Way to Keep Sane *and* Pass the Time #2s: Volunteer

I don’t know if you know this about me but both of my parents have MSWs.  My dad used his more for the corporate world but has recently returned to his non-profit roots.  My mom, on the other hand, always did a lot of clinical and outreach work.  This means that at about five years old, I was well aware of things that most five year olds remain blissfully ignorant about until some movie of the week exposes them to the dirty, ugly truths of life. 

At five I knew about the HIV epidemic (this was the late 80s) because my mom had infected clients. I knew condoms had something to DO with HIV but had no idea what a condom really WAS (so I did get to maintain that smidge of ignorance).  I knew about child molestation and had been meticulously instructed on “good touch bad touch.”  Finally, I knew that there were people out there who would hurt and scare women and children enough that they were forced to hide in shelters. 

Those shelters were where my volunteer work began.  My mom would bring me and I’d help in the way a five-year-old can: stocking the kitchen, playing with other kids, etc.  Since then, I can count on two fingers (London and DC Part 1) the periods in my life where I was not doing something, for free, to help someone else.

Now, I am not saying this because I think I am amazingly wonderful and altruistic.  The truth is, I was indoctrinated as a small child and I don’t know another way to live my life. I do not feel complete if I am not volunteering.  It is not entirely selfless because it makes me feel good.  Another benefit is that when you’re unemployed, volunteering is a great way to keep up your skills and to fill the time.

In DC, I have two consistent volunteer activities. On Thursday nights I tutor and mentor a little boy from SE DC.  He’s 10.  We’re working on his reading and I’m re-learning fractions. On Fridays, I volunteer in house as an attorney at Catholic Charities.  I was connected with one of my pro-bono clients through CC as well.  I am deeply conflicted about, oh, 90% of Catholic practice and teachings.  However, their work with undocumented migrants, migrant victims of violence and asylum seekers makes me proud to be a (terrible) Catholic.

In addition to those two activities, I keep my eyes and ears open for things that interest me. This month was the President’s second inauguration and I decided to volunteer for that.  I’m excited for President Obama’s second term (especially regarding immigration reform and LGBTQ rights) and I thought it’d be a cool way to meet others who are like minded.  

It was the single worst volunteer experience of my life. Worse than that time I had to clean up brown recluse spider infested debris in post Katrina Slidell. At least then, only the venomous spiders, not the organizers or equipment, were a problem. 

Initially, I was told that I would be helping with coat check inside of the Inaugural Ball.  I was psyched though puzzled about how my background and small donation could have landed me such a plum role.  In my head, I was already dry cleaning my gold lace D&G dress.  I was contemplating how to create a smoky eye from my NYX kit (I have never gotten that down!).  I was studying up on the types of fur so that when JayZ handed me his chinchilla I could make a smart observation.

Alas, this was not to be. Instead I was outside of the McPherson metro stop in a bright red (made in the USA!) polyester hat carrying an “Ask Me!” sign.  How many people actually asked me how to get to the ball? One.  Most people who asked me questions were men who just wanted to talk.  I guess the hotlines for that sort of thing are fewer and fewer.

I’ll spare you the details about how awful it was to volunteer with this Inaugural Committee. In addition to voicing my concerns in person, I wrote the committee an email expressing my concern about their disorganization, cavalier attitude toward volunteers and failure to follow through on several assurances (examples: “you’ll never be alone and will always have a partner!” and “We’ll have handwarmers, vests and credentials for you!”). I stopped short of calling them a discredit to the administration but did state I would never volunteer with the administration again.  The email included more than half a dozen-bullet points.  My initial inclination was to include a chart but there’s no need to nuke a bridge when a good old-fashioned burning will do.

That was last week and I was just getting over the crowds when I wandered out of CC this Friday to grab something at Dunkin Donuts and ran into…. The March for Life!  It is the 40^th anniversary of Roe this year and this weekend DC is hosting a few hundred thousand anti choice activists!  I didn’t know this for sure until I asked someone in the Dunkin Donuts which was chock full of both coffee AND people who believe that life begins at conception and should be protected at any cost.

I admit to being so unsettled out by the multitude of squeaky clean, fresh faced anti choice advocates that I had to call my mommy.  She immediately wanted to know if I engaged them in conversation about my personal views on the subject. For the record, I’m staunchly pro-choice. You probably already knew that. 

Anyway, my mom is one of those people who really likes to engage people in hopes that she will challenge the way they think or figure out why they believe what they do.  On this issue, I am not. So when she said,

“ Did you ask them…”

I cut her off and said something like, “No, no I did not because by the time you’re in DC, having traveled there on a bus from middle America with 20 members of your church group, alighting to wave huge signs with a screen printed baby on them, we’re beyond conversation.”

I can hear it now…..

Me: I think your movement is rooted in religious fervor, misogyny, lack of empathy, short sightedness and a need to wholly control women’s sexuality.

Protestor: I think your movement kills babies.

Bam! Totally dropped the dead baby bomb!  As far as they are concerned there’s no coming back from that one! 

So no, I asked a few questions about what was going on, repressed the urge to yell “Long Live Roe! And to a lesser degree Casey! Ha! Souter fooled ya!” and sipped on my delicious hot chocolate.  DD makes fantastic hot chocolate.

Besides,  I know the marchers would not have gotten angry, but they would have tried to school me in a gentle, Christian way.  

Also, my already bleeding heart was softened when I saw one of them buy a homeless guy a turkey sandwich.  It was actually nice to see a fully integrated picture of Christianity (giving alms to the poor and protesting the murder of innocent babies). This is one of many things I have against several major religious institutions.  Sure many are downright draconian when it comes to sexuality, abortion and gender roles.  The same churches (I am looking at you Roman Catholicism and Latter Day Saints) are incredibly progressive when it comes to immigration, poverty and  the death penalty.  They should be JUST as vocal about the DREAM Act as they are about Roe.

And that’s why, my friends, it is awesome to see someone in a bright green pro-life scarf buying a homeless man a Turkey sandwich at Dunkin Donuts.

You had no idea that a post about filing my time with volunteering was going to end with anti-choice baby signs at Dunkin Donuts did you? Ah, the magic of the written word.