5 Things I Worried About | Non-Violent Protest Training |
Friends,
I'm "done" traveling for awhile. You know, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas when I'll be in Vermont. Going home doesn't really feel like travel.
In the meantime, my eight year old neighbor is coming over to play Splendor, a strategy game with me. He can win if I give him three plays before I take my first move. I feel like that tells me something about the world, but I'm not sure what.
-Liz
What Are We Afraid Of? #2
There is so much that we are afraid of. Real risks for real people. And we often let that fear keep us from right-action.
Churches are often afraid that action will mean that some of the people coming now will leave in objection to our action. We are so small we can't do anything that will disturb any member, we can't stir the pot. We can't make a change that someone might reject. (Even though some might be attractive to newcomers.)
All churches, but especially small churches, are afraid of dying. Closing. Ending a ministry or ending all their ministry. We are kept from right action out of fear that we won't survive it.
Church members, and honestly, people of all sorts, are afraid of what their neighbors will think. People are afraid that they will be asked to explain their action and they won't be able to. It's fine to act on a gut knowledge that the action is right, but it is hard to know how to respond to disagreement. I served a church where some in town complained when we put out our rainbow flag. They felt we "pointed the flag" at the Catholic church across the street. I hadn't a clue how to respond to that--we hung the flag on our sign, so it does indeed aim somewhat in the direction of our (mostly affirming) neighbor church.
Individually we are afraid of violence at a march, or that the quality of our letter or email to an elected official will fall on deaf ears. Many of us are afraid that we just don't have the time. I'm afraid that if I spend time at the weekly protest at the ICE detention center I won't be able to get my work done. I'm also afraid that if I don't protest ICE more and more people will be physically hurt. I'm also afraid it doesn't matter whether I protest or not.
I'm afraid of the cost of resistance. The cost for time off from work, for travel, for bail money. But also the cost of time. I was arrested at a protest for the Poor People's Campaign. I paid $50 (cash only) just to get out of jail. Then lost a full days work for the court hearing. And that is a case where all charges were dropped. And what will people think? My brother-in-law called to congratulate me that I was in the paper, but others asked me what I was protesting for, what had I accomplished, demanding that I explain myself.
I'm also afraid that what I have in me is too little, too late, too insignificant to make a dent. And there is the constant reporting that makes it seem like maybe these are not outrageous times, that maybe the chaos around us is all for longterm gain. I don't believe that, but I've certainly been wrong before.
At a protest I'm afraid of violence. Of chaos. Of just being overwhelmed by the noise. Of being cold. Of my phone battery running out. These fears are directly related to the false story we are told about protests; the myth that Rosa Parks was just tired and sat down. It is important to know that the civil rights movement started long before the sixties when white people started to notice. There was extensive education, organizing, and planning taking place. They decided who should sit down, and when, and how that should be publicized.
When I was arrested I'd been to three trainings in advance. At those trainings we discussed the best actions, we practiced remaining calm, we learned songs. And we decided who were the logical people to be available for arrest. Before the sit-ins at the segregated lunch counters, young, very properly dressed black men practiced having people yell at them, swear at them, hit them, and poor coffee on them. For the Poor People's Campaign we decided to make consensus decisions--if any one person decided we should go home before the arrest, we would all go home.
At any protest you can avoid arrest by arriving early and leaving early. By moving away from anyone who is acting out. By taking part during the day, not at dusk or into the night. By having plans for how to get back to your transportation, how to find each other, by choosing to leave as soon as the going gets tough.
Our physical fears of violence are best calmed with an action plan. Our more emotional fears require something else. We fight the fear of what our neighbors think by naming it, and by naming our reasons for acting. We can have practice conversations and written questions and answers so we can be clear about our viewpoints.
As a church we need to adopt a story of courageous faith in the face of fear. Our Christian faith starts with a man choosing to be killed rather than opting to respond with violence or hate. I imagine Jesus could have preached for years, and died an old man, if he'd just kept healing and feeding the rural lands around the cities. Instead he chose to head to Jerusalem, knowing the risk was death.
As Christians we believe there is life beyond death. That our lives are made fuller when we take risks. That our faith is about figuring out the next right thing and taking action to make it so. It is not that we will not be afraid. It is that we believe that the risk of death (by force or by embarrassment) is worth it when the results are the abundance of the Kingdom.
What courageous action is your taking? Reply to this email to let me know.
Christians for Social Action offers five things to worry about at a protests--and advice for addressing those worries.
The Center for Non-Violence offers training for Marshalls, for Allies, for those engaging in non-violent direct action, and for ordinary people attending a protest.
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