#Time4Marriage?

The US Supreme Court has not yet ruled, but it is clear from anecdotal conversations and news reports as well as from scientific polls that a majority of Americans support equal marriage rights for same-sex couples.

Not having marriage equality brings real harms. One of them — and I know folks who have experienced this — is related to immigration. Gay and lesbian binational couples have had to fight deportation, separation, and exile caused by the "Defense of Marriage Act" and US Immigration law. And that's just one reason marriage matters. There are a slew of other real world problems that come from not having relationship recognition, economic hardships that different-sex couples need never face.

Beyond this equality and equity issue lies something more basic. 

Marriage equality brings with it something ineffable. Marriage is magic. A Muslim woman friend of mine got married recently in Washington, DC, where it's legal, and had been a critic of the institution. She shared with me that after being wed, she had a realization: something really is different about marriage. She can still articulate and agree with critiques of the institution, but deeply appreciates being married. Perhaps not unlike Feminist Hulk would.

I come to these questions as a lawyer and policy wonk, and also as an American whose commitment to justice, equality, and equity is rooted in my Muslim faith. It was with great pleasure I read Omid Safi's endorsement of marriage equality. Safi, a Muslim American intellectual and spiritual leader, sums up the position of most Muslim Americans I know:

We don't want a two-tiered model of justice. We don't want a two-tiered model of citizenship. A two-tiered justice is not justice, and a two-tiered citizenship is not real citizenship.

He's right. Islam cares about Justice. And Muslims value full and equal citizenship.

I understand some people are truly and honestly conflicted, even morally concerned. Good people, to quote Sen. Claire McCaskill, are troubled by the idea of what same-sex couples do together, let alone them having equal rights. Some of these folks are Muslims.

Everyone has the right to their opinions and values. These rights are trumped by the reality of individuals and children for whom relationship recognition brings with it over 1,000 rights and benefits that flow from marriage. Plus, in a secular democracy in which no religious group or splinter movement within a religious tradition gets to legislate its theology on the rest of us, marriage equality is the logical conclusion.

For those who argue the theoretical point that governments shouldn't be in the business of sanctioning unions in the first place, I say, the fact is governments do sanction them. It's too easy to bandy theory when you have rights and it's not you being denied full participation in a civil institution.

As long as a whole class of citizens does not have access to the rights and benefits (or responsibilities) that are bundled up with marriage, they are denied the equal protection of the laws. 

However the Court may rule, this, to me, is the moral argument in support of marriage equality.

I am deeply grateful to all who have struggled for justice and equality, allies who changed their profile picture on Facebook or donated money and time to advocacy groups, all the folks who marched and demonstrated, wrote letters, spoke to their neighbors, colleagues, and family. I am grateful to all the tireless activists and staff working on these campaigns and issues. So many of you will remain nameless. I may not know you, but I thank you.

And yet, my joy at this apparent progress does not come without sadness. 

The LGBTQ Movement for equality and inclusion must think about what happens next. Equality will have to be defended; there will be a backlash. But even more important, is the thinking about what happens beyond marriage.

Justice means little without equity. Any Muslim can tell you that. While for many, marriage equality is the path to accessing social security survivorship benefits or not paying taxes on property transfers after the death of a life partner, equity means making access to that kind of security possible for all, regardless of marital status.

And if you thought marriage was everything, then you might be wearing blinders. While the media was focused on the amazing possibility of marriage equality, this happened. 

A movement for equality and liberation must think more broadly than simply having rights. Still, I don't see this as a reason for despair or to give up. It just means the struggle continues. As a Muslim, this makes sense to me: #MyJihad (my struggle) is to keep working for justice & equality, equity & access, dignity & inclusion, and security & freedom for all. 

I hope you'll join me.

Love, Light, & Peace,
K

PS In all this brouhaha, I can't help but wonder, is Pamela Geller's head spinning, seeing so many Muslims not sounding like Fred Phelps and Pat Robertson? KF

Additional Links

Muslims for Progressive Values Support Marriage Equality and an End to DOMA

What Would Dr. King Say about Gay Rights?

