A few months back my Facebook news feed was abound with posted commentary about the riots that were widespread in the U.K., mostly expressing satirical condemnation á là Stephen Colbert (“im thinking of flying over there and getting some free shit”) to thoughtful opinion,“The anger and fear of the disaffected youth is, as you say, legitimate. But the riots were not provoked by youth demanding a remedy to their marginalization of mainstream society. The riots were provoked by opportunist gang members with violent tendencies… ,” At the expense of turmoil in many cities across the U.K., I secretly enjoyed the debates and discussions waging on Facebook; for the first time in weeks I was arguing and thinking critically about politics, which is something I have found little opportunity to do here in Mexico. (Ironic, as this country is abound in politics worthy of debate and discussion.) The biggest questions in my mind were whether the riots were legitimate exercises of social unrest and expressions of anger against a society and government that left youth marginalized, and what was causing the marginalization? Or, as one of my friends remarked, were the violent protests just another example of how “the youth in London just want to do hoodrat stuff with their friends”? Is the violence warranted and can it bring about actual change?
I am woefully aware of how ignorant I am as to what is causing the marginalization and dissatisfaction experienced by certain segments of society, which can be seen in the U.K. riots and now with the Occupy Wall Street protests. From my sheltered and safely pampered corner of (white) middle class America, it’s easy for me to scoff under my breath and think “you live in the first world, get over it.” But the thing is, I have no clue what “IT” is. It would be unfair of me to generalize the U.K. riots as hoodrats who just wanted to steal free shit,( even though I am sure there was more than a fair share of that going on), and the Occupy Wall Streeters as “anti-american” complainers bemoaning their lack of income. I cannot judge what I do not see and understand for myself, and although I am woefully ignorant, I am becoming aware of greater undercurrents at work in the world that I had previously been blithely unaware. For instance, my new conscious has me asking questions about the U.S. financial system works and what is really going on between the government or the corporations. Even though the Wall Street protests will probably not be immediately effective in bringing change, they fix the public’s attention on the matter and with more press, more eyes, and more wondering minds, the better. They will draw people into dialogue, which will (hopefully) bring action and change. But I wonder how much change can be brought in a country and system that holds material wealth and success as the demarkation for a good life.
Success in the United States is not success unless it comes with a six figure paycheck, which is only possible through a six figure college degree.[1] The idea that it is money, not mores, which marks rank and importance can be seen in practically all aspects of our society. We reward athletes unseemly millions for being the best in a competition, actors receive likewise an enormous amount for pretending life (despite whether or not their performance actually merits it), and for the rest of the normal population our value is measured in whether or not we have the ability to choose between the black Audi, or the silver. What youth are protesting around the world goes deeper than just simple corruption of our financial system and the men who run it, thereby creating a society of haves and have-nots. Perhaps it is a reflection of the dissonance caused by a culture and environment that purports that happiness and success is found in the financial wealth of an individual. If we want change in this world it must begin with our ideas of what makes a good life, a good man or woman, and how best to fulfill those notions. Beneath the dissonance is the influence of the a perverted so-called “American Dream.” The dream, which at one time meant to have equal opportunity, rights, and freedoms, has now turned into a gross lifestyle goal of getting rich. What’s more, we hide our fear of being on the other side of the “gap” -the side of poverty and un-opportunity that exists in the U.S. and for billions the world over- by filling our lives with more cool things and distraction that mostly cost a pretty penny.[2] Nor is this objective confined to just the borders of the United States. It can be seen touted the world over as the lifestyle to reach for. But here is the rub: not everyone can live as Americans do; it is impossible for our planet to sustain such a way of living. So this is about more than just old, morally corrupt white guys who control the country through various mediums, it is the cry of the need of change far deeper than money can go.
