The Gun Thing, The Race Thing, And The Broken World Thing {3 Thoughts On Trayvon and Zimmerman}

We expected the court to sort this out?

Yeah, I most definitely believe in the court, but riding so much on a verdict has me thinking we might've believed too much in the court this time.

Because the court can sort out charges and evidence and jail time.

But it can't sort out years of racial tensions and pain deeper than one teenager dead.

The pain here runs deep - deep into blood-soaked, hard-worked soil and unforgiving, bitter hearts. 

And the court deals with law. And let's agree on one thing - there's no laws when it comes to pain this deep.

We can say all we want about the verdict given to George Zimmerman.

But really, this is messier than anything guilty or not guilty can clean up.

And with that said, my twitter stayed silent on Saturday night.

Not because I didn't care, but because I wasn't sure how a series of 140 character statements could sort out the mess any more than that Florida court could, nor did I trust myself to say anything worthwhile.

But you know me, I can't stay silent.

This blog post isn't going to sort anything out either. This is just a teenage girl picking out bits from the messiness and trying to at least come up with something.

Here it goes.

The Gun Thing

If George #Zimmerman had not had a gun, he'd have never got out of his car that night, and Trayvon Martin would still be alive.
— Piers Morgan (@piersmorgan) July 14, 2013

And it's as simple as that.

There might've been a fist fight. And the whole thing would've ended in a night at a hospital (at worst), not in a court, a morgue and international news.

Everyone's speaking out about race (and yes, definitely - more on that in a sec), but what about the gun thing?

Here's the thing - 6,198 gun deaths have occurred in America since Sandy Hook. In just 7 short months. [That link is a must see - it very clearly paints the grim picture.]

I feel like society should be more disturbed by this. 

The fact of the matter is, it was legal for Zimmerman to have that gun, and from the picture presented to the court, it was legal for him to use it.

Don't be angry that Zimmerman got acquitted for shooting and killing Trayvon, be angry that the law allowed it.

Perhaps the jury thought the same as me and you - it shouldn't be ok for someone to kill another someone. But the laws don't agree and that's what I think we're all really angry about here.

The laws of America love the right to bear arms. Don't be upset that Zimmerman got acquitted if you're also in love with the right to bear arms.

It's contradictory.

Mr. Piers Morgan tweeted some brilliance yesterday, and allow me to share a bit more of that with you as I close out this gun talk:

I don't criticise the jury - I criticise the law that enabled them to find George #Zimmerman not guilty of anything. #RIPTrayvon
— Piers Morgan (@piersmorgan) July 14, 2013

Until Americans stand up and shout 'ENOUGH!' re guns, the senseless slaughter will just go on, and on, and on. #Trayvon #Newtown #Aurora
— Piers Morgan (@piersmorgan) July 14, 2013

The Race Thing

Let me tell you a story.

I was once shooting hoops out on the driveway by myself, when our next-door neighbour stepped outside, preparing to leave in his car. We small talked for a bit then he stepped in his car and started the engine, me assuming he was going to drive off. I turned back to the basketball net, only to spot a friend of mine walking up the street with a group of his friends.

I waved, chatted with him for a bit, let him take a few shots, and then he continued his walk down the street. Only when he left did I notice my neighbour still sitting there in his running car. He'd watched the whole 2 or 3 minute exchange. "Do you know those guys?" He asked, once they were out of earshot.

"Yeah," I said, "We go to school together."

"Oh, good." He said, and drove away.

Here's what I left out of my story: race. 

My neighbour is white, living in a primarily white community. My friend and his whole group? They're all black.

Now, my neighbour is good person. A normal person. He has a toddling daughter and I appreciate him looking out for me. I know he didn't mean to racially profile my friend. But he did. It happens, in real life, to everyone. 

But what if this - what if we were all part of the Jesus-culture first, then race was just one of the many things that makes us the diverse Body of Christ?