Sen. Claire McCaskill Announces Support for same-sex marriage

Bay Area LGBTQ Community Not Fooled by Geller's Islamophobia
The "Skim Milk" inside Edith Windsors' Marriage
The Jewish Women in the DOMA Case
"Conservative" and "Reform" Jewish Movements Fight DOMA
A Baptist Case for the Freedom to Marry
The Episcopal Church and Marriage Equality
Red Facebook Meme, “This Christian Supports Marriage Equality” Goes Viral

ENOUGH!

ENOUGH!

Enought what?

Enough with men talking about women and calling them prostitutes, attacking their honor and dignity, thinking that as men they have a right to regulate what women wear or how women should behave, and that they should comment on all of it whenever they want.

The article above on a Moroccan Facebook group posting pictures of women (and the commentaries that followed) triggered my memories of growing up in Casablanca, surrounded by men much too comfortable uttering such sexist and insensitive remarks.

The sense of entitlement many men have to comment on women's bodies and appearance astounds me. And I remember my sister's pain and that of other women I care about in response to this backbiting and constant, negative evaluation, not to mention the harassment.

To the brothers, fathers, sons out there: Live your own life. Live your own life as morally as you can. Be an example to others, if you think you can be. But enough with these attacks and insults, this policing of others' gender expression and sexuality. How is it your business? (How is it anyone's business, whatever their gender?)

Another article I read sums up my attitudes on this:

Alleviating human suffering and bringing hope to the lost is [everyone's responsibility]. Loving people — loving them with every ounce of strength you’ve got, alleviating their suffering rather than exacerbating it, treating them with empathy and dignity and sensitivity and charity — is your obligation as members of the human race, a vocation you have no right to reject. When you’re an asshole, the echoes of your assholishness — and the lives destroyed in its wake — may be farther-reaching than you could ever imagine.

Real men don’t feel the need to put others down to advance their own self-interest. 

Real men don’t hurt others, even in good fun. 

Real men don’t mistake caddishness for humor. 

Real men appreciate real beauty that proceeds from the heart, demanding nothing more and settling for nothing less.

Real men take seriously their call to protect, preserve, and defend women. 

Real men think before they speak.

It's time for more men to think before they speak, not to put others down to feel better about themselves, and not to hurt others (even in fun). It's time for all human beings to do this.

I promise to do this in my own life.

Will you make a promise too?


See Also:
Bell Bajao: End Domestic Violence Against Women
Stop Objectification: Turn Objectification into Empowerment
Ni putes ni soumises (Neither Whores Nor Submissive)
Global Rights: Maghreb Region

Post Retreat Musings, Part 1

One day last week, I sat down and wrote out some thoughts about 2012 Retreat for LGBT Muslims and Partners ("the Retreat"). I wanted to write something about what I learned at the Retreat, what was meaningful to me. I wanted to share it with my fellow attendees, and also with all of my friends and family and other supporters who gave generously to fund scholarships and help us cover other costs, and those who are simply curious (I got a lot of questions). What follows is part one of my musings. 

***

I keep learning the power of just being. Just gathering. Connecting. 

Where two or more of us gather, Spirit is there. Maybe even where just one of us is, if we can quiet our mind's chatter, we can feel It. Sometimes. 

If I am open and discerning and see the signs, I hear It in what one of my brothers or sisters says to me. Or I see It as I gaze in wonder upon my surroundings. Something as simple as the trees can reveal, when I am open, the awesomeness of Creation that I all too often simply take for granted (like the air I breathe).

And why should I not see it all around me? Spirit, the Divinity, is everywhere. 

It is the Light that reveals Creation, and It is Creation. It is the Creator and the Created. It is All That Is. It is the Infinite, a never-ending Mystery.

