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.

A Loan of Hope – The Interim Disability Program

It is almost Thanksgiving, a time for reflecting with close family and friends. Our reflections center on what we are thankful for, especially as we look on our many blessings over this past year.

One specific District program that is especially important to me is the Interim Disability Assistance (IDA) Program. IDA provides a small ($270) income each month to residents waiting the long months (even years) between their initial disability application and approval from the Social Security Administration. Clients I worked with applying for disability are unable to work, and thus depend on this program to have their basic necessities met. What is even better about this program is that the Social Security Administration repays the District government when a client receives a favorable decision.

When a special client of mine, Mr. S., was approved for his disability income after seeking legal representation at Bread for the City, he explained to me how crucial IDA had been to his stabilization. Chronically homeless and suffering from a long litany of impairments ranging from HIV to chronic leg pain to severe depression, IDA provided a “loan of hope” to Mr. S. He was proud to say that he was able to repay that loan, allowing someone else to have hope as they waited for their disability decision.

Another story that sticks with me is Anthony Brown, who was interviewed for Beyond Bread this spring when the Council made $6 million in cuts to the program.

Our city has already cut $100 million from the safety net programs that people like Anthony depend on. Rather than more cuts, let’s ask more of those who have suffered the least in the recession. Right now, DC’s top tax rate (8.5%) starts at $40,000 a year. An increase of one percentage point in the rate on the highest-earning 5% (those with income above $200,000) would bring in at least $65 million in new revenue. It’s a small contribution for high-income households, roughly equal to the price of a large coffee each day.

As you reflect on what you’re thankful for, take some time to consider what changes you would make in your budget, to ensure our city can invest in an economic recovery that includes everyone.

If you care about this issue, send an email to Chairman Gray and ask him to take a balanced approach and protect the programs you care about.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving together with our family and friends, I know I’ll be holding Bread for the City, Mr. S. and Anthony Brown, the IDA Program, and the SOS campaign close to my heart. I am thankful for IDA’s impact on the residents of DC, and for the ways Mr. S, Bread, and the SOS campaign had blessed me this year.

Searching for Meaning

I treasure those moments when you are reading for school and you suddenly find yourself captivated by the author’s reflections. Indeed, this was the ongoing experience I had when reading Jerome Baggett’s book, Sense of the Faithful, documenting how American Catholics today are living and negotiating their faith. In his rich ethnographic portrayal, Baggett eloquently describes the many ways Catholics are taking their faith seriously and grappling with the realities of a complex world. Particularly resonating to me was the following quote:

Though we may have lost the strongly prescribed identities that largely characterized tightly bounded societies of the past, in their place has emerged a generalized concern for individual authenticity. This language of authenticity reflects people’s still unextinguished desire to do the often difficult work of discovering a sense of meaningfulness that is now not so readily attainable (65).

Yes, it is difficult to discover a sense of meaningfulness, but it is inscribed on our hearts and offers us fulfillment and joy. It is this sense of meaningfulness that I crave in my own life – in my relationships, in my work, in my faith, and in my daily desire to follow God. It truly is an unextinguished desire for me.

As a former Jesuit Volunteer, I have spent time in the past reflecting on the writings of Dorothy Day, specifically from her book, The Long Loneliness. In her book, at the end, she writes, “We have all know the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”

I think that we find our sense of meaningfulness when we have a strong sense of community, one that strives to teach us authenticity. For, it is true, we learn how to love in community¸ and we are able to search for meaning. When I think back on my experiences – my faith-filled loving family, my still treasured friends from high school, the memories and community I experienced through Gonzaga University and the relationships I still hold, my experience with JVC in the District of Columbia, and now, here at Loyola Chicago, I can’t helped but think that Day is right – community has taught me what it means to love, and has made the “difficult work of discovering a sense of meaningfulness” that much easier.

It’s funny when you’re working on that slow literature review, when you’re looking out your window drinking your morning cup of coffee in the midst of our daily lives as graduate students, and you are suddenly struck by a passage from the literature you are reading. No – it’s not just relevant literature for your research proposal, but rather, it’s nurturing for your own self growth. It’s an affirmation of that Jesuit phrase that is etched into any Jesuit alumni’s heart, that yes, you can find God in all things. And it’s a reminder to continue to trust in God, and to continue sipping that cup of coffee, working on that literature proposal, know to always, as Teihard de Chardin, S.J. reminds us,

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

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Works Cited

Baggett, Jerome P. 2009. Sense of the Faithful: How American Catholics Live Their Faith. New York: Oxford University Press.

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.

The American Flag - A Cultural Object

In my Religion, Political Culture, and Ideology course, we began class with a reading by Wendy Griswold, attempting to define what culture is. Culture is such a vague term – people often think they know it when they see it or experience it, but struggle to give any formal definition of it. Griswold notes that there are different types of culture in society, and that elements of culture are expressed through cultural objects – objects in society that we assign meaning to. Culture becomes culture when we (as a group) assign some meaning to the object.

Griswold also states that cultural objects can have different meanings to different groups of people. This Labor Day, I point to the American flag as a symbol that, even in my own extended family, holds many different meanings.

Growing up in a relatively conservative active military family, the American flag served as a symbol of sacrifice and freedom, of democracy and of rights. The American flag was (and is) venerated by many family members as a tangible cultural object, one that stands for the many wars that have provided our citizens freedom. It is a cultural object that must be respected, for it in many ways represents so many values of American society.

I found myself at Mass today feeling cynical about this cultural symbol. It’s true – I haven’t always been the most patriotic in the same sense as this familial veneration of the flag. Singing “America the Beautiful” in a wealthy part of South Chicago, just minutes from a center of Chicago’s cyclical poverty and violence, images of my JVC experience reappeared in my mind. Can I really hold the same meaning that my fellow family members hold of the American flag when I see cyclical poverty and institutional racism so rampant in our society?

Being a patriot means being loyal to one’s country, being willing to serve one’s country. I believe I am a patriot in a different definition of the word. I’m willing and ready to serve my country, but that means domestically – serving those who are in need, fighting inequality in our institutions, speaking up about injustice in my conversations with family and friends. I believe this is another way of being loyal to one’s country – being loyal to people in the country society forgets to acknowledge as human.

When listening to the song today, when discussing my views of society, and when seeing the American flag, I held a different meaning of this cultural object. Instead of a testament to freedom, democracy, and sacrifice, I saw a country of irony, of segregation, of inequality, and of ignorance. When singing the words, “God shed His Grace on Thee,” I felt a mix of frustration and of humility. In many ways, we are dependent on God’s grace, and could use so much more trust and patience in this fight for equality and justice.

And perhaps, I too am the “Thee” in that verse. For I need just as much grace as our country. I recognize that it has taken me many years to understand the world and our country the way I do. I need that grace now to be humble, to be compassionate, to be patient, to be open, and to stop judging other views of the United States. For it is true – there has been much sacrifice for the luxuries I enjoy.

So as I continue on through school, I know that elements of cynicism will reemerge and challenge me. But – I must continue to return to God, asking for His Grace to be shed on me, and perhaps I will be able to stop judging and continue working for social justice.

It will only be by the grace of God.