SheLoves Magazine

Not-So-Manic Mondays

A Declaration of Ubuntu

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

Last Friday our family celebrated Canada Day in Victoria. Today we are in Point Roberts, WA to celebrate Fourth of July with our American friends. (The picture is from last year.) Really, it’s because there’s a parade at noon and they throw candy at the kids. We have three little voices who remind us about this every year come summer: “Mommy, Daddy, are we going to the parade this year?” They bring their own buckets.

Freedom

On this Independence Day, freedom does feel like sunshine on my face, standing on the side of the road, watching eager young faces waiting for candy to rain down. Innocent ponytailed bliss. Sometimes freedom feels like a settled, worry-free heart. Sometimes freedom feels like safety—not having to greet a guard with an AK47 at the front gate to your home. Freedom also feels like choice: whether it’s choosing from the 27 different kinds of cheese in the Safeway dairy aisle or deciding which school we get to send our kids to.

Ubuntu

I can stand freely in the sunshine today, believing in life, liberty and the pursuit of justice, but I also know I don’t want my life and my liberty to come at the cost of another’s freedom. I’m realizing how much of my worldview is shaped by the African concept of “ubuntu.” More and more it’s how I understand my place in the world. In No Freedom Without Forgiveness,” Archbishop Desmond Tutu explains that ubuntu means: “I am human because I belong.” Another definition I’ve heard it is: “I am because you are.”

Or: Because you are, I am.

It makes my heart beat really fast when I see a friend, a sister, a child–anyone, really–shine in their strengths. In their brightness, I sense freedom and permission to let my light shine too.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could ALL live from that place of strength?

The truth us: Our lives are inextricably tied up into each other: Our freedoms, our debts, our growth, our ideas, our pain and our joys.

“A person with ubuntu … does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished …”

I have learned this lesson in my South Africa story: we belong in a greater whole.

My Gathering

And this week, my own gathering came in community. Last Monday evening as I started on my first official training run for our SheLoves Half-Marathon for Living Hope, feet rhythmically hitting the pavement, I was fully aware of how we were doing this as a community of women: A sisterhood in North America, rising up strong on behalf of sisters in Uganda. (Here’s the beautiful, brave story here of how it all started; or join us here.)

So, back to feet hitting the asphalt. Pound-pound-pound-pound. I became present in my body and with every Nike Shox sole hitting the ground, it became a moment of owning my place on this earth. Not to shrink back from the size of it (no, I wasn’t referring to my size 10 feet), but to own it. Step into it. Breathe in it.

God knows my heart: to go stand at the ends of the earth (and the edges of myself) and bring the world close. So Uganda would no longer be a country somewhere in Africa, but the women from the Living Hope Center in Northern Uganda would be close … right here on the tips of our tongues and close to our hearts.

Our world is full of Ugandas.

My other gathering came last Friday in Tina’s TGIF round-up from Derek Sivers: “Obvious to you. Amazing to others.”

I am reposting it here, thanks to Tina’s inspiration, just in case you missed it:

The premise is simple—the things we think are so obvious to us, so matter-of-fact, might be the very thing that is amazing to others. Sometimes our most inspired work lie exactly in this place of our most obvious.

I asked: What is so obvious to me that I disregard it?

And: what do I get asked for?

I thought about the things that excite me as I see my twitterfeed flash through on my desktop … what do I watch for?

Sisterhood

One of the core reasons for launching SheLoves magazine, was so we as a sisterhood would be gathered, get strong and act on behalf of our sisters (and brothers) in the many different parts of the world. (Hello!!!! Can anyone say SheLoves Half-Marathon for Living Hope?!)

My “obvious” was (before becoming so fully consumed in the daily operations of this web space) gathering stories and news bits on what’s going on with women and children around the world. I always want to know: What are the issues and stories affecting women and children on the earth? Where are women rising and shining? But also where are women hidden, shamed and diminished?

I feel compelled to know.

My “obvious” piece then got my heart beating fast. Of course!

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“A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with his freedom.” -Bob Dylan

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So, SheLoves sisters, here’s what’s in my globalgirl basket this week—the things I am carrying in my heart and what I want to be awake to and pray for, even while I stand in my freedom in the sunshine today:

• First female Thai Prime Minister

Thailand may soon have its first female Prime Minister, according to Reuters. Yingluck Shinawatra is a 44-year-old businesswoman who wasn’t even in politics two months ago, but after her political party won the election, is now poised to take on the position. Her brother is the fugitive ex-premier Thaksin Shinawatra who is the party’s de facto leader. Yingluck, known as Pou (Crab), the nickname her parents gave her, has never run for office or held a government post, but many Thais, especially women, are hopeful she can do the job. Of course it makes me wonder if this might in any way change the stories of women and girls in the poor Thai villages and Bangkok’s Red Light district.