I truly believe each of us has access to It and Its guidance, as well as to the serenity and peace promised us when we discern Its will for us and our best to follow it.

The process of seeking knowledge of the Divinity's will for us is a deeply personal one, something no one else can do for us. We must go within, to connect to where Spirit resides in us all. 

This does not mean that we must be alone when we do this. In fact, gathering is part of how we understand our personal mission even better. Sharing with others our personal process (and allowing them to have theirs) is part of moving further along this path of seeking.

And that, for me, is what was spiritual about the 2012 Retreat for LGBT Muslims and Partners. The Gathering. The Connecting. The Being. The Love. The Light. The Peace.

I thank you all who attended and were a part of it, a part of opening my eyes, each of you in your own way, to the Beauty that is Creation, and all the lessons and messages that the Creator would have me heed.

May the Spirit bless you all with joy, love, and ease as you walk through your life. Know that you are never alone. None of us is.

Love, Light, & Peace,

Kamal

2012 Retreat for LGBT Muslims and Partners

Dear friends,

I’m writing to ask you to help me in reaching my personal goal of raising $1000 for the second annual Retreat for LGBT Muslims and Partners, to be held this year outside Philadelphia, over Memorial Day weekend. This Retreat aims to bring together LGBT Muslims, to build community, and to help us reconnect to our faith and ourselves.

I attended the Retreat last year, the first of its kind, and am honored and humbled to do service on this year’s planning committee. Last year’s Retreat was incredibly moving, delightfully energizing, and spiritually nourishing. It was a life-changing blessing to participate in the Retreat and be a part of building a progressive community with LGBT Muslims and their partners. It was healing in ways I could not foresee.

I will never forget the moment I heard a woman’s voice raised in the call to prayer (the adhaan). Muslims signal the beginning of joint services (jum`ah) with a human voice. The first person ever to do this was a freed African slave, Bilal ibn Rabah, in the newly established Muslim community in Madina, at the invitation of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). This happened in Year One for Muslims—our history begins after our ancestors fled persecution in Mecca. Non-Muslims may be familiar with the Hajj, the annual Muslim ritual pilgrimage to Mecca and Madina, in which we celebrate this event.

Having a woman call our gathering to prayer, opening our jumu`ah, was not simply a symbolic act of inclusion. There was deep meaning to it.

It was radical, getting to the “root of the matter.”

I have shivers when I talk about it and remember it.

Why am I, a man— and a pretty secular cultural Muslim at that—so deeply moved by such a simple thing, and a thing that does not directly (at first glance) affect my gender?

The only thing I can say is that this call to prayer healed a rift in my soul, healing a rift in Spirit, I had not realized was there. It was a spiritual awakening of a sort, and I am grateful for both the awakening and experience.

If you know me, you know I am committed to equality and equity. These are fundamental Islamic values, certainly as I was taught them, apparent in the teachings of Islam and its early history. I have shared how the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) invited Bilal to initiate the first prayer gathering in the emancipated Muslim community. That too was a deeply meaningful and spiritually significant act, not just a symbolic token of inclusion.

Today, I am sad to say that the Muslim community does not stand, to the world outside of it certainly, and maybe even to some within it, as a byword for justice, equity, equality, diversity, and anti-oppression. Centuries of influence by closed-minded social traditions on Islamic values and practices have turned us from the path that we began with that first radical call to prayer.

The Retreat for LGBT Muslims and Partners continues the Islamic tradition of righteous justice: it is a space of inclusion, healing and in our own way, incrementally righting wrongs done in the name of our Muslim culture. Maybe we are reconnecting to the authentic roots of the faith. Maybe we are amending it to correct for ways we have gone off the path.

What is there to correct? I look around at the Muslim world and I see a civilization wracked by spasms of violence and hate, with criminals and extremists from one sect killing members of other sects or killing the non-Muslims among them. And granted, it is a minority that is criminal in this way, but we are all suffering for it and from it, and we need more voices and more examples of what it looks like to do things a different way. I also see subordination and exclusion of women, and oppression and violence of sexual and gender minorities like LGBTQ folk.

