Flashback: A Reflection on My Days as a Collegiate "Activist"

In a previous post, I mentioned how, while taking on a recent roadie to a media presentation on Darfur, I could not help but be saddened by the memory of a past self I had forgotten. To clarify, there was a time that I thought I mildly, socially inept, English major could make a little difference in the world, and how at some point, I lost that sense of myself... at least as to its application to the world outside my window.

While an undergraduate English major at a local state college, I, along with some fellow students, and under the mentorship of a beloved English professor, began organizing a campus Amnesty International (AI) chapter. For those who are unfamiliar, AI is a letter writing organization in which members seek to promote social justice through participation in letter witting campaigns. At least that's how it used to work--I've been out of this particular loop for a while.

Watching the DARFUR/DARFUR exhibit, I remembered how I used to meet with four to six peers and together we would write letters to governments and officials around the world, in an effort to help fight for the human rights of peoples and political prisoners. Each week I would receive two to three Human Right Updates via snail mail(!). Upon receipt, I would carefully log the name and location of the person for whom we would be writing, before traipsing to the meeting room in the lower level of the campus student union. In some way, I felt I was playing a role in the bigger picture... you know, the whole "power of the pen" thing.

Sadly, most of the people on who's behalf we were writing were not famous or deemed "important," and as a result, were not covered my the mainstream media. Because of this, they and their tragic circumstances did not really exist in the American mindset.

Now, some twenty years later, I am ashamed to admit that I, too, in some way have forgotten about the fact that these terrible events are occurring, except even now they are closer to my home in the United States. While my recognition of, and disdain for, human rights violations surfaces while watching movies or reading news, I, like most Americans, forget minutes later when the next "important" television show or celebrity sideshow begins. Terrible.

But, rather than wallowing in self-pity, where do I go from here?

Adio, wli nanawalmezi.