SheLoves Magazine

ShePonders: Pharaoh, Gaddafi, Dictators and Other Bullies

“We are invited to be Moses–standing at the burning bush and accepting a divine summons to advocate for justice in the face of Pharaoh.”
By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

<<<Pharaoh>>>

Click on the link above to Listen to Kelley, sharing this month’s ShePonders: Pharaoh

When we first encounter Pharaoh, he is ruling over Egypt. He is powerful. But we learn he’s also a bit fearful; he has many sleepless nights and bad dreams. With the help of a Hebrew named Joseph, Pharaoh secures all the livestock, land and labor for the economic engine of the empire. He becomes a harsh taskmaster, exploiting those who are already exhausted and endangered.

We witness Pharaoh’s interactions with Moses and see that he is, indeed, hard-hearted. Despite God’s demand, Pharaoh will not let the people go. Pharaoh sought to oppress, control and monopolize everything and everyone–even the God of the Hebrews.

In today’s vernacular my son would call him a bully; on the world’s stage he would be described as a dictator.

The other day I saw the breaking news: Gaddafi had been captured. He is dead. I saw the graphic photos of his bloodied face, his listless body on the back of a pick-up truck. Then he was laid in a meatlocker alongside his son (like a scene out of the Old Testament), so the people could come close and testify to his ultimate dead end. Now he is buried in an undisclosed location under the sands of Libya.

He really is gone.

I confess I was somewhat fixated on these images. I was glad he was finally gone, yes, but I was not celebrating his death per se, but his defeat was satisfying to something deep in my soul. It took a few days for me to find the language for it, but I think I have it now.

Gaddafi was another Pharaoh.  He was another in a long string of modern Pharaohs–Hosni Mubarak, Saddam Hussein, Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Ferdinand Marcos … And like all of them, he has been toppled. These oppressive regimes lasted too long on earth. These men took what was not theirs-–livestock, land, labor and lives. They trampled on human dignity, behaving as animals–a certain affront to God, who still cries out, “Let my people go!” But they shared in Pharaoh’s hard-heartedness and would not offer mercy or release, and they met their ultimate end.

TIME magazine’s TOP 15 Toppled Dictators

Our God still hears the cries of the oppressed the world over. God continues to act in liberating ways, bringing freedom, justice and deliverance from Pharaoh. God’s campaign against Pharaoh is alive and well. He demonstrates that He and His Kingdom are the alternative to life under such a regime, and He says “No” to all Pharaoh stands for.

But it is not just Pharaoh or those like him–there are also pharaonic forces at work in the world.  Paul called them “principalities and powers.” Any force that oppresses and exploits. Any force that runs contrary to God’s agenda of liberation and love is yet another manifestation of Pharaoh. Think: slavery, greed, consumerism, scarcity, violence … all are pharaonic forces that invade not only countries but the territory of our own hearts.

Symbol of Oppression

And this is how the Bible works with these powerful symbols. It is Pharaoh, but also more than just one singular Egyptian ruler in an ancient narrative. Pharaoh becomes a symbol for any oppression at work in the world, so that every instance of an oppression-liberation event is a new dealing with Pharaoh.  We continue to enact the Biblical story. We are invited to be Moses–standing at the burning bush and accepting a divine summons to advocate for justice in the face of Pharaoh. We are called to be freedom-givers, ones sensitive to local and global, personal and public crises, ones who put God’s loving power into play.

Staring at the horrific picture of Moammar Gaddafi’s end triggered something inside of me. Looking at him reminded me of all the other dictators who fell. I witnessed the truth that all oppressive regimes do crumble. No tyrant reigns forever. Pharaoh always meets his ultimate end.

I was not celebrating the death of Gaddafi, but rather the dethronement of Pharaoh. My satisfaction was rooted in seeing another Pharaoh dethroned and defeated. It made me think of the others I want to see gone and the other paraonic forces I want to dethrone in my own life and lifetime. This picture of dethronement gave me hope that other Pharaohs can be deposed and that liberation still comes.

Jubilation

When Pharaoh is dethroned, jubilation breaks out like dancing across the Red Sea, like celebrating in Tahrir Square, like fireworks over Libya. And each dethronement is an enthronement of our God who reigns with justice, goodness and love.

About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

Image credit: Many hands, by Julia Freeman-Woolpert

Because of a Little Love: The Story of Beatrice and Agnes

Beatrice needed more than facial reconstructive surgery. She needed Agnes to remind her she is loved.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

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©Fakeleft. Quote by Mother Teresa.

I am thinking about loneliness this week. Mother Teresa, a woman who witnessed extreme poverty and disease, believed that being unloved, rejected and lonely is a form of poverty.