Within mainstream and conservative Muslim communities in the West, we face these problems and conflicts as well. A minority is hateful and dangerous, and the majority does not always know what to do or say about it. Often, it is too busy defending against the Islamophobia in the larger society, which we as LGBT Muslims sometimes face even from our LGBT non-Muslim communities.

At the Retreat, we are open and inclusive of all partners, whether they are Muslim or not, believe in a divinity or not. We are open and inclusive of all sects—if you say you are Muslim, we believe you.  In this we are part of a global progressive Muslim movement, one which also is committed to ending the exclusion and subordination of women within our faith communities, and challenges those who would oppress and marginalize LGBT people.

My soul experience at last year’s Retreat revealed to me that excluding women from spiritual spaces and leadership has deeply damaged all of us, not just women. This is not just a diversity issue or an intellectual issue of equality. It is an issue of spirituality and spiritual healing. And it is a truth that resonates within my core.

The Retreat is part of healing that injury, with women calling to prayer, women leading prayer, and people of all genders praying side by side and not in gender-segregated spaces.

Hopefully the Retreat heals other injuries as well, and provides a space to do much more. It is a place of exploration and reconnection—people who felt they would never pray again find a safe space to discuss this and may join in worship. Those of us raised secularly can attend the Islamic Prayer 101 workshop and learn how to pray or brush up on the rituals, even learning about the diversity of rituals between sects. Members of sects that outside that space might fear each other are not afraid to have an open discussion about their differences and their histories.

At the same time, the Retreat is a safe space for atheist, agnostic, or secular Muslims who simply want to be there among others with whom they have a cultural commonality and with whom they share a political solidarity in an era of increasing Islamophobia. And it is definitely a place of community-building and fun.

We have an incredible diversity. We are secular, atheist, and devout and practicing Muslims. We are Sunni and Shia and all sorts within those two branches. Some are Sufi, others not. And of course, we include the partners (who may or may not be Muslim). We are young(er) and old(er), we are many genders, we are of many ethnicities and races.

I hope you will join me in supporting the scholarships that we offer to 14 youth (18-25) and 5 not-so-youth (26 & over) to attend. We also would appreciate donations for our general operating costs.

Can you help out with a donation today?* Can you give $50? $25? $10? Any amount you can give will help and all helps us reach our goal!

Thank you.

Love, Light, & Peace,

Kamal

*All donations are tax-deductible to the fullest extent permissible by law in the USA, as our fiscal sponsor, Muslims for Progressive Values, is a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization.

Be the Change

Be the Change: We All Have Power, We All Have Choices

Have you seen this story from Bangladesh yet? 

A man who works as a rickshaw (pedicab) driver, saved half of his $6/day earnings over the course of 30 years and, with his savings, built a clinic in his home village, which was far from any medical treatment. 

This man is inspiring: he turned his anger at his community's exclusion—& the death of his father due to inadequate access to healthcare—into motivation to do something good. He was determined, and he was frugal. And he saved half that $6/day he made, and built that clinic.

While this story could serve to reinforce our notion of the persisting poverty and inequities that exist around the world, I look at it and see another lesson as well.

We all have power, and we all have choices. 

There is no doubt that economic and other constraints facing this man and many other people around the world like him are very real. 

But he shows us even in the face of such challenges, we have power, and we have choices.

He also shows us that when we act, we may inspire others. 

After news of his clinic spread, it received anonymous donations from all over, and now women and poor people in an area of the country that did not have medical care, do. 

He is a testament to patience, persistence, positive-thinking, taking responsibility to change things we don't like, frugality, charity, and commitment to justice and equity. 

Vision in action. Values in action.

