A Note to Angry Preachers

To the guy in front of Cooper Hall, disturbing the peace after class.

Eyes and ears seize you

Branding my baby Earth with your gospel of hate.

God sends rain

But you,

Self-elected emissary of some Satan in the sky,

You cremate

The dead bodies of love, of mercy

They languish on the ground as I pass


Yes, goodbye!

By the sickening slick of your own poison

You will die.

Whom shall you convince?

Scorching heat of your stunted spirit

To think that I would dream of coming near it.

Festering sores


Hey, mister

Oh-so-sinister so untrue

Every day, with

Every Damn Thing I Say,

I triumph over you.

I will be the anti-hate

Breathe life into the love

You suffocate.

I am the rain, and you are a liar.

Watch me vanquish fire.


Finding Authenticity in an Ersatz Reality

A friend recently sent me an article about our culture’s obsession with authenticity. My first thought was that the Western world doesn’t actually strike me as that authentic: we live pretty leisurely lives and we tend to justify what we like without figuring out what is actually real or pure in a world where what we think about something matters more than the thing itself.

Campbell's Soup Cans by Andy Warhol, 1962. Dis...

As I kept reading, I found a key idea buried about halfway down the article: that “we can no longer perceive what we claim to value.” Authenticity could be staring us in the face, but if we recognize it at all we are left with only a vague idea that we’re missing something we desperately wanted and needed. We understand, unconsciously, in some dark part of our souls, that we can’t be certain of our own individual or collective authenticity of being or purpose.

It’s not a question of art. It’s a question of who we are.

In other words, this new wave of criticism and desperate searching for authenticity reflected in art and entertainment culture is symptomatic of and merely a modern manifestation of the gap between what we know and the fact of our existing, a gap which necessitates an infinite gulf of knowledge and meaning we kind of know we can never swim through.

I think art and life are the same things, really, just that art is a single moment stolen out of life and time. I also think that life imitates art far more than art imitates life. Not in the sense of a conventional chicken and egg dilemma, of which comes first, but in the sense that life is never understood by multiple people to be exactly the same thing. It’s beautiful to some, stupid to others, gratifying to many, and how you live it is often a matter of taste and privilege.

In reference to this article, life and art are intertwined throughout the pages of human history. Moving through the realism and purity of renaissance art, through the impressionism of the 1700s and 1800s, into the surrealism and now “modern art” which is more often than not a conglomeration of abstract shapes and lines, art reflects the tide of human belief as a whole.

Abstract and modern art is consistent with the postmodern and existential schools of thought currently dominating the Western world. They say we know only what we know, empirically, or what we can prove by watching the process from beginning to end and then repeating it exactly.

Something that looks like nothing is just as authentic and valuable today as something that depicts reality exactly…as long as it was supposed to look like nothing, and in its nothingness makes us think of something. Because atheism, humanism, existentialism, etc., any acceptance of a sort of infinite nothing beyond what may have temporal value, leaves us without any sort of ultimate standard by which to judge authenticity: in our selves, our lives, our art, or our coffee shops. Without a standard by which to judge authenticity, how can we possibly discover a true identity? How can we know who we are? That’s why we criticize what we deem inauthentic, what we fear might be cheap mockery. The idea that life might imitate this inauthentic art is far too terrifying to behold.

We are hungry for authenticity. It is at heart a hunger for meaning, for there to be something beyond the sum total of human struggle and triumph.

Check out the original article here:

Citizen Sanctuary

The Sanctuary Movement was a religious and political campaign that began in the early 1980s to provide safe-haven for Central American refugees fleeing civil conflict. It responded to restrictive federal immigration policies that made obtaining asylum difficult for Central Americans.

Between 1980 and 1991, nearly 1 million Central Americans fled to the U.S. In El Salvador, the military killed over 10,000 people. In Guatemala, government-backed paramilitary groups killed 50,000, disappeared 100,000 and perpetrated 626 village massacres.

Congress forbid foreign aid to countries committing human rights abuses, and it is well documented that the U.S. provided funds, training and arms to the Salvadoran and Guatemalan governments throughout the 1970s and 1980s.

 Because admitting these governments’ abuses would bar the U.S. from providing further aid, the Reagan administration instead argued that Central Americans were “economic migrants” fleeing poverty, not governmental repression.

Sanctuary formed as a reaction to these policies. In 1980, Jim Corbett, Jim Dudley, John Fife and a handful of other residents of Tucson, Arizona began providing legal, financial and material aid to Central American refugees.

Their decision to do so—and therefore openly oppose federal law—was inspired by a mixture of shocking refugee stories, personal encounter, political sympathies and religious conviction.

Movement members likened Sanctuary to the “Underground Railroad” of the 19th century: Refugees coming through Tucson would make it to Nogales (the nearest border town in Mexico) and find refuge at El Sanctuario de Nuestra Señora Guadalupe (Sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadalupe) Catholic Church. With help from the head priest at Our Lady, they would travel across the border to the Sacred Heart Catholic Church, whose steeple was visible from Mexico. There they could find shelter, food, legal advice and perhaps a little money. The two churches kept in constant contact, and priests and lay people traveled frequently between parishes.