She said: “We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love.”

A Little Love

When James and I heard of the opportunity to film a girl who had just undergone reconstructive surgery we jumped at the opportunity. It was the last footage we needed to complete the production of a short video for Living Hope that we’ve been working on and we were eager to begin piecing the final story together.

So we set off early one morning with a Living Hope team leader. She informed us that the girl we were filming would be returning to her home in Gulu soon. We were excited for her because we figured she was probably anxious to return to her family.

Meet Beatrice

To protect her identity, I’ll call her Beatrice. Beatrice is about fifteen years old. She had undergone two surgical procedures in a week and was recovering at a Watoto village near Kampala. A cheerful and loving Living Hope graduate named Agnes was caring for her. She had been trained to nurse reconstructive surgery patients after their operation and had spent a week nursing Beatrice. When we met them you could tell they had become increasingly attached to each other. Agnes would hug Beatrice and fix the scarf around her neck. She would wipe Beatrice’s chin when spittle would trickle from her healing lips.

The stitches around her lips made it difficult for Beatrice to speak, so Agnes shared with us the details of Beatrice’ story. Beatrice had not experienced war injuries but she had been born with a cleft lip and palate and this had profoundly damaged her quality of life.

Reassurance

As Agnes spoke, Beatrice stared blankly at the ground. She seemed shy and even a little scared. Agnes pulled her close. She caressed her head and whispered a few words to her in Acholi, their local language. Beatrice smiled and appeared reassured.

After listening to her story, we explained the purpose of the video we were working on. We pulled out the reflectors, set up the tripod, opened some windows and began directing.

As we filmed, the Living Hope team leader and Agnes spoke to Beatrice making her feel at ease. But after a few minutes of shooting, she suddenly began to cry. We immediately stopped. We thought maybe we had approached her insensitively and briefing her had not been enough. Maybe she needed a little encouragement. I immediately asked the team leader to translate for me, but after a few minutes the team leader interrupted me to tell me that we weren’t the reason she was crying.

Phew, I thought at first. But then she explained that Beatrice was crying, because while we were shooting, she was told she would soon be returning home and this was harrowing news to her.

Going Home

Beatrice’s community associated her birth deformity with witchcraft. So when she was born, her mother gave her the Acholi name for “the cursed one.” Her mother abandoned her when she was young and her grandmother who is raising her, mistreats her. Even though she goes to school and has a home to sleep in, Beatrice didn’t grow up experiencing kindness and care.

And yet she seemed like such an innocent child. She had a shy smile and a sweet and gentle demeanor. For the last week Agnes had treated Beatrice like a daughter. She didn’t just nurse her wounds, she nurtured her heart.

Later that day Beatrice was transported to a recuperation center in Gulu and I thought I’d never see her again. But a week later James and I traveled to Gulu and while we were there, we visited the Living Hope recuperation center where women recover from their reconstructive surgeries or are prepared for their upcoming procedures.

Flourishing

As we pulled into the driveway and parked our car, we spotted Beatrice. When she recognized us, she sprinted towards us. And as soon as I was out of the car, she gave me a huge hug, her healing lips quivering as she tried to contain her smile. It was as if her experience with Agnes had unlocked something inside her and this was allowing her to flourish. I like to believe that the care and love she experienced will give her the hope she needs to persevere through difficult times. I can’t be certain what is going to happen to Beatrice, but my brief encounter with her has reminded me that sometimes the simplest, most uncomplicated acts of love and service–the type that Agnes demonstrated towards Beatrice by simply being there for her and treating her with dignity–can bring healing to people in ways that can surprise us.

I know a person can’t subsist solely on love, but love feeds hearts and helps people flourish. Love and acceptance can help a person conquer her fears and reach her potential.

We all experience pain, but there are so many people in this world who are hurting alone. There are people out there who are seldom noticed and are isolated from their community. As I was thinking about Beatrice and many others like her, this documentary, A Way Out, came to mind:

A Way Out – documentary (2010) from Noora Shalaby on Vimeo.

I am reminded of the impact Love has on a person and how we should never take an encouraging word, a squeeze of the hand or an embrace for granted.
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So, beautiful SheLoves friends, what are your thoughts?

• What speaks to you in this post?
• Have you experienced or witnessed the impact that a simple act of love can have on a person?

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

Our Lives to Fight For: Students Advocate for the Abolition of Prostitution

“If you stop talking and pay attention, racially and economically marginalized women are telling us very clearly that they do not want their daughters, sisters, aunts, or mothers bought and sold by men.”