My first thought was "What an amazing example of Muslim values," because I saw in him so much of what I was raised to believe Islam is about (see the list above), and because it was so refreshing to get away from the Islamophobes and what they would define Islamic values as (or the radical Islamists, for that matter, who truly to me seem to be the flip side of the Islamophobes—each with their terrorizing and restrictive understanding of Islam.). 

But I know these values are universal—we can find them in other faiths and among non-theist people too.

Connect to your vision. Connect to your values. Now put them into action. 

Be the change.

Love, Light, & Peace,

Kamal

This blog is dedicated to my mother and father, who taught me the values I hold dear, and to, "Be the Change."

Related links: 

"Be the Change: Save a Life"

Be the Change, Inc.

Service Nation

Opportunity Nation

United We Serve

UNICEF

LGBT Elders: Equality and Equity Concerns

Minister for the Aging of Quebec, Marguerite Blais, has announced a Charter for the protection of elderly homosexuals. Now that the population of LGBT folk who have come out is aging and entering care centers and hospitals, there is a risk of elder abuse and homophobia against them in these settings.

This charter is something that all care institutions can sign, setting up best practices, and committing themselves to the equal treatment and recognition of the inherent dignity of all people, including LGBT's, as they age and become more vulnerable and dependent on the care of others. This is progress.

Elder abuse is an issue regardless of orientation. It is hard to believe that the elderly may become the targets of abuse, but it does occur. The abuse ranges from physical and emotional abuse to neglect, or exploitation like theft or embezzlement of funds under a trustee's care. When sexual orientation is added to the mix, societal homophobia can increase the elderly's vulnerability.

USA National trends in abuse of vulnerable adults sixty and older (from Adult Protective Services):

•     Estimates of the frequency of elder abuse range from 2 to 10% (Lachs & Pillemer, 2004). 

•     One in 14 incidents, excluding self-neglect, come to the attention of authorities (Pillemer & Finkelhor, 1998). 

•     The overall reporting of financial exploitation is only 1 in 25 cases, suggesting at least five million financial abuse victims each year (Wasik, 2000). 

•     One large survey of staff working in nursing homes found that 36% had observed physical abuse and 81% witnessed psychological abuse (Pillemer & Moore, 1989).  

 http://www.umaine.edu/mainecenteronaging/documents/issuebriefelderabuse.pdf

And of course, even aside from abuse, elders in the LGBT community face particular challenges, which vary from country to country. In the USA, these challenges include inequality in a range of public and social programs (like social security, etc.).

For more information:

•     A link to a US community-based organization that serves the needs of LGBT elders, Senior Action in a Gay Environment (SAGE);

•     a report by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force on public policy issues facing LGBT elders;

•     a link to the US Administration on Aging regarding Elder Abuse; and

•     National Center on Elder Abuse "Statistics At Glance."

Peace Now & Serenity When? Trauma & Addiction in Israel & Palestine (Part I)

A while back I posted Kieron Monks’ “East Jerusalem Suffers Heroin Plague”  (July 6, 2011) to Facebook. Monks spotlights burgeoning heroin use in East Jerusalem. Jerusalem, a town divided, is definitely not at peace. Serenity eludes it, and Monks’ article shows how within a substratum of the population of this ancient city, people are suffering in a very particular way. 

The article, on Al-Jazeera’s English-language website, started me thinking about recovery from trauma & addiction in the very specific context of Israel and Palestine: Do the guidelines that suggest how to recover from trauma and addiction even apply in Israel and Palestine? Can there be any recovery in those places? Can a program of recovery from addiction have anything to teach this center of civilizations, this cradle of monotheistic faiths? Could it possibly be a vector for peace? 

Yes, and why not?

The process of recovery from trauma and addiction requires skills and spiritual attitudes that could very well be the key to unlock solutions for Israel and Palestine—in the Divine’s Own time, of course.

Here, then, are my bold, radical proposals: 

* Israel and Palestine are like everywhere else; Israelis and Palestinians are like everyone else. 

