I Change By Not Changing

Here’s the deal: My Journey seems to be the story of static. I did it-- I went back through middle school diaries and high school poetry. I dug deep for inspiration. I though about timelines and monumental moments.

Maybe I’m wrong or missing something, but it seems to me that I am the same as the 4th grade Bailey serving meals to the homeless, the 7th grade Bailey building homes in rural America, and the 10th grade Bailey pledging public service through future governmental employment. I still believe in love, care, kindness, community, dissent, embrace and questioning. I still simultaneously value doubt and commitment. I am still confident in my ability to do good and hopeless about the massive task of creating a better world.

Age 11: I encounter a decade of volcanic debris still piled on top of the slums of Angeles City, Philippines more than 10 years after the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo.

Age 15: I speak up at my first church business meeting when affluent white congregation members refuse to open our space to a growing Chinese Baptist Church.

Age 16: I walk out of a camp talent show to protest racist performance given by two campmates.

Age 17: I attend the March of Peace and Justice in Washington, DC in opposition to the Iraq War.

Age 19: I visit El Progreso, Honduras for the first time, leaving with the cement embedded in my skin and the importance of relationship in my mind.

Age 21: I withdraw my Fulbright application to accept a position with Teach for America in San Jose, California.

The mechanisms and circumstances may differ but the WHY remains the same: None of us is uplifted until all are.