That, to me, is the ideal. Not for everyone to be treated the same, but for everyone to be able to bring their different gifts, personalities and traits, race being one of those beautiful things, to the Body of Christ and use those things to advance his Kingdom.

And that's all great stuff, and it starts with stuff like this -

for whites to stop assuming that black people are criminals;

for blacks to stop assuming that white people are out to get them;

for every race - red, yellow, black, brown, white - to stop defending the colour of their skin, and start defending who they are in Jesus.

I'm not calling for colour blind here - I am the biggest believer in embracing your race and all the beauty that comes from that part of your identity.

I'm calling for a safe place where everyone gets to do just that - embrace the beauty of their race without feeling that they have to defend it or have it rise above another.

The We-Live-In-A-Broken-World Thing

We could say gun laws killed Trayvon Martin. We could say racism killed him.

But in the end brokenness killed him. Humans' sinful nature killed him.

We lived in a broken, screwed up world where injustice happens. Everyday.

And all Christ-followers can do is try as spread as much light into the world as possible - despite our own human nature.

We sang it at church yesterday - Your light will shine when all else fades.

But a lot of that depends on us, because we are His image-bearers on this earth.

Through us is where His light will shine through when all else fades.

And we have a choice in how we respond to all this mess. We can respond in anger, or we can respond in love. 

We can burn in anger or we can overflow with love.

Yeah, not only the Zimmerman case, but the whole wide world is filled with deep pain and a whole lot of messiness.

But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's this -

Love can cover a multitude of pain, hurts, and messiness.

A Writing Award, A Courageous Girl and Our Basic Right

Back in March, I won a provincial writing award for this piece. Total God-thing, more on that at the end.

The Moment It Went Dark

based on true events

Later, you’ll find it a little ironic and kind of symbolic that they chose your head. Not your heart or lungs, but your head - more specifically, your brain - the thing they didn’t want you to develop. 

However, right now, in this millisecond between the moment the bullet connects with your skull and the moment everything goes black, everything flashes before your eyes.

Your first day of school. The anticipation and excitement, the strict discipline and the reverent thankfulness because you know what a privilege this is. You’re nearly bursting with joy at the thought - you will be a literate woman.

Throughout the days you soak in all the knowledge, all the wisdom, that this place called school has to offer. The smell of the dusty chalkboards and the feeling of the hard wooden chairs and desks - you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The sounds of girls writing and asking questions sparks a sweet feeling in your chest. You know you must share this amazing gift with all the girls of your country. So, at a tender young age you become an advocate. You speak out against cultural boundaries and social stigmas, because girls deserve education just as much as boys.

You make progress. More girls are going to school, and you have become somewhat of an icon, although you don’t really see yourself as one. People know your name. Sometimes, you’re even stopped in the street by someone who tells you how amazing and courageous you are. You’re told that you’re a hero. Then the trouble begins.

They ban girls’ education. You’re upset, but remain optimistic. You think everything will be okay. Your school closes for awhile, but not for long. Soon you’re able to return to school, even though the ban hasn’t been lifted. They aren’t the government, so technically it isn’t illegal, but they have power, because they instill a gripping fear on the people of your county. You and the other girls who continue to go to school know the risks of your blatant disobedience.

Only ten girls continue to attend school. This saddens you. The classroom is sparse and quieter than usual. Even some of your teachers are not present. The mood is less lively and the girls are low-spirited because of the effect the ban has had on girls’ education. You all live in fear of your school being attacked by those opposed to girls’ education. You all make do, though, and you continue to learn. As long as you and others who want to can learn, you are happy, and that sweet feeling in your chest continues.

You continue to be a young advocate for girls’ education. You write (because you know how!) and you speak to groups of people when invited to. For years and years, girls have been denied education in your country, but you can see an end to that. You see hope. You feel motivated, and although there’s reason to be afraid, you’re not.