By Alexandra Mackenzie | Twitter: @OLTFF
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In my fourth year at Simon Fraser University–last year–I took class with an amazing professor who gave us an assignment to create a campaign about a social issue. Nine other women and I chose to create a documentary with an abolitionist perspective on prostitution and trafficking in Canada. We called it: Our Lives to Fight For.

Our film focuses on interviews with activists fighting to end the sexual exploitation of women and girls. However, what started as a simple school project grew into something I believe changed my life. I’d like to share with you what it taught me about advocating for human rights.

You can watch it here:

Our Lives To Fight For from M on Vimeo.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Prostitution is violence against women and a direct deterrent to gender equality. It may be the most normalized human rights violation in existence. Systemic inequalities such as sexism, poverty, abuse, racism, and trafficking coerce our most marginalized women and children into the sex trade. Realizing this taught me to examine my own privilege. But this is about more than just realizing that I am lucky to be white and middle class in Canada. Examining one’s privilege is really about LISTENING. I believe that, as a society, we have failed to listen and as a result we have abandoned our most vulnerable citizens.

In Canada, Aboriginal women are strongly overrepresented in street prostitution, while impoverished women from Asia are trafficked into brothels and massage parlours. When you look at the back of newspapers such as The Georgia Straight, you can see women blatantly advertised to men based on their age, ethnicity, body type, etc. Patriarchal ideologies are so entrenched in our beliefs that we have ceased to even question this and often even frame it as an issue of choice and empowerment.

While there are a very small amount of middle class women who “choose” prostitution, laws are only effective if they protect the most vulnerable and marginalized. This is why legalizing prostitution does not work. In countries, like the Netherlands, where prostitution has been legalized, sex trafficking has increased exponentially. Illegal brothels outnumber the legal ones and disadvantaged women and children are not safer from johns, pimps or traffickers. Most importantly legalization normalizes the male demand for paid sex.

However, if you stop talking and pay attention, racially and economically marginalized women are telling us very clearly that they do not want their daughters, sisters, aunts, or mothers bought and sold by men. These are the voices that we need to place at the forefront of the prostitution debate. Laws surrounding prostitution need to protect the equality, freedom and human dignity of our most disadvantaged women and children. Not the rights of the few privileged women “choosing” prostitution and certainly not the rights of pimps, traffickers and johns.

Realizing my own privilege also taught me that we all have a human obligation to speak out about violence against women. In the past I was too anxious to speak in public or even let anyone read something I had written. While I still have much room for improvement in these areas, I now force myself to speak out and write regardless. Because it simply isn’t about my pride, embarrassment or anxiety, it’s about the women and children who are have been raped, beaten, abused, and degraded because of the male demand for paid sex.

Lastly I want to address the often used excuse for allowing prostitution to continue: “We will never get rid of prostitution, it’s the oldest profession, so we should just accept it”. One of my personal heroes, Trisha Baptie, says: “Abolition as a movement is about dreaming BIGGER. I don’t think people have dreamed as big as full equality.”

We need to envision and work towards a Canada in which no women or child is for sale. We need to demand better from our government and those around us. We need to start listening. There is no other alternative. As I type this, prostituted women will be murdered, beaten, raped, degraded, and dehumanized. We simply do not have time to wait any longer.

“You, a well-trained person, can stand with the abuser or with the rebel, the resister, the revolutionary. You can stand with the sister he is doing it to; and if you are very brave you can try to stand between them so that he has to get through you to get to her. That, by the way, is the meaning of the often misused word ‘choice.’ These are choices. I am asking you to make a choice.” –Andrea Dworkin, 1993

For more information please check out our documentary at www.ourlivestofightfor.wordpress.com.

UPCOMING EVENT: Next Wednesday, Oct. 5, we’ll have a viewing of the film, Our Lives to Fight For, followed by a discussion at the SFU Surrey campus from 7-9pm. Come and learn about the Nordic model of Prostitution law, abolition and why this is crucial for our Canadian women.

About Alexandra:

Alexandra Mackenzie recently graduated from Simon Fraser University with a degree in Communications. She is one of the co-founders of Our Lives to Fight For, a small SFU student group advocating for the abolition of prositution. She hopes to become a human rights lawyer.

Getting Real with Trisha: On Sweden and Experiencing the Effects of the Nordic Model of Prostitution Law

Thoughts and observations from a society where women and girls are not for sale.

By Trisha Baptie | Twitter: @trisha_baptie
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“We had an art show/contest with 200 pieces of art. There was a equal amount of men and women represented and no one knew who had painted what. There were no names on the art and the top 50 pieces were to be picked and put on long-term display. We were surprised by the findings: of the fifty picked, forty were from men. Which suggested what many thought; men were in fact better at art. Or, did it mean something different? Did it mean that men had created the filter in which we judged what ‘good art’ was and that was in fact what needed to be changed.” –Mr. Claes Borgstrom, former Gender Equality Ombudsman, Sweden.

