Volunteering in Chicago

It’s no secret that I have been missing Bread for the City since I left in August. While I left six months ago, I still think about Bread for the City daily, about memories with clients, with coworkers, and with my JVC house. I am ruined for life and can never look at the world the same way. Indeed, I have written about this experience many times and have referred to the word, accompaniment. My time at Gonzaga trained me to strive to accompany others in the service we do, to recognize how we are mutually indebted, and to help us realize that we aren’t heroes in the work we do. And, the attorneys at Bread for the City taught me this same lesson day by day when I would meet with our clients. In fact, I believe my own viewpoint shifted as I watched myself understand what it means to truly be in relationships with others, and to suspend my own hero complex.

This repositioning of my own viewpoints has left me craving relationships with clients. Graduate school can be isolated, and my days are often full of me in my apartment reading sociological books and articles. I love my work and find a different type of fulfillment in it. Yet, because I feel my viewpoint seems to be with the client of Bread for the City, it is sometimes hard to always know how to juggle a life that is now focused purely on my own academic development. I was glad when a fellow friend in graduate school suggested we start volunteering and we found a program affiliated with Loyola. We signed up to go once a week with other Loyola students to a local soup kitchen. I became excited with this new opportunity to try and be in relationship with clients and to leave academia for a couple of hours.

I have to admit, being away from Bread for the City now for six months, I found that I was nervous about my accompaniment skills. Bread for the City gave me the opportunity to practice them forty plus hours each week; in addition, I would go home to a house full of others trying to practice and dinner conversation was frequently about how to be more present with our clients. Not doing this for six months left me nervous about my own abilities and I found myself nervous and anxious at our service placement tonight.

Beginning a new service placement is always difficult and uncomfortable, especially when trying to practice accompaniment rather than service as a heroic deed. We arrived to a shelter that looked nothing like Miriam’s Kitchen, the place I was used to in D.C. The walls were painted a pale yellow that did not emulate feelings of glowing sunshine, but rather of mediocrity. We awkwardly stood around until we were told to just hang out in the kitchen while the guests set up the tables.

The next step made me feel joyous as we were instructed to simply sit with guests. I was struck with how difficult accompaniment is initially. While the guests I sat with were friendly, I found myself unsure what to share of myself. What questions should I ask? How can I be open and honest, but not offensive? How can I talk without displaying my privilege so candidly? I found it was easiest for me to ask questions about the city, as I am new here. I asked Johnny about where he grew up and where his favorite places were, and we laughed at how cold I was in the snow. Ok, perhaps this is an entry into that accompaniment is about.

We then were told to come help serve the meal, and I must admit, this made my heart sick. The director, probably not maliciously, announced our group name, and the group of guests applauded for our “generosity of time.” Heroism replaced accompaniment as now, our “sacrifice” is paraded to make us feel appreciated. Is this what service should be about?

We lined up to serve the meal – I was horrified to see such a undignified meal: white rice not cooked adequately, pork in a sauce that is mostly grease, beans in a gruel looking dish with hot dogs, and bread that looks like it is the cheapest hamburger quality the supermarket sells. No, this is not the dinner of Miriam’s, where Steve spends time perfecting the meals so that the guests can have the most dignifying meal. This isn’t Miriam’s Kitchen, where Adam and Kierstin conduct outreach to guests, making artwork and sharing coffee and laughs.

No, this is not accompaniment. This is white guilt repackaged as charity, as a heroism done, a pat on the back for helping the homeless.

If it weren’t enough, as we were ready to leave, the guests applauded us, to once again, give us a trophy to stroke our egos and inform us, that yes, we are actually superior, generous, wealthy, and perfect citizens.

Where does this leave us in the interaction? Certainly not mutually indebted. Rather, I have become the hero whose charity is paraded for all to see. And the guest as “other” has become reinforced and solidified. I am able to leave this hell to return to my luxurious life of entitlement. I can feel good about this too, for I have given to “the homeless.” And the other is left to continue a life of oppression.

And I have signed up to participate in this week after week for the next semester.