• Mass Rapes in Congo last month

While our sisters in Northern Uganda are finding hope, restoration and dignity through organizations like Living Hope, there are women in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) who are still suffering mass rape at the hands of DRC troops. According to a UN report from July 1, residents of Nyakiele in the province of South Kivu told UN staff that troops serving with the Congolese armed forces, raped at least 121 women and subjected villagers to cruel and degrading treatment during the attacks, which took place around 11 June. (See the Bikya Masr report here.)

• Natalie Grant helps expand efforts against human trafficking

The singer has joined her voice to the fight against human trafficking, by launching a new coalition that connects organizations in the US.

Abolition International Launch Video from Abolition International on Vimeo.

• Amnesty International App

I remember the days when small groups of nuns and concerned citizens gathered to write letters and petitions through Amnesty International. I loved writing these stories when I reported in Taipei. This week I downloaded the AI app and I just sent an email to the Minister of Education in Slovakia from the convenience of my phone! (I will be going to Slovakia at the end of the month, so this was meaningful action for me.)

Get your own AI app on iTunes. I love the AiCandle part that says: USE YOUR VOICE. : ) It takes but a moment.

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Thank you for gathering with me this week. So, none of us are heavy, but only carry what we’re meant to carry, here’s my prayer for you:

May this be a place of Breath for you

A place where you are gathered

Just as I am gathered in the gathering.

May you find a sacred pause

In between the words

Just like I have.

May you be reminded of your strength

Before the winds of the week

Take you to new and familiar places.

As you find breath and Life here,

May you be a place of breath and Life for others.

In our global village, our lives are not disconnected and independent from each other; our lives are more connected than many of us may imagine. We spark ideas and revelation off each other. We borrow a cup of sugar. (I’m thankful in my neighbourhood we still do that.) We drink coffee from Ethiopia and there’s coltan in my iPhone. *sigh* We sign up for a half-marathon. *yay!* We contribute to the pain, but we also find a piece of freedom in each others’ freedom. We find strength and encouragement and we own our responsibility right inside of our freedom.

Happy Fourth of July!

Reporting to you live from this chair at Cafe Capanna, Point Roberts, WA.

Liefdegroete (love and greetings in Afrikaans, my mother tongue ),

idelette

Questions and thoughts?

• What does freedom feel like to you?
• Where were you gathered this past week?
• What is your obvious; someone else’s amazing?

About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and if I could travel to every spot on the map of the world, I would. I am a whole lot of dreams and hopes and sometimes that makes me intense, but I am learning to be totally OK with it. I have three kiddos and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago. I like to believe us girls can be kind and loving to each other–be each other’s greatest supporters–and that will make us a force for great good on the earth. I also like to believe Love covers a whole lot of everything, including my mistakes and my Taroko Gorge gaps. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Not-So-Manic Mondays

On Authority, Desmond Tutu and Finding Kindness in a Gray Suit

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

I’ll be honest: Showing up in black and white words here is one of the hardest things I do every week. Not because I have to speak from my center. But because I have to believe my center is worth speaking.

Here’s why: My center—my core—was formed around these agreements: “You are meant to be seen, but not heard. Your opinion does not matter. What matters is following the rules. Authority is always right.”

But then the rug got pulled out from under me, the world shifted and what I was told was truth, no longer applied. In fact, that truth turned out to be shameful, abhorrent and unjust.

“In times of change the learners will inherit the earth, while the knowers will find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists.” –Eric Hoffer

Old Story

It’s hard to imagine now, but growing up in an Afrikaans home in South Africa during the seventies, eighties and nineties, Desmond Tutu’s name wasn’t held in high respect at our kitchen table. I can still hear scoffs in the midst of the rustling of the Afrikaans newspaper whenever (then) Bishop Tutu said something publicly that got repeated in the Apartheid media machinery.

I heard the grunts and opinions from the kitchen table—strong sounds of dismissal and disagreement. The (now) Archbishop Emeritus represented the “other.” And any party or person who spoke against the authority of the time—anyone who took up the place of “other” was met with the sound of dismissal, disagreement and diminishing.