* Recovery from trauma & addiction in Israel and Palestine is possible. 

* Neither side can get better unless the other side does too.

* The principles that aid recovery and help addicts achieve serenity are exactly the same as those that can bring peace to Israel and Palestine.

I am a human rights lawyer and diversity and inclusion consultant. In addition to this training, I have some experience with, but am no expert or spokesperson for any one group or trend in, recovery, harm reduction, self-care, or mediation and conflict resolution. From the foundation of my experiences and education, it is my opinion that recovery has much to offer here, and that recovering addicts in Israel and Palestine in particular, whom many in their individual societies might view as pariahs, may be uniquely placed to find the way forward. From the depths of their pain, a new freedom may emerge.

Can one write about trauma, drug use/misuse/addiction, harm reduction and recovery in Israel and Palestine without discussing politics, the taking or reclaiming of land, the cycles of violence and degradation, fear and vulnerability?

I believe so.

Both Palestinians and Israelis experience violence and insecurity, to different degrees and with different levels of arbitrariness. This violence and insecurity itself generates trauma, fuel for the conflagration that is the disease of addiction (or the bio-psycho-social condition or disorder of drug misuse, if you prefer).

While recognizing that social, political, and economic conditions create fertile conditions for the development of addictions, I suggest that recovery can come first, in any situation, and that recovery from addiction may provide a model or the skills and mental framework necessary to proceed with the difficult negotiations that will make a peaceful settlement between Israelis and Palestinians possible.

How so?

First bold, radical statement (in two parts): Israel and Palestine are like everywhere else; Israelis and Palestinians are like everyone else. 

There are specificities to Israel and Palestine that matter. Yes. But every location, every individual, has important specificities. Israel and Palestine is not the first war or conflict strewn territory that experiences a concomitant rise in drug use. This is a common correlation, beyond the fact that some armed struggles are financed via off-the-books trades, including the sale of drugs, as in Afghanistan or Colombia, Ireland, and Turkey, or that drugs are used to numb the pain of the violence seen or to get fighters to fight beyond human endurance, as in Liberia (a separate, interesting question, is how successful has the US policy of supporting counter-narcotic efforts been?).

Israelis and Palestinians are human beings, like all the rest of us. It is impossible to know whether the numbers are equivalent, but for every pro-Israeli person who sees all Palestinians and their supporters only as hateful and immoral killers, I have no doubt there is a pro-Palestinian person who sees all Israelis and their supporters as hateful and immoral killers. It is one way all are alike. The feelings of fear and judgment, the convictions of self-righteousness and victimhood, all of us can fall prey to these.

So, I repeat: Israelis and Palestinians are human beings, like all the rest of us. Not only do they (and we) all experience the same instinctive drives for security, dignity and ambition, like each of us, each Israeli and Palestinian faces unique, personal challenges.

Our uniqueness is our commonality: In being different, we are all alike. Not only do we all have the same feelings and drives for security, ambition, dignity, when we feel different from those around us and those in “the opposite camp,” we are again all alike.

Every human being thrives, just gets by, or suffers through hir* own:

personal experiences;

personal genes and biological or physical circumstances;

social, political, and economic situations;

psychological frameworks, coping skills, vulnerabilities, including family heritage, narratives (spoken and unspoken), and skills transmitted by parents and others who pass along trauma knowingly and willingly, or unconsciously, along with patterns or justifications for different dysfunctions; and

spiritual, ethical, and emotional resources or traditions that may help us learn to forgive and have compassion for others and for ourselves.

Second bold, radical statement: Recovery from trauma & addiction in Israel and Palestine is possible. 

It is possible there just as it is anywhere else. The path may be long and slow (just as anywhere else), and it will require courage, rigorous honesty, willingness and o pen-mindedness, a challenging measure of compassion for oneself and for others (indeed, just as anywhere else), and a turning away from a near-narcissistic obsession with our own hurts—shifting instead towards helping others—because we can only get better as part of a larger whole and keep what we have by giving it away. These are some of the principles of recovery.