But yet – it doesn’t seem right to quit. Surely, perhaps, accompaniment and dignity can happen if our group works at it. Perhaps the ideal models of Bread for the City and Miriam’s Kitchen will never be actualized again. But perhaps, I need to strive to live this model so that others can see its power in building kinship with one another.

It’s not time to give up hope, but to remember to be faithful and continue growing toward a vision of simply us.

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Ideas and context, as always, were taken from these sources:

Ausland, A. (2005). Staying for tea: Five principles for the community service volunteer. TheGlobal Citizen 2 pp. 5-15.

Boyle, Gregory, SJ. (2005). The voices of those who sing. Spiritus5:1, 79-87.

Returning to Washington

During this trip to Washington, I didn’t see the White House, the National Mall, any Smithsonians, or even the dome of the Capital. I only once saw the Washington Monument, from on a hill a couple miles away. It was not the tourist visit to Washington, but a visit back to one’s home. It was a visit full of relationships, full of conversations, and full of reminiscing.

A good friend of mine believes that many of our life experiences are shared with people we care about and fade into the past. We find meaning in our lives by pointing to these reminiscable shared experiences, which in turn shape how we act in the present, and how we form and picture our future. These reminiscable shared experiences cause us to experience community in a powerful way as we reflect on who we are as individuals journeying through life, making sense of who we are.

This trip to Washington indulged me in the joys of reminiscable shared experiences. Looking back on our community experience, we laughed at the ridiculous stories that formed us as a community, we smiled on the challenges that pushed us farther than we could imagined, and we thanks God and one another that we are who we are today, because of those experiences. I couldn’t help but think, you are on to something my friend, could I have remembered this beautiful stories and laughed the way I did if it wasn’t with one another? Perhaps not. Perhaps they would have been forgotten, and erased forever. And yet, isn’t it beautiful that together we can return together and remember our experiences together and find joy and comfort in that experience?

Perhaps more beautiful is the fact that we reflect, we grow, we laugh, we cry, and we continue with our lives – we turn back to those times, and we allow them to shape who we are today and who we will be together. And we are thankful for those experiences, because they are woven into our existence, and are imprinted in our worldviews.

While I didn’t see the sites one typically goes to see in Washington, I saw what I believe might just be the more profound sites of the District of Columbia:

Vinoteca – a place of many conversations over glasses of wine, and a place we returned to have another laugh and another glass of wine

Himalyan Heritage – another special place where over Nepalese food, many conversations were had with one special friend – conversations that I still think about, and that still shape me today.

Starbucks on Georgia and Bryant – a place that had many coffee dates, that was frequented on the way to work, and that hold a special place in my heart.

Cleveland Park – a neighborhood where I went canvassing for change, that showed me the power of talking with others about our clients, and taught me a lesson in what it means to see ones heart be changed right in front of you

Azi’s – that small café that many Bread for the City friends spent many times at.

Pittango – a place where many conversations were had, not with coffee or wine, but with some gelato that rivals that of Florence, Italy.

130 Bryant – a home that was more than a home, but was a community

Bread for the City – a place that words cannot describe – a place that truly taught me accompaniment, a place that on the one hand, introduced me to the profound despair that is the result of our unequal society, and on the other hand, the joy that comes with knowing and being in relationship with the poor.

Indeed, these sites were instrumental sites that today are the keys of our reminiscable shared experiences in Washington. We returned to them because they are symbols of who we are – symbols of what Washington means to us, and symbols that fill our hearts with joy and renew our spirits. Yes – you were right my friend – these reminisciable shared experiences truly do have a special power.

Looking at Welfare Reform through Another Lens Besides My Own

Quadagno & Street (2005) state that the United States follows the neo-liberal model of government, especially in regards to our perspectives of individualism and individual rights. We are a country built on a model of self sufficiency and “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” language. It is easy to see in the discourse and criticisms of many of our urban poor: they need to work harder… they need to stop depending on welfare… I can’t believe I’m paying my taxes and working hard so that those poor people can just depend on the government. The comments are numerous, degrading, and continually divisive, but they reinforce our perspectives of individual rights.

