Just when I thought that I had social justice figured out, that night served as a jolting reminder of my privilege and complacency.
Right now, in Xinjiang, China’s far western province, roughly one million people are being detained in extralegal internment camps (the state calls them “re-education centers”). Those detained are mostly Uyghers, a mostly-Muslim Turkic ethnic group.
Until I lived there, South Sudan was more of a concept than an actual place. But in the spring of 2018, I got an email from a Jesuit priest who was the Country Director for the Jesuit Refugee Service in South Sudan.
Is it ethical for us to enjoy listening to music from artists who have displayed harmful and oppressive behavior? Should we separate the artist from the art?
Music has always been influential and, in turn, political. If our news source can massively influence the way we perceive events, people, and issues, wouldn’t something as prominent as music make just as much of an impact in the digital age?
I’ve come to realize this past year that the striking contrast between being a JV and a capitalist actor manifests in the relation of myself to the rest of the world — a cataclysmic shift from freely and generously giving my time to speculating and assessing the monetary estimate of my productivity.
Although we, as Catholics, make a commitment to the “one, holy, and apostolic church”, I have found a spiritual connection to Buddhism: a relationship that possibly expands and further explains what I value in the Catholic tradition.
“They Say” is a poem Meg O’Neill wrote while working in Ritsona refugee camp in central Greece.
For this post, I decided to curate a list of some “not-so-easy-breezy-beachy” books that I absolutely recommend.
I recently attended a conference on Building Stronger Communities, held by the Albert Kennedy Trust, one of the UK’s biggest LGBTQIA+ social services. After an incredible experience, I reflect on where social service spending goes and how its being used.
I can attest that JVC’s foundational enshrinement of solidarity is just as alive and beautiful today, because its raw power and emotion has bled outside of my JV year and pierced my life in small, tender ways as an FJV.
About a year ago, in attempts to live simply, safely, and ethically, I decided to switch to all-natural deodorants. Here’s what I came up with.
There are those who dedicate their whole careers to helping people gain access to various resources, but there are also ways we can be stewards of access in our every day lives by sharing knowledge and information that can ease a small bit of another’s suffering. For me, it currently is sharing a code to the restroom at Whole Foods.
Released in 2018, Boy Erased and The Miseducation of Cameron Post bring major attention to Christian conversion therapy and the general repression of queerness by conservative Christian communities. In this post I discuss the ripple effects this kind of mass media representation has on people who identity as both queer and Christian, and what that might mean for FJVs working towards a better understanding of allyship within the church.
I recently read Sarah E. Stevens’ essay “Care Time” in Disability Studies Quarterly, in which she reflects on how her experiences as a care partner affect her relationship to time. Stevens’ essay got me thinking about the two years I spent as a live-in assistant at L’Arche Heartland. Stevens’ description of care time strongly resonated with my experiences as a L’Arche assistant, but I also noticed some interesting points of divergence between care time and “L’Arche time.”