It was almost 80 F this morning and I was sweating myself out as I walked uphill to my office from my bus station. I really wanted to call rideshare. I really did. But then I thought about how the temperature will keep going up, and how horrible it would be for other less fortunate people. Those who live without AC or proper housing. Those who live in the streets.
I choose to walk instead. This is me in solidarity with those people, I thought. Not unlike those who carry the cross on Easter procession, this is me acknowledging and being a part of my brothers' and sisters' despairs.
Which is a load of bullsh--.
I was using a nice umbrella and a pair of designer prescription sunglasses. My backpack contained all the yummy things for breakfast and lunch. I will have the cold, blissful AC and icy water to drink from once I arrived at work. I will come home to a comfy bed and a safe house to rest my so-called weary soul. And if, God forbid, something happened in between, I will have ways to escape and find safety.
I am fortunate. I am privileged. I am blessed.
Someone once replied to the accusations of people abusing drugs using welfare money with "Of course they are. What else can they do?" It was life-changing for me. What would you do if the world seems against you, if living is a constant pain, if the future is an abstract concept? What would you do if you don't have hope and you can't even dream?
We become reckless and selfish. We take and take and take. We exhaust every possible way to gain control, to escape from the world that does not welcome us. Drugs, alcohol, bad decisions. Anything to numb our pain, anything to feel something else other than what a worthless life we have.
Yet as the heat beat down the streets of Los Angeles, we, these people, are nothing but numbers. Those who are unfortunate. Those who made bad decisions. Those who invariably will get very, very hurt as the summer heat rose with little to no help available for them.
We failed them. One can argue that there's no way to prevent someone from making less-than-stellar decisions or seemingly refusing to better themselves, but options should be available. If we found ourselves where we are unable to hope or dream, or to see anything past the next day, is it really a life worth living?
I am here, comfortably sheltered from the heat, thanks to the privileges I carried. My ability to hope and dream, and my problem-solving skill, are all thanks to where and to who I was born. And with that, so do many of the people around me. We grow exponentially in this lush soil of a garden, making it the most wondrous yet.
I want the same thing from the world beyond this garden. Where one must survive through cracks in the concrete, vying for the last polluted drop of water, and toughen oneself after the inevitable crush by unwary feet over and over again. I want them to have lush soil too for them to grow. A place to hope and dream and bloom to their best potential.
Because they are not pests. They are not weed. They are not invasive or ugly or have poor outcomes or are useless. They are beautiful, and they deserve the same chance we are. They deserve to be sheltered from this relentless heat. It is time for us to grow our garden properly.
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