Quadagno & Street continue to state that voluntarism is also highly valued in the United States. Voluntarism places an emphasis on private donations by individuals rather than governmental assistance as a means to redistribute income to lower income members of society. For example, leading economist Milton Friedman makes an argument for voluntarism in his book, Free to Choose. Essentially, Friedman argues that if taxes were lower, and governmental services for income maintenance and redistribution were privatized, people would have the altruistic desire to give more to charitable organizations to continue this work. Regardless if Friedman’s point is correct, voluntarism is not an effective means to achieving social justice; for, rather than creating a system of dependency on the government, the poor are dependent on charitable organizations that in turn are dependent on charitable and altruistic individuals. Dependency still exists; charity (giving from one’s surplus) perpetuates inequality as there is no structural level change happening. So, while valued in United States, it doesn’t seem that reliance on voluntarism is the correct social policy to achieve social justice.

Working at Bread for the City last year, I found myself often asking the question, how can we encourage those on welfare to find jobs and go back to work? I was asking this, not from a judging condemning viewpoint, but more so, from an attempt to reflect on how can we make policies that make sense and actually work, and that act as a safety net for those who are in need without creating cyclical dependency. Can we create any social justice with our conceptions of welfare policy?

However, I found it interesting to reflect on Orloff (2005)’s article on United States welfare reform. Orfloff argues that the 1996 Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act was an attempt to eliminate the social right for poor single mothers to care for their children full time. Instead, as Orloff writes, “Staying at home full time to care for children has come to be understood as something to be earned through one’s efforts in the labor market – as a reward from an employer who gives paid leave” (pp.109-110). Reflecting on this point sheds light into my own thoughts on TANF last year.

Turning to myself, raised in a two-parent household, my parents were able to make our family function happen on one income during my younger years. Yet, this was a choice they had simply by being a two parent household. And in fact, I believe those years having my mother at home shaped our family, the way I look at the world, and consequently, I cannot list all the benefits our family has experienced because of those years. For my mother, raising children full time was a full time job and right in our family, something that is denied to other lower income women, simply because they are low income.

So returning to the ideological rhetoric we commonly hear about welfare benefits and the “laziness” of “welfare queens,” it is interesting to see how my own middle class perspectives shaped my own understanding of welfare. Instead of thinking about the same model of child-rearing I experienced, I projected my own values of individualism and self sufficiency, middle class values drilled into me by the American process of socialization. In my own reflections (all with positive non-judgmental intentions), I too was contributing to the common statements that, because these women are poor, they don’t share the right my mother had to stay at home with their children.

Works Cited

Friedman, M. & Friedman, R. (1990). Free to choose: A personal statement. Orlando, FL: Harcourt.

Orloff, A. (2005). Examining US welfare reform: Power, gender, race, and the US policy legacy. Critical Social Policy, 22(1) 96-118.

Quadagno, J. & Street, D. (2005). Ideology and public policy: Antistatism in American welfare state transformation. The Journal of Policy History, 17(1) 52-71.

Power Differences between the Sociologist and the Public

Often, in the service experiences I’ve been reflecting over the past few years, the issue of power has come up – we the “white” individuals come into a community, one who is usually poor and a minority, and have money, skills, and other resources that we can give; the result is there is a power difference that is often unfair and perpetuates the inequality. And, if we aren’t careful, we find in many instances that people become dependent on the white man, and expect that the white man will come and save the day. This breeds in us a “hero complex” as Aaron Ausland describes in his article, Staying for Tea.

Ausland suggests that we change our frame of reference to one of accompaniment, in which a relationship is formed with those we serve; rather than dominating and dictating, we instead become “mutually indebted” – we recognize that we both have needs and in our relationship, we grow from one another. The relationship is not one sided; rather, we both have something to give, and indeed, there is a sense of transformation that happens, a transformation that is more whole and deep than the service itself (Ausland, 2005, p. 6).

