ community have labored through. For the last couple days I have adorned my “Legalize Gay, repeal prop 8” T-Shirt. (For all those who have something against our media, a Judge in California repeal proposition 8 a week ago.) So as most people want to focus on systemic issues (even myself at times) this poem is about the personal individual struggles that youth and adults (for those who came out a little later in life) fight through.

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People love using band-aids. As a little kid I can remember the security I felt after scraping my knee on the asphalt and receiving the ritual of having my grandmother comfort me through my childhood tears by offering a dab of Neosporin and a fresh band-aid. The band-aid made everything feel better. It covered up the ugly problem that lingered below. It helped make the bleeding stop. Band-aids were great when I was five (especially the ones with the Flintstone design), but unfortunately 15 years later I am starting to look at band-aids from a different perspective.

I have come to believe that band-aids do not prevent harm from happening, they only aid in the aftereffects of a greater problem. Everywhere I look in society, on various administrative levels I observe institutions placing band-aids on problems that exist.

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The more one walks around as a black male, the more one gets acclimatized to people’s negative assumptions about his life.

I’m use to it. I’m use to the stereotypes, the pre-judgments, and the general ignorance. But yesterday, for the first time in my life I felt as though someone talked to me like I was in some “inner-upper-class-circle.” I didn’t like it.

The woman was black and appeared to be middle aged. (we’ll call her Ms.Privilege for narrow intents and purposes) The conversation started off nicely. She noticed a folder that had the word “summerlinks” written on it (The program at University of Chicago that gave me the grant to work at an internship this summer).  She realized I was a student as U of C, and I can only assume that she took this information and attached a connotation to it that didn’t exist. (You know, black male student at Ivy+ School, he must be from money, right?).

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You probably already know this, but I believe in equality. I want to see equality in the education system, I want to see equality in the distribution of resources amongst different socio-economic backgrounds across the country, I even wish to see equality for people who serve jail time and are re-entered into society. But I never would have desired for Catholic pedophile priests and Catholic clergywomen to be made equal and both accused of being guilty of the gravest crimes in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Well this is exactly what has happened last Thursday, when the Vatican issued a proclamation to address both of these issues.

At times, tradition irritates the hell out of me (no pun intended). This is one of those times. While I am happy that the proclamation is finally doing something about the priests who choose to steal the innocence of little children, I am disappointed that due to traditionalist values the catholic church has decided to remain in the stone ages and not allow women to become priests. The occurrence of inequality is at least fathomable when you can blame it on the mistakes of people’s prejudgments and poor decisions. But inequality is unequivocally senseless when the qualities people are born with become the basis for its existence. Yes, this is corroborated by what we find on many non-profit mission statements, “we do not discriminate due to race, gender, or sexual orientation.”

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No…Move.

I never noticed how rude people could be when you attempt to impose on 15 seconds of their time. I personally give a polite and to the point “no thanks” when I am randomly asked by the most recent “surveyor/save the planet/heal the animals/sign this petition to save the world person.” By no means would I ever tell one of these individuals “No…Move.” But on the day that I was given the opportunity/duty to take the role of a surveyor I now see these individuals in a different light, and empathize with them a lot more. It is amazing to me how many times in a day we neglect to put ourselves in other people’s shoes, to see through another man’s eyes. The world would be so much better if we made a constant effort to leave ourselves (if only for a moment) and try to understand the lives of the people around us. (Sorry, I feel like I’m preaching again)

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I would like to “think” my world different. A life free of disease, hurt, and pain. While watching the BET awards I noticed people are still stunned by the death of Michael Jackson, (especially Chris Brown and his fake tears). But I must admit no one close to me has yet to die. I want to imagine a place where science can fix every sickness and tears were no longer based on health—or the lack thereof. Unfortunately “thinking” alone does not make disease or death disappear. My thoughts can only be a reflection of what I have learned in academe and what I have experienced in my life, and I still struggle between these two parallels.

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