Authority

From home, school and church, I learned authority had to be obeyed; never questioned.

Authority looked like a school principal in a stiff, gray suit and sleek graying hair.

Authority smelled like brylcream and Old Spice.

Authority was a man in his fourties.

Authority looked stern and strict.

Authority had rules.

Authority ruled over others.

Authority always looked down.

Authority didn’t welcome opinions and discussions.

Authority dealt with cold hard facts.

Authority looked like my school principal in a stiff, gray suit and the Dutch Reformed Reverend preaching from a carved raised pulpit on Sundays. Authority looked like PW Botha (South Africa’s Prime Minister at the height of Apartheid) waving his index finger at the world.

Authority looked like my dad, reading his newspaper; no interruptions welcomed.

Seen, Not Heard

Kids had to know their place and that place looked like less-than. Unless asked or spoken to, the understanding was I needed to disappear inside my own skin and become quiet.

I learned authority had to be submitted to—a kowtow of the soul so consistent that your being finally took on that position permanently.

You may see how it’s hard—even still—to rise beyond that message of quiet and bowing to the higher up and stand in a place of ownership: owning my space, my voice and my opinion.

Perhaps that is why I now listen for the voices who don’t speak and perk my ears for the ones who have been silenced.

Leadership & Authority

I’ve had to pray through my understanding of authority—and, in effect, leadership. In many ways, for me, the two went hand in hand.

I remember in particular how I struggled—wrestled, really—with trusting any person in leadership.

Since the first 16 years of my life was based on a paradigm of lies and injustice—instituted by leaders in authority—I couldn’t reconcile myself with the idea of trusting another leader.

“How can I trust them, God?” I cried. “They lie, they mess up, they get it wrong … They cause so much pain.”

Hours, days, months of wrestling.

And then the answer that pierced me: “Leaders may mess up, Idelette, but My purposes will prevail.”

Kindness in a Gray Suit

Thanks to the knot in my stomach I generally feel around these figures of authority, for the past two years I’ve mostly avoided Gabi’s school principal. We’ve had three exchanges in two years: last year he scolded me twice for my car being in a wrong place (which made a grown woman cry, because it was feeding my old belief). But then, not too many weeks ago, we had a third encounter.

I was walking up to the crosswalk with Shay in my arms, only to see a little kindergartener run up to Mr Winton, clasp his arms around the principal’s suitpants and beam: “Hello, Mr Winton!”

My heart melted and I made a comment.

Mr Winton replied: “That’s why we do this.”

I pressed pause, so I could remember the scene.

Shift

Then two Fridays ago, I picked up Gabi and her friend from school. While the girls were chattering away in the backseat, I maneuvred through the busy Friday afternoon school traffic.

I spotted Mr. Winton standing in his usual place by the crosswalk in front of the school. I noticed his boyish haircut and his gray suit hanging softly … Suddenly, as I watched him greet students and direct traffic, I saw a picture of kindness.

Not vengeance, not punishment, not silencing … but kindness, in a gray suit.

My eyes immediately filled with tears.

I felt a big heave come on, but tried to be somewhat discreet. For the sake of Gabi’s playdate and my daughter’s reputation (how crazy is Gabi’s mommy anyway?), I swallowed the heave. But I also honoured my own moment of healing and shifting, by allowing the tears to roll down my face as we drove out of the schoolgrounds.

I let Kindness heal me.

It’s good to know paradigms can shift.

And it’s good to know people can change.

Last time my parents visited, they brought my kids Desmond Tutu’s beautiful Children of God Storybook Bible as a gift. And just a few days ago, my dad was telling me how wonderful Desmond Tutu was. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I have to believe that Goodness wins.

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Questions and thoughts?

• What do you feel challenged to show up for in your life right now?
• Do you have an Authority story?
• What does your picture of Authority look like?
• What silences or diminishes you?
• What gives you courage to speak up?

About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and if I could travel to every spot on the map of the world, I would. I am a whole lot of dreams and hopes and sometimes that makes me intense, but I am learning to be totally OK with it. I have three kiddos and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago. I like to believe us girls can be kind and loving to each other–be each other’s greatest supporters–and that will make us a force for great good on the earth. I also like to believe Love covers a whole lot of everything, including my mistakes and my Taroko Gorge gaps. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.