Writer As Peace Builder: Dear Friends, Celebrate

So, reflecting on the inspiration I gained from Eleanor Roosevelt’s letters last week, as well as the inspiration that was passed on to all the Americans who read her daily column while she was alive, I was wondering, “What if someone who wasn’t a public figure wrote letters like that to the public? Would they still be an agent for social change? Would anyone really care?”

I’ve decided that it may take longer for people to become interested in such letters in a newspaper. More time would have to be spent establishing yourself as a person who could be trusted, a friend, an average run-of-the-mill person (although Eleanor did spend a great deal of time setting up this image in her early letters) but I do feel that it could be just as powerful. I myself may not be able to write national letters to the entire country that could make people think, yet still provide hope and a sense of comfort, but I may be able to pull off writing letters in a column for a local Rochester paper or my Ithaca alumni news letter, and most definitely this blog. I think the most important thing to keep in mind is Eleanor’s letters worked because they complimented her actions. People saw her out in the field getting her hands dirty, these made her words easier to trust and enjoy. The lesson of the week seems to be: one’s writing has the power to change the world, but it is even more possible for their words to change others when they compliment great actions.

Before I attempt to write a moving letter to change hearts and mind (:P), I wanted to touch on another thought really quick. I’ve been taking a conflict management class this semester which has empowered me and encouraged me more than any class of my grad school career, and writing to change the world actually fits nicely into one (and I’m sure many) theory of peace building. The theory as it was presented to me by Mary Anderson and Lara Olson in Confronting War: Critical Lessons for Peace Practitioners states that there are many approaches to peace that need to be interconnected. Below is a chart that shows the different approaches to peace building and highlights their interconnectedness. It comes from page 66 of Confronting War.



First, there is peace building that happens on an individual/personal level. This is what I like to refer to as the process of “changing hearts and minds” and “learning to live peace.” This process needs to both happen for large groups of individual citizens (people at the grassroots level) and within the hearts and minds of key people. These would be the people capable of making policy changes (politicians) and establishing new cultural norms (the media, role models, elders, ect). Once these individuals have a new understanding of peace and justice, their individual transformation is taken into the public sphere. This is where those new policies and cultural norms are set into action. Of course, even when the social political level is being transformed, time and energy still has to be placed individual change efforts. Some people haven’t been reached as the overall culture is being transformed and have the ability to disrupt new policy and social norms. Others have been reached but need support and reassurance to hold on to the lessons learned from personal transformations.

But where does “writing to change the world” come in? It is part of that personal level of transformation. It creates an understanding of shared humanity at the very least, and captures the true essence of peace and justice and, at its very best. And if the message finds the right hands, it can lead to social/political transformation. If it finds the wrong hands, it can be distorted and used against its original call. (I can’t help but think of the Bible and the Qur’an here.) Peace literature—writing that can change the world—is threatening, dangerous, but it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be attempted.

I like this thought of the author as peace builder. The letter below probably won’t be worthy of that title, but it’s worth a try. As I learned in undergrad, write a lot because most of it will be garbage a writing a lot improves your odds of a finding something useable, but not necessarily good.

Dear Friends,

The other night, I went to bed thinking ferociously. “Should’ves”, “Would’ves”, “Could’ves” bombarded me from every angle it seemed. I couldn’t stop the stream of judgments and unresolved issues rushing through me. I couldn’t help but think how useless it was to be spending these two years in grad school when I could actually be out doing something. I kept thinking about how unfair my sister’s life is at the moment, living in a house with no electricity or insulation, working at the casino on the reservation from 3am-8am because there is nothing else that pays and no one around to show her how to dream. I kept thinking about issues we are all dealing with in our classes her at school; how it feels like the moment I came into grad school I stopped being a person with experiences and understandings and became just a student that needs to be filled with knowledge. For the most part we are often bodies in a classroom, sometimes when time was permitted we have the chance to become people again. The professor are just professors, researchers, the appear distant. The system has taken away part of their humanity as well. I thought about how as students we’ve tried to address this, but have been told we are over exaggerating, told that there is nothing wrong, and that we should be worrying about people with real problems.

So, again my brain began to worry about people with “real” problems. I thought about my kids back in Rochester. I thought about their classmates and friends. Many of them are seniors. I wondered how many were going to graduate. I wondered how many parents would show up. I wondered how many were going to be able to afford to go on to school. I wondered how many were encouraged to even try to apply. I was overwhelmed by structural violence, and being pretty violent towards myself because “I wasn’t doing enough.”

This experience lasted for much too long, but began to end when I consciously said to myself, “Brandi, breathe. Let it go. Release it all and let your whole body be filled with Love.”

It was a struggle and I didn’t even successfully let go of everything, but the stream of thoughts became controllable and began to calm its movements. I found myself able t breathe again, and felt hints of the love and beauty that I know is always there waiting to be noticed and embodied. And I heard a voice say, “You are much too hard on yourself. There is always room for improvement, but you are doing great things. Celebrate that. Celebrate!”

The voice was so reassuring that I finally fell asleep.

Anyone working for social justice, for peace, or for others has experienced that nighttime panic. That list of regrets. That list of things still yet to do. For many it’s a regular occurrence, but why don’t more of us go to bed celebrating? And more importantly how can we really understand peace, social justice, or love when we don’t take the time to see it, or celebrate it? When we only see what is still yet to be done?

A wonderful documentary that I watched about a year ago at the Student Peace Alliance Conference in D.C. called Soldiers of Peace focuses on the presence of peace and love that is present in some of the most violent societies in the world places, like Columbia and Liberia. It shows that peace is always out there to grasp no matter where you are. You just have to recognize its seedlings, the energy of good will, love, hope, excitement, and compassion, and help it to manifest itself into something powerful that can be experienced by many at once.

The next morning, I woke up and walked an hour to work, and made the conscious
decision to look for social “issues” to celebrate on my way. I saw a school bus pick up a man for work. He wasn’t outside, but the bus didn’t drive away. The driver pulled over and honked the horn. The man ran out in a hurry, frazzled, but the driver smiled and said, “Good morning.”

I saw two young mothers standing at the bus stop with their 6 year old daughters, all for were giggling. I thought how rare to see parents at the bus stop with their kids? How wonderful!

I saw a man sorting his recycling on the curb. He waved.

I saw an older woman working in her garden. She had the most beautiful tulips near her porch. It made the small area on the street look a little more inviting and full of life.

I had three or four men respectfully say “Good morning” and “God bless.” And when I got to work the security guard gave me a friendly good morning, and I started my day.

Sure, there were things that I saw in that hour that weren’t as beautiful. But I chose to spend more of my energy celebrating that day. Everyone should spend more time celebrating the peace, providing energy for it to manifest itself even more. I, myself, will encourage the good. I will give it attention and praise. I won’t ignore the bad, of course. But I will find balance in my life.

Love,
Brandi