We Exist
“Suppose you went to a U.S. ghetto this summer and tried to help the poor there “help themselves.” Very soon you would be either spit upon or laughed at. People offended by your pretentiousness would hit or spit. People who understand that your own bad consciences push you to this gesture would laugh condescendingly. Soon you would be made aware of your irrelevance among the poor, of your status as middle-class college students on a summer assignment. You would be roundly rejected, no matter if your skin is white-as most of your faces here are-or brown or black, as a few exceptions who got in here somehow” (Illich 4). Illich understands and points out a major flaw in the selfless act of helping others: the superficiality that it can have. Coming from a much more industrialized society, Americans are incredibly privileged compared to many other countries that they want to “help.” An example that comes in my head of this mismatch of charity and social justice is Dr. Ben Carson, the new head of the Department of Housing and Urban Development. He grew up in the ghettos of Detroit, but his status as a wealthy and successful former neurosurgeon has outcasted him from the people he grew up with. His idea of helping people comes from a polar opposite ideology: Republican. Ben Carson is far deviated from the people he’s supposed to help in his new job at HUD. This issue of misguided help goes far beyond politics; Rachel Remen describes her experience with nurses as she was being treated for Crohn’s Disease: “Before I could change my appliance myself, it was changed for me by nurse specialists called enterostomal therapists. These white-coated experts were women my own age…[their] elaborate ritual made it harder for me. I felt shamed” (Remen 2). I find it ironic that those who are trained to help other people usually end up hurting their patients/receivers of that help in ways the givers have never anticipated. When one is in that role, many tend to think that helping is an absolute action: they associate it with fixing people and situations, thinking the problems they’re dealt with will magically be solved and that “all the poor people and children of the land will forever live in world peace!!!” Reality check: it’s not like that at all.
My role at my community partner, Marin AIDS Project, is definitely not a distinct “helping” or “fixing” role. I do help with the organization by answering phone calls and assisting with needle exchange and allowing clients access to the pantry. However, these duties do not allow me to call myself a helper nor a fixer. Instead, I call myself an advocate. I can’t have the attitude of a martyr with the people I interact with because I’ve never been in their position before. I’m not HIV+, so in the words of Illich, I have no way to really meet with the underprivileged, since there is no common ground whatsoever for us to meet on. However, I do have the power to make an impact on someone’s life. I often wonder if the people I interact with think the way Remen thought when she was helped: “One woman who served me profoundly is probably unaware of the difference she made in my life. In fact, I do not even know her last name and I am sure she has long forgotten mine” (Remen 1). What I’ve learned through my organization, and reflecting on Calderon’s piece, is that being able to see life through the perspective of whoever you’re helping is the best way to help. The clients that usually come in tend to have a negative attitude and they feel like they’ll never be understood. They also say they never want help, which confused me at first. However, by learning about the difference between helping and fixing this week, I gained a better understanding of the importance of the old cliche, “walking a mile in someone else’s shoes.” Perspective matters because it makes people feel like they matter, like they exist. They don’t feel ignored. If more people kept that in mind, then helping people would have the bigger impact that it should have.