This is the story Claes Borgstrom started his portion of a presentation I was a part of last week in Stockholm. I was part of a two-day program put on by the Swedish Institute for international journalists that looked at the Swedish model of prostitution law and combating human trafficking.

It was a jam-packed two days that representatives from the National Police Board, Prostitution Unit (exiting services), Council of the Baltic Sea States, Former Gender Equality Minister and others presented to us. I recorded the whole two days and will be putting together audio clips together in the coming weeks. What spoke to me the most about society in Sweden, however, were the Swedes themselves.

The Impact of Gender Equality

I acknowledge that being in a major city like Stockholm, I did not see how smaller towns fared, and only being there for about a week I only scratched the surface on all the issues. That said, I was intentional about talking to a wide variety of residents about the laws and culture–like talking to some high school students about what they thought of their country’s laws. I must say what struck me about the young women was their confidence … the fact not one wore a stitch of make-up. In fact, I noticed that throughout my whole time there. I will right here interject some general statements about my observances on my time there, remembering I was in Government offices a good majority of the time, went grocery shopping, ate out, interacted on transit and such.

Women don’t wear make up. Not even kidding. What I noticed more was when women were in fact wearing it.

Heels, or rather the current trend of stilettos that have women from all walks of life and professions here in North America cramming our tender tootsies into them … women don’t wear them there. Again, I could count the number of women wearing stilettos. Once relegated to the uniform of prostituted women, sometimes it seems like all women are “required” to wear them now.

European women are known for their fashion sense. Swedish women are no different. What surprised me about their wonderful fashion sense was not what they wore, but how much material was involved with their clothing.

Was it because of the adverts they saw?

A friend noticed a gym advertisement portraying a woman in real gym clothing, lifting weights as one would in a work-out. Not one thing about that ad was hypersexualized. In fact, it seemed cars, food, liquor, gym memberships, cell phone providers, etc, often had women in their ads, but not any more than men. Still, it was not women’s sexuality that was selling the product. Rather the product seemed to sell itself, the models were just in the ad to hold it up or point it out. It was not the commodification of women’s bodies that sold the item.

I saw rows and rows of magazines and although they were complete gibberish to this non-Swedish speaker, the pictures spoke volumes. It was not rows of perfect bodies in too tight clothing that pushed the cleavage boundary. It was rows of women, some recognizably famous, other not so, but the common theme was their average and non-manicured beauty.

When talking to the high school students, they were baffled at the thought of their male counter parts watching porn, or treating them like some rap videos teach our boys to treat girls. Does flirting happen? Yup. Does teenage sex happen? Yup. What they did know though is that prostitution is self-harm. Not even kidding. That is what they themselves called it–and taught me. It’s self-harm. Prostitution is self-harm and men who buy women, well, shame on them.

Shame: Doing Wrong Against Society

That’s a word they use freely in Sweden about men who buy sex. Shame.

I bristled at that at first, but as they talked I realized the shame they mean is the shame that an act carries with it that is in fact a wrong done against all of society. It is a shame that says, “This is wrong. You know it’s wrong and you know why it’s wrong. (It’s against gender equality and is a form of power imbalance and thus a form of violence against women.) And why would you do this horrible thing to vulnerable people?”

It was the shame that changed behavior.

Which is exactly what the Swedish laws on prostitution aimed to do: change behaviors. Lawmakers set out to change the way men see women. Better yet, they changed the filter in which women are viewed.

Core of the Problem

I always thought feminism was about standing up to patriarchy, standing up to men’s entitlement. Legalizing or fully decriminalizing prostitution does not do either of those things. Adopting the Swedish model of law does. It’s the true feminist embodiment of gender equality and is the step Canada must take.

All the systemic reasons women get involved in prostitution are not in fact the core reason. The core–the heart of prostitution–is because of gender inequality. I have to wonder: What other forms of inequality can we end by starting with saying our women and girls are not for sale?

Check out these interesting articles on Swedish society, gender equality and the Nordic model of Prostitution Law:

In Sweden, Men Can Have It All, The New York Times

About Trisha
Trisha Baptie is Executive Director of Honour Consulting and founding member of EVE (formerly Exploited Voices now Educating). In 2008 she won BC’s Courage to Come Back Award for her bravery in transitioning to a healthier lifestyle, for giving the murdered women of Vancouver a voice through her trial coverage of Vancouver’s serial killer and for her ongoing activism. Follow Trisha’s tweets at @trisha_baptie or friend her on facebook. She recently founded EVE (formerly Exploited Voices Now Educating.)