The work is the same everywhere, but the conditions or expressions of the disease varies in each of us.

Are you recovering from physical or emotional abuse by a parent? sexual abuse or assault as an adult or as a child? deprivation and under-earning? love or sex addiction? gambling addiction? drug or alcohol addiction? obsessive or compulsive worry about the future (anxiety) or rehashing of failures and harms of the past (depression)?

The work to get over these difficulties and the ways in which we may “act out” on unexpressed feelings and unresolved conflicts is very similar. Each of us may find a different path that works for us, but the principles at work are the same.

You are not alone. You need not suffer alone. You need not struggle alone. Others have worked through these issues and can help you get better. In fact, they get better when they have someone to help. It is like healing the past, standing up for someone else who is walking the difficult path of recovery, as others have stood up for us, helping us along our journeys.

Third bold, radical statement: neither side can get better unless the other side does too.

One of Monks’ many points in the article was that despite a context of little to no security or economic prospects for the stateless Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, activists are doing their best to provide services for and to treat those who are struggling with heroin addiction. 

‎Another point it made, though you would be forgiven for missing it, was the interconnectedness of the Palestinian heroin users’ plight to that of heroin users in Israel. Not because of the fact that occupation brings trauma, and trauma triggers unhealthy coping mechanisms, (that was a large part of the article—not a point you could miss), but rather that there are co-occurring epidemics, one in Israel, and one in Palestine: 

Palestine is suffering from proximity to Israeli society that is suffering its own epidemic. The Israeli anti-drug authority estimated there are over 300,000 addicts in the country, including 70,000 teenagers, in a market worth around US $2 billion a year.

I would argue the problem is not one of “proximity”—it is not as though the drugs or drug use were a contagious bug wafting on a gentle breeze, penetrating Jerusalem’s stone fortress castles, or navigating its charming, winding alleys.

These two societies are interconnected, whether they like it or not. Even more importantly, all humanity is interconnected. The fantasy of separateness (even with a wall) is just that: a fantasy (more likely a nightmare).

Every crisis is also an opportunity. In Palestine and Israel, this scourge of heroin addiction offers an opportunity to unite across a difference. This very real public health problem requires solutions here and now. Lives are at stake. We may have to look for solutions outside the box. Now.

Yet we cannot solve the problem in one area without solving the problem in the other. This is a perfect example of how because we are all human, if you, my brother, have a problem, I too have a problem. These neighbors have the same problem. They are interconnected, and the solution is interconnected. 

It may be truly radical for them to start thinking of each other as brothers. Cousins who hate each other, they can barely handle, but brothers? That might be pushing them too far!

(I kid; they’ll deal. I hope.)

Fourth bold, radical statement: The principles that aid recovery and help addicts achieve serenity are exactly the same as those that can bring peace to Israel and Palestine.

What are these principles? Honesty. Open-mindedness. Willingness. Humility. A re-ordering of attitudes and outlooks that comes from a searching and fearless self-examination, taking responsibility for our part in things, right-sizing our perspectives away from hyperbole, away from always seeing ourselves as victims and never looking at what we contribute to a problem or could contribute to a solution. A recognition of and shift of one’s attention to the things we have in common, away from the things that make us different from others, and in particular those we think are out to get us. Another shift of perspective, from what others do that is wrong to what it is they do that is right. We seek freedom from the cycles of gripe and grudge. We are committed to and practice (we are not perfect!) forgiveness and compassion, patience and forbearance, charity and service.

All this may sound grandly selfless, but in the end it can rightly be viewed as selfish, selfish in a good way: helping you helps me, so I have incentive to help you, if I want to stay free of the hell of active addiction. And most who have struggled through one form of addiction or other, like the heroin addicts in East Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, will go to any lengths to maintain the freedom and happiness, the sense of usefulness they get in their recovery grounded in abstinence from the drugs and behaviors that brought them such suffering.