I believe while it’s still a deep challenge for all of us as servants, it’s something that can be achieved in the service we do. For indeed, I developed relationships with clients at Bread for the City, and found myself being transformed by our interactions.

But is it as easy to translate to the dynamics of sociological research? A classmate of mine posed the question of the power struggle between the researcher and the public. The researcher comes in with the knowledge, the research project, and often in the eyes of the client, is at an elevated level. Is it possible then, to “Stay for Tea” in this situation? Time might not permit it, and the nature of research is not to develop a transformation relationship.

Now, it is true, sociologists are working for social justice, and so we have been transformed by the people and experiences we have had that have led us to where we are today. But, it seems to me that we might be reaping more benefits than we are giving in this research process: we are transformed by our interactions with the poor, we gain many insights that we translate in our research process, we write and publish papers, and our careers advance. Combined with the educational gap, we surely have more power than our clients in these research projects. How can we possibly equal the playing field?

Is doing the research simply enough to justify this power dynamic? Perhaps. My professor mentioned an example doing public sociological research on a domestic violence hotline: survivors of domestic violence expressed gratitude to the researchers, knowing that by improving the hotline, they and future victims would have better access to services and would therefore be better protected from their batterers. For these survivors, they were able to fulfill what Ragin calls is one of the primary goals of sociological research: “giving voice” (Ragin, 2011, p. 46). Often, Ragin describes, marginalized populations aren’t able to provide their voice and input into the research that goes into society. By these sociologists talking with these survivors of domestic violence, they were able to provide their own real perspective in a way that could change and improve services.

We also talked about ensuring that people recognize our gratitude through monetary compensation or by showing that their time is valuable and appreciated. Finally, by treating the clients with the highest dignity and respect, we can communicate to them how important they are to the work we are doing.

In the advocacy efforts I was part of at Bread, I saw that clients are not just interested in services that will help them; rather, they are interested in “giving their voice,” providing their perspectives so that injust structures may change, or at least be less injust. Many clients across many organizations joined advocates at the City Council building countless times to protest and advocate to city officials for better services and more concern for the poor. So, yes, in this sense, it seems true that clients, such as the domestic violence survivors, would feel comfort in knowing that they were part of greater advocacy efforts.

I still am stuck though; the options don’t seem great enough. Perhaps it’s because it’s not as holistic as Ausland’s model of accompaniment. Sociological research is different than service, and thus, must adhere to different rules, policies, and procedures. This makes it’s an official science and we need sociology to be professional and scientific so that it will be valid and respected. But, I am torn; I have spent many years now trying to develop a sense of accompaniment in the work I am doing. And, as Fr. Greg Boyle describes it, I have been striving develop a sense of kinship: no longer us and them, but just us (Boyle, 2005). Are we, as researchers, just creating a greater divide between us and them?

It’s the second week of graduate school. I have a lot to learn, a lot to experience, and many projects to complete. Perhaps as I continue to grow and learn, I’ll find new ways to accompany clients in research and build kinship.



Works Cited:

Ausland, A. (2005). Staying for tea: Five principles for the community service volunteer. The
Global Citizen 2 pp. 5-15.

Boyle, Gregory, SJ. (2005). The voices of those who sing. Spiritus5:1, 79-87.

Ragin, C.C. & Amoroso, L.M. (2011). Constructing Social Research. 2nd ed. Pine Forge Press.

Change Happens on the Journey

During our Jesuit Volunteer Corps closing retreat, we talked about the concept of a pilgrimage or journey. In that journey, often, the growth happens throughout the journey, but it is realized after the journey is complete. In a talk given by Sharon of the JVC staff, she mentioned the Wise Men of the Gospel and said,

"The wisemen were changed by their experience of Jesus and took a different route home."

When I look back on this year and the journey of JVC, I am most radically changed in my understanding of what it means to accompany others, to live on solidarity, and to develop kinship.

The idea of accompanying someone suggest a journey is to be had. In fact, all relationships are a journey, full of pockets of what St. Ignatius calls consolation and desolation. On a journey with others, we sense the times when we can tangible feel the presence of God, and others where we have a striking fear or perception that God has been absent.