Redefining Beauty and Climbing our Ladder

“Love and acceptance from others helps. They are like hands waving and cheering us on at the top of the well as we climb another step. They may be saying, “You can do it! I believe in you. You are beautiful.”  But we have to make our own way up.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz
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©Watoto. Image by Fakeleft.

Lilian waved vigorously at us and pushed her way through the narrow pathway between each row of busy tailoring machines at the Living Hope Center in Gulu. We were packing our things after capturing some footage, but we stopped in our tracks because Lilian seemed eager to show us something. She opened a notebook she was holding in her hands and pulled out a sheet of paper and with a beaming smile proudly revealed a photocopy of an image we took of her a year ago. A team leader at the Living Hope center had printed out a copy for her.

“Thank you,” she said before being crowded by a group of curious friends who wanted to find out what the brief flurry was all about.

Seeing 

At that moment my heart erupted with joy because Lilian could see in that photograph what we had seen in her all along: a beautiful and strong woman with a radiant smile that kindles a feeling of hope and peace. She was proud of herself and so were we.

Many of the ladies at Living Hope have experienced the worst forms of rejection. The very people who should have shown them grace, love and mercy–their own families–shunned them. The discrimination they experienced carved the word “worthless” into their hearts. Their experience shattered their self-image and so they began to believe that they were not valuable or capable of achieving anything.

I believe a healthy self-image comes, not only when we experience acceptance and love, but also when we learn to accept and love ourselves.

From my experience, people can be fragile and any form of rejection or disapproval is enough to push us into a well of self-doubt where we focus on our imperfections and weaknesses.

When it comes to nurturing a positive self image, I can’t say I have it all figured out, because when it comes to evaluating myself, I am often my worst critic. A bad hair day is enough to make me jump behind a shelf at the supermarket if I see someone I know. I often panic when confronted with a challenge because I feel inadequate and I sometimes avoid gatherings because I’m insecure.

What I’ve learnt from the Living Hope ladies is that getting out of that well of self-doubt and criticism starts within. Love and acceptance from others helps. They are like hands waving and cheering us on at the top of the well as we climb another step. They may be saying, “You can do it! I believe in you. You are beautiful.”  But we have to make our own way up.

Living Hope ladies continue to redefine my concept of self-image and beauty so I don’t reduce myself to one layer, but focus on the whole picture. I am more than just my exterior, more than the mistakes of my past, more than a bad experience or another person’s opinion of me. I am a million different layers.

True Beauty

They remind me that there’s beauty and value in a woman who finds strength and dignity. There is beauty in a woman who is willing to do the hard work, pull up her sleeves, wipe the sweat off her forehead and plough the soil. There’s value when that arduous work finally produces results, her vegetables grow and her business prospers.

There’s beauty and value in a woman who dares to dream; a woman who smiles at her future. A woman who holds on tight to faith and hope.

There’s beauty in a mother’s love. A woman determined to provide for her children and willing to give up anything for them.

There’s value in forgiveness and healing. There’s beauty in acceptance and love, in extending a helping hand and embracing a friend. There’s beauty when a heart breaks for another, in compassion and solidarity.

There’s beauty in praise and celebration, in freedom and confidence. And there’s something beautiful in the quiet reflection and silent understanding that we are beautiful, not because of anything that we’ve done or how we appear, but because that’s how God created us.

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So, beautiful SheLoves friends, what are your thoughts?

• What images come to mind when you hear the words self-image and beauty?
• When you feel like you’ve fallen into a well of self-doubt and criticism, what are some of the things you do to make your way up again?

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

Avoid Paralysis, Confront the Brick

On being a woman without superpowers scaling the often paralyzing walls of Injustice.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Sometimes I look at the world, I witness the chaos that engulfs our everyday lives and I just want to give up. I picture myself packing my bags and catching the next ferry to the Caribbean islands of my Honduran homeland. I find the most isolated beach to work on my tan and sip on a Piña Colada while my husband fans me tirelessly with a palm leaf.

These daydreams are an escape from the realities I witness every day. On my way to work I see young children, some of them not old enough to walk, who have been taught to hold out their hands in the shape of a begging bowl and they sit at the busiest intersections gazing pitifully at those who pass them by. I hear the stories of women who were abducted as children, raped and turned into child soldiers. Or there are those who were forced into a marriage they didn’t choose because they felt they had no other opportunities.