How incredible this world would be if instead of growing up with the notion that a good life depends on our job and income it rested on our passions that make us come alive. How beautiful this world would be if instead of reaching all the time for the stars for our own personal success, we reached out a hand to those who have no stars to reach for. I have two friends who recently graduated and who I look up to immensely, (though I am sure they are not aware of it); for the next year these two young women will serve communities as PCUSA volunteers. There are few better ways to make change in this world- and in the United States- than by serving your neighbor next to you, whether they are in Atlanta or halfway around the world in India. We need more youth in this world like Rachel and Leslie, who in a way are helping rewrite what it means to live the American Dream by reaching for more than just monetary success. Poverty, education disparity, a life that doesn’t include the latest edition of the iPhone 4; these are scary things for many Americans to think on and address,[3] but we can no longer ignore the “other half” and the problems that exist due to the uneven distribution of wealth in a corrupt financial system. Nor can we evade the root of how we got to this point as a country in the first place. These protests might not change the lives of millions in the United States within the fortnight, but once a conscience has arisen in a person, whether it be the greater understanding of political and financial structures or the realization of what a good life entails, you cannot go back to the state of thinking that once was, you must go forward.
Fall has rolled softly into the mountains of Xalapa, and it brings clouds and occasional rain in the afternoons. It’s Halloween, my favorite holiday of candy-comprising-of-chocolate- glutton (Thanksgiving being my favorite holiday of really- overly-delicious- food- glutton) but here in Mexico Halloween is practiced as an afterthought to the main event, Day of the Dead, which is on November 1st. Tomorrow, the dead ancestors will revisit families in the night and eat the offerings of foods left out on beautifully decorated alters. Families will go to graves…and actually I’m not quite sure what happens after that. I know there will be lots of drinking, lots of eating, and general festive debauchery that occurs here with every holiday and celebration. Tomorrow I am sure to find out though as I will be spending Dia de los Muertos with some friends in the small, traditional town of Naolinco. What I love about Dia de los Muertos is that it is a celebration of the dead, not a time to mourn but rather to celebrate their lives once more. It is a strong example of how the Mexican culture views death in such different light than the U.S. We Americans are brought up to fear and ignore death and to be forever youthful (there are entire industries devoted to cheat aging in women !!). We hide the dead and dying in hospitals and subject is a generally taboo to discuss openly. Which sucks in my opinion. Growing up I was never taught how to handle death with grace. More so, I was never taught how to handle the news of death of whenever someone tells me a close relative or family member or loved one has died. I am at a loss of words to say and whatever comes tumbling out of my mouth is so painfully inadequate in expressing my empathy for their sorrow and loss. But in reality, I suppose there truly are no words to say. Speaking of death, yesterday I nearly killed my program director, Rob, when I was climbing out of the mouth of a cave and a giant, porous, volcanic rock that my foot was on dislodged and fell. It missed his head by inches. To make matters worse, minutes before I nearly knocked him out with a flashlight that I was attempting to throw above ground to my back pack, and instead the flashlight flew over my pack and passed through the second cave opening on the other side. Apparently I had forgotten that giant gaping hole in the ground. Despite some mis-adventures with flashlights and rocks, the few hours I spent exploring volcanic lava made caves was absolutely incredible. We went deep into the cool, yawning tunnels where once lava flowed and now only pure darkness inhabits. We shimmed our way through chutes wide enough for one person and clamored over the incredibly sharp and twisted volcanic rocks that left cut marks on our ankles. And for those few hours, we experienced the rare condition of absolute silence and a dark only thought of in dreams. It is incredible how wherever you are in Nature it never fails to make you feel small, whether it be on the shore of the vast ocean, or as you inch your was along a cool shaft whose ceiling is mere inches from your nose. (I am not claustrophobic, but having to shimmy my way along a tunnel for some time was both extremely exhilarating and terrifying at once. It didn’t help that every terrible cave movie I had ever seen kept reminding me that being trapped in the earth is not a pleasant way to die.) Being out in the wilderness has reminded me how strongly my attachment to Nature is, and how happy I am when I am in it. It feels like coming home. It feels like an endless possibility of exploration and adventure. It feels like I’m getting tired of living in a city. Though Xalapa has no contest with Chennai in noise, pollution, and just masses of people everywhere, it is still a city. Lately too this month, I’ve been getting the antsy feeling of the need to travel once more, explore other unknown boundaries and cities and meet new people. Conversely, I have also been experiencing a strong desire to see my friends and family back home, to laugh truly and loudly from pure mirth, and not just because as a foreigner I do some stupid things every now and then in Mexico. That will come soon enough, in exactly a month in fact. But in between now and home in Texas, there are papers to write, topics to present and research, and Spanish to speak. There is life to live here in Mexico; I must not forget that.
CLB Collins 