On Jan. 13, Jewish Life through Campus Ministry hosted a Civil Rights Shabbat. The powerful messages discussed by Rabbi Rachel Gartner, Professor Terrence Johnson, and Professor Jacques Berlinerblau culminated in the urgency for our communities to come together and have one another’s backs. One reading from the Jewish prayerbook, which draws from the Exodus story, stood out to me for its embodiment of the Jewish tradition of deciding at every moment whether to discern, engage, or take action. It is read each Shabbat evening to signify the shift from day to night, from the hustle of the week to the peaceful utopia of the sabbath.
“This is an hour of change.
Within it we stand uncertain on the border of light.
Shall we draw back or cross over?
Whether shall our hearts turn?
Shall we draw back, my brother, my sister,
or cross over?
This is the hour of change, and within it,
we stand quietly
on the border of light.
What lies before us?
Shall we draw back, my brother, my sister,
or cross over?”
Right now is indeed an hour of change—for our country, our communities, and our world. And perhaps this transition from the Obama administration to the era of Trump is how we stand, teetering on the border of light. We have options: for what do we stand? For whom will we fight? How will we take care of ourselves and those most vulnerable?
After tragedies such as the shootings on Dec. 14, 2012 in my hometown of Newtown, Conn., the tradition in the U.S. has become to send “thoughts and prayers.” After shootings, Americans might buckle at the knees and cry for the victims. Elected officials often tweet their #ThoughtsAndPrayers. But most of those people will not join a local organization fighting for gun reform, and most of those elected officials will accept checks from the National Rifle Association in their next election. How is it that we accept their “good intent” as a legitimate response to horrifying events that are so clearly the effect of their inaction?
While those affected appreciate their message of love and kindness, it is not enough. This rhetoric does not address what the community will face when the cameras leave, and it does not commit to taking steps to make the changes necessary to ensure that what happened in places like my hometown never happen again.
Aicha Nzie
On the heels of Inauguration Day, we must all individually commit to putting that love and intent we hold in our hearts into action. All too often, tropes are used—especially by the left—as a mask and an excuse not to do the hard work; let’s make 2017 the year of buckling down and walking the walk.
In many ways, I fear that liberals of our generation have been spoiled by President Obama’s tenure. For the past eight years, the First Family has represented the idealism, hard work, and inspiration of millennials. Barack and Michelle are not just cool; they’re approachable and smooth; they’re complex yet accessible. They seemingly embody so much of what our generation—the most diverse, tolerant, and revolutionary of any generation before—holds dear. President Obama inspired the next wave of organizers and advocates, and he gave us a glimmer of hope, even through stalled progress in Congress and often in state legislatures. He taught us that change and hope were possible and worthy pursuits. While there are always challenges, there is something to be said about taking solace in the fact that the person at the top has your back.
Now, our generation of movers and shakers, activists, organizers, and informed individuals must reconcile moving into an era where we have a diminished system of checks and balances protecting us, with a Republican majority in Congress and a (likely) conservative Supreme Court. Moreover, there are only four states in the union with both a blue legislature and governorship.
We should not mince words: there is no need for the right to compromise with the left because it has full control over every arm of government. And so, we remain with a government that wants to undo the last eight years. Steve Bannon, Trump’s chief strategist and ex-chair of Breitbart said once in a conversation with The Daily Beast, “I’m a Leninist … Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal, too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.”
We are heading into an uncertain storm. How do we weather it? Zadie Smith, one of our most important literary and activist voices today, recently wrote, “At this moment, all over the world—and most recently in America—the conductors standing in front of this human orchestra have only the meanest and most banal melodies in mind … But there is no place on earth where they have not been played at one time or another. Those of us who remember, too, a finer music must try now to play it, and encourage others, if we can, to sing along.”
How do we play a finer tune and all sing along?
Join the Women’s March. Do not downplay the power of students. Find the organizations, student leaders, and active professors with whom to join and get involved. Now is the time for radical thought, radical restructuring, and radical exploration. We must adapt and act in order to safeguard what we hold dear in an era of political and social uncertainty. Next, we know very well from the campaign season that President-elect Trump and those surrounding him have no qualms about targeting Muslims, immigrants, undocumented individuals, people of color, and “the other” in general. It is our duty to protect those neighbors who are most directly impacted by the dangerous rhetoric and actions of Trumpism.
Write down your biography: who you are, what you love, what you fear, and the things you’d never do or say. We have no idea what is to come, and those things might be tested. Additionally, learn how to discern truth, because Trump’s tactics of confusing the press and the Twittersphere are ways with which he seeks to discredit all sources of information, muddle the truth, and cause utter distrust in government and civil society. Self-education is critical and will ground us in whatever direction we go, while also providing perspective. Most importantly, be in constant contact with a set of people who will check on you and keep you afloat.
This moment will require all of us to chip in both in big ways and small. #ThoughtsAndPrayers are not enough.
Will we draw back or cross over?
This is the work of our ancestors and those who came before us. It rests on the shoulders of activists and organizers, union reps, and academics of the past, and has been passed to us like a baton. It is the work of which civil rights advocate Rabbi Abraham Heschel spoke when he famously said, “When I march, my feet are praying.” It is enduring and spiraling; the arc of justice is not a straight line. Sometimes it feels as though we take two steps forward and three back. Maybe that’s what we’re experiencing now, as we conclude a week bookended by Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and the inauguration of Donald J. Trump. So we will persevere and choose love, but with all the actions, progress, hardship, and battles that entails.
Sarah is a junior in the College.