I began working with clients at Bread during the first days of my experience, and as you know, soon received my own caseload of persons applying for Social Security Disability benefits. Working with clients consistently began to open my eyes to the realities of accompaniment. In the past, I have reflecting on winning Mr. R's SSI case and watching him fill with hope. This man, suffering from a long discouraging litany of impairments, has been finally granted some solace on his journey. I too felt hope, and God's presence in these moments.

Throughout the year, I became much more comfortable with, and well equipped to understand the experiences of the clients we serve at Bread for the City, and the larger systemic and underlying hurdles that cause our clients? life experience. Perhaps these realizations made it easier to understand what it means to accompany others. When individuals would walk into Bread towards the end of the year, I felt myself able to simply accompany them through the complexities of the legal system.

Yet, these same moments on the journey - the same moments of consolation - have hinted at, and often have been smothered by the overwhelming presence of desolation. My clients live an experience muddled by a system of classism, sexism, and especially racism. Theirs (and arguably, our own) lives are tainted by a system that predisposes them to lives of inequality, increased disparity, disadvantages, prejudices, and cyclical poverty. How can I possible see or experience a loving God in the midst of such suffering and desolation?

It is in the moments working on Mr. R's case, when he says he too wants to go to the City Council to advocate on behalf of programs that have fostered growth and self-actualization in him

It is in the moments of goodbye, when Mr. J. tells me to "never quit the books," even if it is hard, and I promise him that I won't quit.

It is in the moments of simply being present during walk-ins, listening, sharing my experience, growing...

It is in these moments and the many more moments this year that I have most closely felt God. And it is precisely because I have seen the true and authentic humanity in people society pretends do not exist.

"The wisemen were changed by their experience of Jesus and took a different route home."

Indeed, I have been radically changed through my experience of accompaniment this year, and in the moments of consolation and desolation. It is because of this year that I know I must always continue to explore what it means to truly accompany others, and to always work to make positive social and structural change.

Ruined and Transformed for Life

Over these past couple of weeks, I have come to see what it means to be “ruined for life,” one of JVC’s official taglines. I doubted this would apply to me when I began my year in JVC. In fact, I felt this had already happened to me in East LA… in my experiences meeting others in Europe… in Zambia… in my conversations with friends over coffee… and in the many other shaping experiences throughout my life. It is true – it did happen in high school, in college, and in those many experiences listed above. I attribute my family, my friends, my teachers, my mentors, my faith, and my experiences to be the guiding forces that have led me here, and have instilled in me this thirst for justice, and a deep hearted compassion for the poor.

Yet, it’s funny how true the statement, “ruined for life” really is. In my most recent encounters, I have found myself surprisingly changed, and cannot helped but reflect on this change. Perhaps a couple examples illustrate this most clearly:

A conversation in Maine about the causes of inequality left me unsatisfied, frustrated, and upset. Perspectives raised focused on the laziness of the poor, while neglecting any sort of criticism of the structural barriers that have oppressed and crushed them. Despite my attempts at advocacy, I found myself unsuccessful in showing structural level problems that leave many Americans beginning their lives without equal opportunity. No longer, though, am I upset because I have merely lost a discussion in which I feel passionate. No – it is no longer about me. It is about my clients. My outrage is not because of my pride, but because I picture my personal clients and point to their own lives as living testaments to society’s condemning of our poor.

Another conversation in Maine, reflecting on the simplicity of rural life (in contrast to the materialistic emphasis of the fast paced urban life) has resurfaced in many thoughts over these past weeks. Yes – it is true that living out in the country provides one with less distractions, more emphasis on the present, and less focus on material possessions and appearance. It is easy to contrast this with urban life. Challenged by this conversation, and entering the material shopping scene of downtown Portland, I found myself facing inner dissonance between the call to a simple lifestyle, and the temptations of life’s beautiful treasures. I continue to reflect on what it means to purchase responsibly, to consider what it means to live simply, and to examine my own true needs.