Recovery can be a path to understanding and moving forward for another reason: Each addict who goes through the pain of addiction, the trauma or enslavement to a drug or process addiction, and comes out the others side, shares a kinship with all others who have been through the same or are still struggling. We are survivors of the same shipwreck, as some have said, and a feeling of fellowship can grow up among us because of this very thing. Unlike those putative shipwreck survivors who walk away from the wreckage, the risk for us stays with us, so the fellowship stays alive (and indeed, we need it to stay alive as well). This fellowship is a beautiful thing.

Who could imagine that the terrible suffering of a Palestinian heroin user in East Jerusalem actually could make him a brother to the heroin user in Tel Aviv? Since addicts help each other out as part of recovery (helping others helps us, remember?), this could be the foundation of a new relationship. Imagine: a new way of relating as Palestinians and Israelis, as Arabs and Jews.

I can imagine it. Can you?

It won’t erase everything else, but it is a beginning.

And while that beginning, the change it promises, and challenging the enslavement of addiction is not easy, if we keep our eyes on the prize and hold on, the change is possible.

[Coming Soon, Part II: “Everything Else” — the struggle for freedom from trauma and addiction continues, in the specific social, political, and economic context.] 

* “hir” is a gender-neutral pronoun increasingly being used to avoid using the plural “they” that some people employ in order not to say “him” or “her” when they want to be gender-neutral but still refer to a singular person. For more information, see: http://genderneutralpronoun.wordpress.com/,
http://web.mit.edu/trans/GenderNeutralPronouns.pdf, and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender-neutral_pronoun.

Rallying for Rights

I missed the May 31, 2011, rally to preserve New York City’s HIV-services budget. The Bloomberg Administration’s solution to the current fiscal crisis is to cut funding across the City’s budget (some suggest, fairly). Critics propose raising taxes on the banks that caused the financial crisis, asserting that:

“There’s plenty of money,” said Heather Stepanek, 29, from the Bronx. “It’s not a revenue crisis, it’s a priority crisis.”

Today, June 2, 2011, City Hall faces another rally. New Yorkers are determined not to let Cairo, Casablanca, or Tunis have all the glory! And New York City can show the world what it looks like when a government allows citizens freedom of assembly and opinion—even when those citizens criticize their government and leaders.

The right to education is a human right, a civil right. Literacy is fundamental to the right to education. Citizens cannot function fully within society without being literate. At the very least, they are at a significant and unfair disadvantage without literacy.

Literacy facilitates economic self-sufficiency. With literacy, people are dramatically better able to support themselves. Economic self-sufficiency is laudable all on its own. But it also brings greater empowerment: power to make decisions and choices for ourselves; power to access health care and advocate for our needs; power to leave abusive relationships and stand on our own; power to demand safer sex from a partner or spouse who pays the bills but we believe may cheat (this is a big issue in male-to-female transmission of HIV around the world). Literacy education enables positive change in a society, in people’s economic conditions, and in their quality of life.

The statistics on adult literacy in NYC are clear. The need is great:

38% of New Yorkers are foreign-born (2000 Census).

47% of New Yorkers speak a language other than English at home (2000 Census).

Barely one-third of public school students performed at grade level on the 2001 English Language Arts exams (NYC Department of Education). 

1.5 to 2 million adults in NYC need literacy services. Fewer than 60,000 receive them (NYC Mayor’s Office).

The fact that New York has a sizeable foreign-born population matters because many countries around the world fail to educate their citizens adequately. Morocco, for example, has a literacy rate of 52%. The literacy rate for Moroccan women is just under 40%, which definitely has implications for HIV-prevention, domestic violence prevention, and other issues.

The Bloomberg Administration has shown it cares about these issues. But it needs us, the citizens, to press it to do the right thing. This is what democracy looks like: we are all accountable, not just the politicians and the banks. We all need to do our part.

Will you join me at the rally?