Paralyzing

And it doesn’t matter where I am; being constantly aware of the magnitude of injustice in our world can be paralyzing. Frustration and sadness gradually mount up inside until one day I pick up the local paper and the headlines on the front page are enough to make me want to crawl back into my bed and hide under the covers.

Sometimes my thoughts spiral down to a place of pessimism and guilt. I begin to doubt things can improve. I remove myself from the circle of responsibility that we, as human beings, are a part of and I begin looking at the world as if I’m an outsider, an alien in space.

I don’t often allow myself to arrive at that place, but I have experienced that sensation of hopelessness enough times to understand that I don’t like being there.  As soon as I recognize this descent, I begin to seek the strength I need to get back on positive ground.

Here are a few of the ways I cope:

I absolve myself from any guilt I might feel because of my pessimism. I’ve convinced myself it’s natural to become overwhelmed and therefore there’s no reason for me to punish myself for it. Besides, I’ve realized that guilt can actually stop me from acting.  I think it’s OK to find myself in that place, so long as I don’t stay there too long.

I recognize my need for a break and so I distance myself for a while. I focus on more uplifting things. I surround myself with positive people and constructive opinions. To constantly hear negativity about the same issue can sometimes make me feel like we’ll never defeat that monster, so I begin to focus on people who are experiencing success.

I seek strength in God and I remind myself that it’s not about my strength and capabilities but about His strength and what God can do through us. It’s ok if I feel weak. The Bible says His grace is sufficient for us for His power is made perfect in our weakness. “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12-9 NIV

Finally, I remind myself that nobody is in this battle alone and that the only way to break down these towering walls of injustice is to focus on the brick in front of me. I know there are so many others who are consistently confronting their own bricks, and as each one of us remains faithful I’m certain the walls will start to fall.

I’d love it if you had any comments:

• Do you ever feel discouraged by the magnitude of injustice in our world?
• Do you ever feel like you are losing hope?
• How do you cope with these emotions? Where do you find strength?

About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

The Face of Dignity

An HIV+ woman, once dying, now “stands bold and tall like the Mvule trees that line the streets of Gulu town.” She’s a picture of Living Hope.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

I am continually challenged and completely humbled by the amazing people James and I get to meet through our work. For our most recent project, a book of stories of the women of Living Hope, we’ve had the opportunity to meet many beautiful ladies who have faced great injustice, but whose lives have been restored.

One HIV + woman whose life has dramatically improved since she’s been through the program took what she learned and applied it to her life. As a result her small business is thriving, her personal relationships have improved and she now helps train other women who are in the same situation she was just a few years ago.

Before she joined Living Hope, she was marginalized and abandoned by her friends and family who were certain she had met her end. Some even seemed to be waiting for her to die, so they could claim her few possessions. They were surprised then, when instead of dying, her life gradually began to improve. She gained some weight. Her body and the wounds on her skin began to heal. She learned how to manage her finances and develop her business. She began to flourish as she started to recognize her value.

Picture of Healing

Now, people in her neighborhood who once shunned her, are knocking at her door. They are curious about the change in her life and so they ask her to tell them what has happened to her. She’s become an advisor in her neighborhood. She personifies “living hope” to those who are suffering through difficult circumstances. She was once bedridden, but now she’s been revived and so she’s eager to share her story.

She glows when she thinks of her future. She no longer imagines her destitute children standing around her coffin, mourning her death. She sees a home that she owns, vegetables sprouting from her garden and her children fulfilling their dreams. She’s been empowered; she knows she is worthy. God has a purpose for her life and she is loved.

She has a kind smile that radiates from the heart. She stands bold and tall like the Mvule trees that line the streets of Gulu town. She dances alongside her Living Hope sisters to the sound of their voices in a chorus of celebration.

Listening to these women tell their stories is a deeply moving experience. There is a real pain that lingers in the room when a certain memory is recalled. You can feel it tighten around your throat as the air you breathe in starts to dry the top of your mouth and blood rushes to your cheeks. But this feeling lasts for just a moment until that irrepressible spark returns to the eyes of the women as they contemplate their present situation. The contrast–the sudden change in the atmosphere–is dazzling.

Meeting women who have recently entered the program is a very different experience. An interview with her is like driving down a bumpy road that leads to an impasse. You soon realize unless that road is repaired you can simply drive no further. On our last trip to Gulu we conducted our interviews in a small private room at the Living Hope centre. The day was overcast and the room dull. The door and windows were open to allow the warm breeze through, but there wasn’t much we could do to make the setup not look like an interrogation room.