However, soon the death threats start. One day, while you’re walking home, someone calls after you, “I’ll kill you!” You’re not sure if they are talking to you or not, but terror suddenly rushes through you. You feel yourself panicking and you practically run all the way home.

Soon, you are sure they’re talking to you. The threats become stronger and more clearly directed towards you.

This won’t stop you, though. You will not back down. You continue to attend school, as do some of the other girls. You continue to stand up to them - those who say girls can not attend school. The teachers try their best to protect you and your classmates. “Do not wear a uniform, or brightly coloured clothes,” they say, “It will draw unwanted attention.” You follow their guidelines as closely as possible, but you know that because of your minor fame and very public defiance, you can do little to protect yourself while traveling to and from school.

Today started like any other day. You wake up and get dressed in a very average, non-schoolgirl-type dress. You walk through the dusty streets to the bus and ride with your friends. You get to school and learn math, writing and science. The clicks of chalk against the chalkboard and the murmurs of girls excited to learn delight you. You love it. Like you do everyday, you wish every girl got this opportunity. You get on the bus to go home. You ride with your friends. You step out off the bus, and hear the gunshot. You gasp, and everything goes black.

On October 9th, 2012, Malala Yousafzai, a young Pakistani schoolgirl and an outspoken advocate for girls’ education was shot in the head by the Taliban because of her advocacy. Against all odds, she survived and is now recovering in hospital. Her courage is an inspiration to us all.

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My teacher introduces this writing contest two months before the deadline. I pick up the form and it collects dust for two months. 

The day I think it's due, I run up to her and ask if there's still time. She says it was supposed to be due yesterday, but she can give me two more days, give it to her on Friday. 

Thursday night I sit and stare at a blank New Document for two hours. And then I just write. 

Somehow, all that up there came out. 

God's cool like that.

And then, they made a video about it, and I got to share a little bit about my passion for giving a voice to the voiceless and about Him who gives me strength. It was such a God-thing: 

My segment starts around the 8:35 mark.

RSS readers/email subscribers: Here's the link to the video. :)

The most common question I got: Why Malala?

Because - she is so courageous. Because from the moment I heard about her I was so inspired by this girl almost exactly the same age as me - and just as passionate about giving a voice to the voiceless.

I consider myself an advocate, yet I ask myself, would I be so brave? How easily could I have been Malala, born into the world of an illiterate woman, and would I really have stood like she does?

Malala Yousafzai inspired me, and I so wanted to share her story through my words, somehow stand with her in this small way.

And why am I sharing this now, you ask? Three months after the award was presented to me?

Because - this Friday is Malala's 16th birthday, deemed #MalalaDay. To mark the day, Malala will make a public address at the United Nations in New York, demanding action in the fight for universal education and proving that the bullet to her head will not silence her. Read more here.

via @_girlwithabook

That man who stepped on the bus and shot Malala last October - he failed. Because she will continue her fight for education for all. Malala will not stay silent - she will continue to stand up for every child who will not attend school today, tomorrow, possibly ever.

We can stand with her. You can sign this petition to add your voice to the growing group who will stand with Malala on Friday, demanding education for every child.

It is one of our Millennium Development Goals - achieve universal primary education.

via @WeCanEndPoverty

It's not too late. Malala's voice is stronger than ever, and ours can be too.

Education shouldn't be a privilege - because it is a right. Let's treat it like one.

I think of it often and imagine the scene clearly. Even if they come to kill me, I will tell them that what they are trying to do is wrong, that education is our basic right. 

- Malala Yousafzai 

The Light

This was my Media Arts ISU this year. We were supposed to write an 8 line poem and then create an image to go with each line - this is what I came up with. :)

Media: Photography. Borrowed photos are credited in the caption, otherwise I took them myself. All editing was done on www.picmonkey.com.