That same conversation, challenging my views of simplicity, and my desires to live an urban life, also forced me to reflect on my own clients – their life experience, and the lack of choices they face. It is true – I as a privileged member of society can decide what simplicity means to me, and whether I truly find myself in the most rural or urban places. Yet, trapped and segregated to the most destitute of neighborhoods in D.C., my clients mere choices forgo personal growth and are replaced with true questions of need in order to survive.

Institutional racism, a concept that seemed so abstract one year ago, now shines as bright as the North Star. No longer can I view society through a color-blind race-less society in which all races interact with equal opportunity and privilege. No – though I can appreciate the accomplishments we have made for our non-white citizens (especially as we see Barack Obama as our current president), it is impossible for me to ignore the institutional racism that has left my African American clients born into poor families with a lack of positive family structure, trapped in schools that consume the dreams of children and instead fester and perpetuate hopelessness, and continuing into adulthood engulfed with this hopelessness, find no escape from the cycle of poverty. This institutional racism persists and continues to deepen despite our thoughts that we have emerged into a new color-blind society.

And returning to themes of simplicity and social justice, I found myself in Georgetown this weekend indulging myself at JCrew. As I looked around Georgetown, in a way I haven’t felt yet, I experience our American culture in a way I haven’t quite noticed before. I was suddenly aware of the racial divide of Georgetown and the neighborhood of Anacostia. Sure, of course I’ve been to Georgetown, and course I’ve noticed it before. But more present this time, was a sickening feeling of our masking of poverty. Though I enjoyed my time in Georgetown, I felt a deeper awareness of the materialism that consumes us, and the individualistic mindset that forces us to keep our eyes on ourselves, insulated from problems just blocks away from us.

I walked into Bread for the City today, and felt a sense of ruth fill my soul. At home, I felt, seeing the clients who patiently wait until 9:00am on Monday morning. Seeing a familiar face as I meet with Ms. N and continue our journey through the process of the Social Security Administration. Here I feel at home. At home with the people of my neighborhood, and my work.

It is true – there are many who do not continue to take full responsibility for themselves, and I continue to see this in some people. What is greater, though, is the lack of responsibility that has been instilled in them, and the dependence society has fostered through our institutional racism, through our systems of inequity, and our focus on our individual mindset. It’s easier to keep our clients dependent because then we can criticize them. It’s easy to label them as lazy and rotten because then we can justify our own existence. It’s easy to do this because we don’t know the poor as true humans, but rather, as the inhuman lazy statistical poor.

And it is easy to continue to live lives of consumption of self investment only. It’s easy because it’s our culture, and though it initially feels satisfying, it leaves us quenched for more, for more, and for more.

Forever will I look at the world through the eyes of my experiences, but most especially, through my experience at Bread for the City. I continue to grasp what it means to grow closer to God, to find a way to live the words of the Gospel, and the words of Micah. It is true, I am ruined for life. But perhaps, more accurately, I am transformed for life. I continue to pray that I will live for and with my clients, that I will accompany them, and that I will grow closer to God who calls me to this work.

The Value of Simplicity

This year has challenged me to explore what it means to live a simple lifestyle. When paired with the work we are doing in our placements, the value of living in community, and intentionality in our faith, there is a dynamic of both challenge and peace that come with living simply.

I have come to understand hat there are two main virtues in living a simple lifestyle. Perhaps most intuitively is the idea that living simply, in all aspects of the word, leads to more freedom from the realities of a consumerist and materialistic society. So often, our world tells us we need the newest product of everything. The newest product will make us happy. We need the newest style of clothing. Yet the message is false: for as soon as a new more stylish piece of clothing arrives in the fall, we will no longer be happy, but instead will crave what is new. The reality is that most of my clothes are just fine. In fact, I brought less than half of my clothing with me to JVC and I've been more than fine. I apparently don't need the rest, even if I may still want them.

I think there is something to be said about the way simplicity helps us understand who our clients are, and to understand their own life's journey. Each month, I am paid less than the SSI check my clients receive, and unlike them, I'm not receiving additional assistance like food stamps. Instead, most of my check has predetermined endpoints: rent, utilities, food, household items, and transportation. Eighty five dollars remain intact after our house bills are paid.

