So I got onto the 1R bus today to meet Melyxxa for lunch. And as I was looking for an empty seat on the bus I contemplated sitting next to this little boy, his younger brother and what I assume to be their mother. The bus started moving so I decided to just sit in the open spot in that part of the bus where the family was sitting.
I couldn't help but take a picture and write about what I was seeing and how I felt at that particular moment. I was having some sort of epiphany or realization about my family or something..im not really sure..
But as the bus left Ashby I couldn't help but notice how tired and exhausted the three of them were. I felt the fatigue in their body language but the tirelessness and persistence in their energy. The mother and younger brother were fast asleep, their heads bobbling with every stop and go, every bump in the road. But right next to me was the older brother, definitely no more than 5 or 6 years old, wide awake, looking out of the window, his face so innocent. I couldn't help but notice that there was no father figure in sight. Something oh-so-familiar to many matriarchic cultures like that found in the Philippines (pre-Spanish colonization) and presumably Mexico and other indigenous cultures that give power to their womyn.
For some reason I caught myself staring at the little boy right next to me as he dangled his feet over his seat, they hung 10 inches short of reaching the floor of the bus. Although this boy was no more than 6 years old I could feel the invisible protective shield that he held around his family as he watched them as they slept.
I was so amazed by this little boy and I could only imagine how much of a role he actually played in his family, for his mother, for his younger brother and for his father? and at such a young age I couldn't help but sympathize for the boy and the many other boys, who've grown up to be men, who have had to assume this role in their families, to be the supposed father figure, the breadwinner, the translator, the negotiator, the emotional support, the facilitator, the never ending source of glue that keeps the family together.
For the moment that I was on the bus with this boy I felt so connected, connected to him, to his struggle, to his family, to what ever he was feeling and thinking about at that unique moment. For whatever reason, I started thinking about the boy's future. Maybe he'd grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, a professor, a firefighter, a counselor, the first in his family to go to college and graduate, the person who cures cancer, the next person to receive the noble peace prize, the person to solve our world's economic problems or even our never-ending problems within public education. I saw this kid's potential to be so many amazing things but at the same time I saw the 'glass ceiling' getting thicker and thicker right above him. His potential became more and more blurred in my mind.
But amidst the other things that I couldn't help but think about at that moment I couldn't help but think about Ruben (and the many other men in my life that have gone or are currently going through similar life and family circumstances) and the big role that he takes on for his family. Ruben, in so many ways, was this little boy, wide-eyed and innocent yet ready to take on the world but at the very same time is very selfless with his love, attention, energy, time, patience..and although this may not seem like a bad thing from the outside..what happens when Ruben is in need? Do people give Ruben the same attention that he gives out? Being selfish with one's own time is never a bad thing (on the inside) if it means taking care of ones' own mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. It's about making sure that one can serve their communities in the best and most healthiest ways possible for them and the people they love.
I've seen too many organizers burn out from constantly runnin' on a fixed path of disillusionment from the movement, the revolution, 'community service', fake social justice..the list goes on. and yes it's true that sometimes we need to lose ourselves (and the people closest to us) in the movement to realize that we've forgotten what's most important to us..and maybe when we find ourselves alone, blindly fighting for a cause, with people we don't really care about, will we realize that it wasn't worth compromising what we truly believe in, who we are as people, our values, our friends, our relationships, our academics, the fake 'progress' that we are supposedly making and maybe even our sanity..
It is indeed hard to negotiate between what is really important in life and what may seem to be important in life. And most of the time, it takes completely losing ourselves in the process to realize that what we have right in front of us is more than we can ever ask for. I know this because I've gone through this myself, many a times. I've found myself completely lost in the movement..not knowing where I am or what will come next and losing friends and loved ones in the process. And even after all of that, I still find myself needing and wanting to rebuild those bridges, bridges that may never again be rebuilt.
If I could give this little kid, sitting right next to me, two pieces of advice, I would tell him to
1) never compromise who he is for anyone or anything else..and
2) love like there's no tomorrow.
i wish you would just give up the world for me..so that i can fight the world with you..