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photo credits: Alexander Olsson Photography

photo credits: Keely Marie Scott Photography

photo credits: My Mom

"For you were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light." Ephesians 5:8

Damaged

I don't think I'll ever be able to start summer without thinking of the Philippines.

Without flipping through photos and clicking back to "July 2011" on my blog and Facebook timeline.

Without remembering the girl who stepped on a plane two summers ago with big expectations and the girl who stepped off three weeks later - changed for life. 

Broken.

Gradually, I'm understanding a little more of what it means to be broken.

I think damaged might be another word to describe it.

Damaged to the first world, no longer able to function properly as a first world citizen is supposed to.

Because I'm no longer able to enjoy a Tall Vanilla Bean Frappuccino without feeling guilty - and it has nothing to do with my weight or health.

Because while my friends soak in one of the most expensive streets in the city, I feel sick at jokes about gold-plated toilets, I pass on the Starbucks and buy a homeless lady an afternoon snack instead.

Because while teachers and classmates tell me my grades say I should be a doctor or lawyer for the six figures, I want to be a lawyer or social worker to help the least of these - who most likely won't be paying six figures.

Because I pass on Secret Santa, don't use the word starving, and I can't turn the advocate in me off - I'm forever talking to my friends about poverty and human trafficking.

I see it in my family too - my parents choose carpet over hardwood when hardwood is definitely the way to go nowadays. My brother forgoes buying another cube - while the normal first world boy wouldn't think twice about putting down the fifteen dollars for the puzzle, even his second or third or tenth one.

Yet I still have a long way to go. 

Because while I can't enjoy the Frapp without guilt - I still enjoy it.

While I felt uncomfortable on the most expensive street in the city - I was still on it.

While I don't want a six figure job, some days I reason that God gave me the gift of ninety-something grades for a reason, and if I earned six figures I'd give it all away (from the comfort of my home which matches my job, of course).

While I weave social justice into my conversations, more often I'm talking about crazy teachers, funny YouTube videos, summer plans, TV shows, and the latest on social media.

And some days, I'd rather be the girl who doesn't know about the other side.

I'd be excused, then. If I don't know, how could you expect me to care? If I have no clue about the poverty on the other side of this palace gate, how could you expect me to know to open the gate?

Yet I do know. And I want to know. I'm blessed to know.

Because broken is the most blessed you can be.

But while I strive to travel back to the places where I found this beautiful brokenness, sometimes I strive for comfort more.

Yet I read Ann Voskamp's words and she transports me to Uganda, Africa and here I am reading about a girl who eats bugs. And I cried. And right there I wanted to fly to Africa and feed her and every other child who is eating bugs.

Two hours later I'm chopping strawberries for the freezer. I picked the next piece of fruit from the basket, turned it over and discovered a spider.

And yes, I freaked out.

I screamed to informed my mom, ran for a paper towel, squished it - all the while freaking out.

Then I sat down to continue my work and all I could think was Ann's sponsored child eats bugs. Ann's sponsored child eats bugs. Ann's sponsored child eats bugs.

And I couldn't deal with it. I cried reading about a girl who ate bugs, and two hours later I freaked out over a small spider on a strawberry.

What?

And then there's Katie. The girl who quit university to welcome orphans into her arms.

Where's the balance between that and "being responsible and thinking of your future"? Yet aren't Christ-followers called to not worry about tomorrow? 

And what about seven years of university to be a lawyer who frees captives, releases prisoners from darkness, and rebuilds ancient ruins for the display of His splendour? But couldn't the cost of law school feed a whole lot of bug-eating Ugandan children?

I don't have answers. But I know a few things.

Broken is the most blessed you could be.

And chasing Jesus is always the way to go.

And if he runs to Africa, I suppose I chase him there. If he runs to law school, I'm gonna have to chase him there.

Just like how my family and I chased him to the Philippines two years ago... look where that brought us.

Damaged... and so thankful.

Love is complicated and the simplest thing in the world. And that is all there is. 

-Ann Voskamp