In some ways, simplicity, at least financially, has been especially challenging. The question becomes, what do I really need and how do I budget to make that happen? Perhaps I don't need another drink at our Legal Clinic Happy Hour, but I would enjoy another. I suppose I don't need Starbucks coffee beans, but Starbucks does taste a lot better than Folgers or ChocFull of Nuts.

The challenge becomes balancing the simplicity choices. The joy I have found is in the simple instances when I indulge into the luxuries I had previous found common. When thrown into the blend of many days of ChocFull of Nuts, suddenly Starbucks seems to taste better, richer, and it becomes much more enjoyable and special. Happy hour is filled with much more happiness and delight.

And, though maybe it's an exaggeration to say, but simplicity - the act of budgeting, of sacrificing, and of delaying our pleasures, gives me a little insight into the lives of our clients. The difference, however, is that I live in a house of other volunteers whose safety nets are tight and comprehensive. Our immediate safety net is in one another, and the contribution we bring to our household expenses each month. Our budget ensures that we will be challenged, yet successful in meeting our basic needs. An SSI check can't ensure that each month.

While I can't say I can understand all of my clients' daily experiences financially, I believe my challenge in simplicity has helped me move one step closer to empathizing with their difficulty and painful financial options they get to choose from each day. While it's clear that in many ways, my life will never be the same as my clients', at least this way I can try and accompany them on their life journeys.

Safety Nets and Choices - Two Lessons of the Fall

I attended a New Attorneys Orientation training held at the DC Bar in the fall - the training focused on learning about the District of Columbia government and court system, as well as giving new attorneys insights into the clients they will be working with. While I am not an attorney, the training was both enlightening and practical for my work at Bread for the City.

Patty Mullahy Fugere, executive director of Washington Legal Clinic for the Homless, gave a presentation on Safety Nets. By asking us a series of questions about our personal lives, she invited us to reflect on what our own safety nets look like. Then, we did the same exercise with a hypothetical client of the Legal Clinic. While our net was full and would catch us should we fall, the hypothetical client's net had such wide gaps in it that she would probably fall through in a situation of trouble. Reflecting on both the given aspects of our lives, as well as the choices we have some control over, it is clear that we are often more blessed than that hypothetical client.

Later in the training, Rebecca Lindhurst, one of our Landlord/Tenant attorneys at Bread for the City, spoke about insights she has learned through her own client relationships. Standing clear in my mind is her message about judging clients: Sometimes, we tend to judge the decisions our clients make without thinking about their safety nets - often they are coming from a poorly built safety net, and their choices make sense given their prediciments. Yet - we must let our clients make their own choices. I as a middle class college graduate am able to make the choices to move to DC, the choices to have the friends I like, the choices to work where I'd like, and the choice to make a mistake. If we are to really see our clients as on the same page as us, we need to let our clients make their own mistakes, and be there as part of their safety net instead of another member of society to judge them.

This incident makes me think of the article, Staying for Tea*, one that was a staple of my college service experiences. Staying for Tea discusses what it means to accompany others, to walk with them and be present in their lives. Author Aaron Ausland describes this process as becoming "mutually indebted" - recognizing that when we serve others, we are interdepedent. We both grow because of the service, and this growth ties us together.

Reading this article and reflecting on it through college helped me grow into a more mature servant. However, I believe my time at the Bread for the City has helped me deepen my understanding of what it means to stay for tea, especially in terms of safety nets and client choices. My clients have made choices I wouldn't make but also have safety nets with holes larger than I can imagine. Rebecca's comment has stuck with me and helped me understand my clients, especially as I understand their past and who they are as individuals. While I think that I might make different choices if given the opportunity, I know that I must allow my clients to make their own choices, and accept the choices they make.

Coming from a middle class background with a thick full safety net, I think this is something I'll continue to reflect on this year. Hopefully this reflection and action will help me better accompany my clients, housemates, co-workers, family, and friends this year...