36% of Sanctuary congregations were Catholic, 22% were Presbyterian, 36% were Quakers, 28% were Unitarian, 2% Jewish, 10% came from university campuses and 1% from seminaries.

Secular groups also embraced the Sanctuary Movement, such as Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, legal aid groups, liberal members of Congress and student organizations. Sanctuary supports wrote articles for The New York Times, The Washington Post and Time Magazine. The entire city of Berkeley, California declared itself a sanctuary.

Writer Barbara Kingsolver popularized the movement in her 1998 novel The Bean Trees, in which she provides a fictional account of a Sanctuary member housing refugees in her Tucson home.

Many of the Sanctuary supports were prosecuted or thrown in jail.  Our government, in maintaining economic ties with oppressive regimes, oppressed its own people.

This is a story that needs to be told.


QUESTION authority figures

KNOW your country’s history

EXPLORE news from unbiased sources

WITHHOLD judgment

Remembering Rwanda

In 1994, you and I were around two or three years old.  We liked Barney and bubble baths.  We’d hang out, play all day, and then hit the sack.  If we woke up in the middle of the night, it was simply because nature was calling very loudly, or because we had bad dreams.  For you and I, they were only dreams.  The terror, the cold sweat, the fear that twisted like a knife in our stomachs—we could banish all that by opening our eyes, and making for the safety of mom or dad.   

Now imagine, for a second, that mom and dad aren’t there when you go looking.  You run back out of their room and stumble over something on the floor—the bodies of your parents.  This is not a bad dream.  This is real.

You look up, and meet the most hateful eyes you have ever seen.  You are two years old.  There’s not a lot you understand about hate.  The man lifts his machete, and the world goes black.  In 1994, in a tiny central-African country called Rwanda, the world went black for hundreds of thousands of innocent people.  Today, we’re going to look at the causes of the conflict, as well as the devastation that resulted due to the world’s lack of interest.

The Rwandan government, comprised of the majority Hutu tribe, began sanctioning the systematic slaughter of Tutsi citizens-basically murdering everyone who wasn’t Hutu.  In response, Tutsi rebels amassed a civilian army in northern Rwanda to resist the extremist Hutu government. Not weeks before this genocide began, the two tribes had adopted a peace agreement.  In a severely inadequate attempt at enforcing the agreement, the United Nations, or U.N., sent a small, unarmed force of Western soldiers to keep tabs on the country.  But then, over a period of 100 days, between 500,000 and 1 million Tutsi men, women, and children were brutally and systematically murdered at the hands of their Hutu countrymen.

After Hitler’s Holocaust, the world swore that nothing like this would ever happen again.  But fifty short years later, when Rwanda’s extremist government sanctioned slaughter in the name of ethnic cleansing, the leaders of the Western world stood by and did nothing.  The United Nations, or U.N., of which the United States of America is an active member, has a responsibility to intervene in genocidal situations.  This stipulation is in their official charter.  So how did the United Nations manage to avoid getting involved?  According to Kofi Annan, head of Peacekeeping Operations in 1994, the U.N. lacked “a culture of speaking out.”  Nobody put forth an argument for “humanitarian intervention” based on the simple fact that we all belong to the human race.  Rather, responsibility got lost as the U.N. attempted to redraw the definition of “genocide” to exclude the massacre going on in Rwanda.

So while thousands of innocent lives were decimated every day, we dealt only with silence, and an up-in-the-air controversy surrounding definition of terms.   The predominant reason, however, that the United States of America chose to overlook Rwanda, is even simpler.  Strictly speaking, Rwanda had nothing to offer us.  As then-President Clinton said to the United Nations head, “Rwanda is a marginal problem. We are not interested in this problem.”   It had no oil, no money, and no influence.   How many barrels of oil does it take to make a human life worth saving?

Not everyone turned tail and ran, however.  Led by Paul Kagame, the Tutsi rebel force, known as the Rwandan Patriotic Front, took down the Hutu government and stopped the slaughter.  Paul Kagame is now the President of the country.  Additionally, upward of 65000 lives were saved by the Red Cross, which stood its ground and bargained out safe passage of Red Cross patients throughout Rwanda.  Philippe Gaillard, the Frenchman in charge of the Rwandan Red Cross, asked a simple question: “What do you do in the face of evil?”  In the wake of the Rwandan genocide, people answered that question very differently.  Some, like Gaillard and Kagame, faced the evil right back down.  Others, in weighing the personal advantages of interference, deemed it justifiable to avoid the confrontation.  As a result, around 800,000 Rwandans lost their lives.

The United Nations and the United States have since issued formal apologies.  Many world politicians even trekked to Rwanda after the disaster to view the consequences of their inaction.  Their remorse was a step in the right direction.  But it was only a single step, and it came too late.

In the famous words of Irish philosopher Edmund Burke, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”  Evil triumphed in Rwanda for 100 days in 1994.  Hopefully, next time, evil will actually meet with some resistance.


RESEARCH what the government is doing today

TALK to your friends and family about what you find

ORGANIZE around the causes most important to you

TAKE ACTION to make tomorrow better.