Long Journey

A girl walked in. The team leader introduced her and assured us she had consented to be interviewed. We learned from her that at just 17 years of age she is pregnant and working to care for her HIV+ mother who is bedridden. She seemed scared. She had a faint voice and a glassy stare fixed on the ground. No matter how much I smiled, she could not return it. The camera was intimidating and our questions stressful. She fidgeted nervously. The atmosphere was tense and painful and it felt like we needed to escape the room for a gasp of air. I felt my heart drop to my feet.

That type of interview can be overwhelming. For a moment it’s hard to believe these ladies can recover from their experiences. I feel angry and hopeless.

It’s hard to believe a woman who was raped by a rebel soldier when she was ten can be radiant when she shares her testimony. Or that a woman whose in-laws chased her and her children out of their home after her husband died, can boldly encourage others not to give up on life.

But I’ve seen the face of dignity and I know that change is possible, because God really wants the best for all of us. I believe God’s returning these women to dignity through people like the dedicated staff at the Living Hope centers in Uganda and Tina and our SheLoves friends in Vancouver who are running alongside their sisters in Africa.

I have to fix my eyes on that, because when I start seeing life through God’s lens, I don’t see impossible circumstances. I see in that scared young girl a flickering light of hope that has the potential to blaze and spread like wildfire. I look forward to seeing her again in a year. I know she’s going to be stronger, maybe even a little optimistic. I can even see her wearing a beaming smile on her face and striding confidently toward her future.

About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

Experiencing Mercy: Many faces to one word

A glimpse of Mercy from the inside out.

By Musu Taylor-Lewis | Twitter: @mercycanada

When Miriam Webster’s Dictionary defines the word “mercy,” it really could have been written to describe Mercy Ministries. These words define everything this residential program for girls struggling with life-controlling issues stands for and could easily be the backdrop for a vision statement. Yet, on a page, in black and white, they are cold descriptions that don’t do justice to exactly what “mercy” really is.

Mer.cy (noun)

1.

a.     Compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one’s power; also lenient or compassionate treatment

2.

a.     A blessing that is an act of divine favour or compassion

b.     A fortunate circumstance

3.

a.     Compassionate treatment of those in distress

Origins

Take the very first definition–”Compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender.” This reminds me of the origins of Mercy Ministries. While Founder Nancy Alcorn was working in a women’s corrections facility in Tennessee, she found herself filled with a yearning to see young women in her charge move beyond behaviour modification and out of the cycles that saw them coming back into the correction system over and over again.

Compassion

Nancy Alcorn had the kind of compassion for the offender that made her discontent with a system that kept them from breaking free of destructive patterns. After working in child protection services and seeing firsthand the roots of abuse and neglect that led many of her charges to the corrections system, she moved to provide an alternative. To make a long journey short, Mercy Ministries was born out of compassion, especially for offenders!

Mercy is a Verb

Over and over again I am finding that, experienced through Mercy Ministries, mercy goes from being a noun to a verb, from concept to an action word. It turns wooden words into beautiful faces, delicate stories and the triumph of compassion over judgement.

Going back to the basics of what “mercy” means, seems like a great place to start in writing about Mercy Ministries for SheLoves magazine. It helps me set the stage for sharing stories of Mercy. Stories, I hope, that will bring alive the textbook definitions of mercy, putting faces and give voice to young women who are truly experiencing mercy through Mercy Ministries.

I trust you will enjoy reading the insights, inspiration and motivation that comes from experiencing a view from the inside of Mercy.

About Musu:

My life is lived out of the calling “to advance Christ-centred work.” I am currently Director of Marketing and Development at Mercy Ministries, working to get the word out about the life-transforming work that takes place here. Prior to my work at Mercy, I directed a Crisis Pregnancy Centre, studied Christianity and Culture at Regent College and co-led women’s programs at my local church. I have four great children and am married to Steven, a gift to me from the Creator.

Fair Trade: The human face of coffee

A.k.a The day I had the best coffee of my life

By Christi Walter

“Honestly,” my classmate said, “if you start to care about stuff like this you have to care about everything: where your shoes or your clothes or your shampoo comes from. You can’t fix everything.”

This was a response to the talk our guest lecturer had just given on fair trade coffee and how we as consumers (especially caffeine-addicted college students) have the power to change things. As a non-profit worker who had devoted his life to working with poor Guatemalan farmers and labourers, he probably would’ve been a little disheartened to hear her comment.

But she wasn’t a bad sort of person. She was just putting into words thoughts I think most of us have: What are we supposed to do? Buy everything fair trade? That’s not realistic. How would we even know how to get the things we need?

Real Question

Well, there are a many resources on the web, including sites like fairtradefoundation.org which lists a number of different fair trade products and the companies that sell them. But I think the question at the heart of these questions is, Does it really matter? How does buying my morning latte fair trade equal changing the world at all?

