By: Tyler Orem
Short-term mission work
is always for the sake of those going. The travel, work, and cultural
engagement that occur lead directly and quite unilaterally to the growth of the
individual and group entering into the situation from the outside. For
super-short missions, every place and situation encountered in travel takes on
special import for the traveler. Details that have no significant benefit for
the local community carry great significance for the visiting party. In other
words, instances of reliving the 90’s rock canon while flying by countless cars
that have slid off the road, listening to New Orlean’s finest WWOZ while
driving through the Mississippi’s backwaters, and screaming U2 at the top of
our lungs while careening around the streets of New Orleans tend to stick with
you.
For me, the sticking
points tended to involve bathrooms—Steak ’n Shake restrooms, portable johns,
parking lot corners, church lavatories, gas station closets, and concrete
outhouses that could be bolted from the outside. One such bathroom encounter
occurred on our journey south. The state, city, and specific gas station escape
me, but the event stands out in my memory. I walked into the convenience store
and made my beeline to the back. There was an unremarkable cast of characters
in the store—a cashier glaring at me for my scheme to use the facilities
without buying anything, a police officer, a few adults, and a few children.
When I got to the inevitably single water closet, though, the population
increased dramatically. Upon barging through the unlocked door, I discovered
that the single room was filled with children. I leapt back into the hallway to
wait my turn. They opened the door and quietly gestured for me to enter. Self
conscious of the creep factor, I remained in the hallway. Without making a
noise, they kept waving for me to come into the bathroom. I would just shake my
head and wait, puzzled but unconcerned.
Eventually, the police
officer in the store walked out and a new man entered, making my same beeline
to the back. He turned to me and said I could go ahead into the bathroom. I
explained the situation, and he smiled and said that the children were with
him. Coming from undocumented families, they were afraid of the police officer.
Their automatic response was to quietly hide in the bathroom. I was shocked. I
had possibly put their safety into jeopardy by standing in the hallway and
refusing to see clearly their situation. By waiting to respond to the call of
nature, I was proving to the people in the store that the bathroom was
strangely occupied.
Unfortunately, their
fear of a police officer was probably well founded.
Horrifying laws are
being passed in more and more states to systematically oppress certain groups
of people and eliminate the necessary vibrancy created by diverse communities.
Local police have powers previously exclusive to ICE. There need be no probable
cause for investigation and arrest beyond racial profiling. Children feel the
need to quietly hide in the bathroom for fear of their own well-being. And one
clueless outsider could unwittingly snap the fragile line of safety.
The lesson of this story
is not that we should ignore the impulse to avoid creepiness. Rather, it is
that when entering new situations we should be aware that our very transient
presence has the potential to do harm. At the same time, I have grown
personally because of the encounter. I have a richer, more personal
understanding of a system that hurts so many and motivation to become involved.
So, something good definitely comes from the encounter, but not without
potential cost. I challenge you to be aware of all the effects one can have in
doing short-term missions. The good. The bad. And the creepy.
No comments:
Post a Comment