Actually, it wouldn’t be the first time. Americans banded together and boycotted tea to protest British taxes, and before long they had a republic on their hands. And what about Ghandi and his merry band of peaceful protestors, making their own clothes so they wouldn’t be a part of England’s oppression?

Clearly, there’ve been times when an exciting movement of people changed the world by refusing to buy products that represented bad dealings. Times when what you bought said something about who you are and what you believe.

Trip to Guatemala

During a travel study to Guatemala I had the privilege of seeing this same guest lecturers’ work in action. We got to actually visit a coffee farm that had significantly benefitted from ethical free trade business. The middle-aged farmer gave us a tour of his coffeebean field with his teenage son in tow.

They let us try out some farming techniques and laughed good-naturedly when we pretty much got winded trying to do some of the work they do all day!

We sorted through beans with them and saw with fresh eyes how what a delicate, meticulous process it is, even with the new technology they’ve been able to invest in since going fair trade.

The farmer brought us to his home and we had the opportunity to sit in his smoky, one-room house and watch his wife roast coffee beans over her stove. She was the most calm and composed woman I have ever seen who simultaneously raises her family, runs the home and works for the family business, while also running a side business of creating and selling shoulder bags out of old coffee sacks. I later sat outside drinking the most gorgeous fresh cup of coffee I have ever tasted, while we heard how not only is the family able to make a liveable income (and provide more education for the younger kids) they have been able to grow their business and even expand their small field slightly.

Fair Trade?

Fair trade coffee is simply coffee bought from farmers in disadvantaged parts of the globe at fair prices that will sustain their farms. In the million-dollar coffee industry, the exporters tend to make the majority of the money by trading at severely low prices in developing countries. The Fairtrade Labelling Organisations International (FLO) sets fair trade standards and supports producers, so farmers are empowered and workers are treated fairly. (Here’s an interesting article on Fair Trade Labelling.)

It was almost twilight as we walked through that little village outside Antigua, from the farm to the house. His son slung his arm around his dad and we could see how proud he was of his dad and of the scratch of land they worked side-by-side. I think that’s when we realised that a legacy was starting here; something this man could pass on to his children with a little peace of mind. Something they could live off as a family, not just barely get by on.

Maybe that’s why we should care about fair trade. Because behind that latte is a human being with a story and a family. Because if one of my friends or family members got screwed over and wasn’t being paid fairly for the worth of their product, I would be mad as hell.

So, I’m trying to learn to see coffee farmers in Guatemala or Ethiopia (or anywhere coffee is produced, really) as people I could know.

—>>To learn more about the troubled coffee farming story, try and see the documentary “Black Gold.” If you visit their website www.blackgoldmovie.com, you can calculate where the money from your average cup of coffee goes.

As for me, I don’t know what the next step is. I need to keep educating myself and soak up the wisdom of as many smart and caring people as I can. Also, writing this piece helps, since the moment it goes online I know I can never have a cup of non-fair trade coffee without being a stinkin’ hypocrite!

About Christi:
Christi has a Communications degree from Trinity Western University. She loves stories and feels privileged to have heard some truly incredible ones while interning at Childcare Canada. Christi hopes to figure out how she can best use her gifts to impact the world around her. Her greatest passions are writing and travel. She’s just come back from recent travels in Australia.

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Photo credits: Christi, by Cecilia Flaming

A Poem about Human Trafficking

Your Life is Priceless

[an excerpt]

By Phumzile Zwane

Your Life is Priceless

Your life has no currency

A single rand* is not worth your dignity

Pricing your body cannot define your identity

Avoid affinity and lift your own integrity.

Human figured minds, myopic about their immoral lives

Why they can’t just move away from these shattered lives.

Shipments of humans treated as objects in exchange of a decent life.

Selling minds, selling lives, ripping away dreams.

Their hearts cold,

worth hatred

shifted to their toes

and yet the truth remains untold.

Equal in brain that drains, the pains running through their veins

This is a new generation,

with less integration,

with no future intensions,

inspiration,

intuition is not introspected

This freedom is taken for granted

These temples are no longer respected

Our minds are objected

You are not for sale

You cannot be bought, neither sold

For God owns your soul

Remember God in all cases

Every season for every reason

For God knows your life is priceless

___________________________________________________

*The Rand is the currency in South Africa

About Phumzile:

Phumzile Cynthia Zwane is 17 years old and a Grade 12 pupil at Nellmapius Secondary school in Pretoria, South Africa. She hopes to pursue a career in radiography or geology. She loves writing poetry in her spare time.

Image credit: Peaceful, by Carol O’Driscoll