We can’t be Pro Life unless we Respect All Life

Disclaimer: This is what I have observed. I do not think for one moment ALL people who are Conservative/Pro Life Agree with what is going on on the border. I know there are more good people than bad but I have seen hypocritical things that confuse me and below are my thoughts on the issues.

I was born to a Catholic family. Irish and Italian Catholic to be exact, so my family has always instilled Catholic traditions and values while raising my brothers and me. As a Catholic, I was told the first day of Sunday school that God loves us all and we treat all life with respect and love. So naturally, I grew up with a Pro Life mentality. Abortion was murder and any act of harming another human was wrong. I still believe this. I am Pro Life. But as I got older, I realized Pro Life for some people only matters when it comes to unborn babies in a womb. There are many people who strongly believe in being Pro Life yet, are some of the same people who do not want us to help those who need it.

There is a tragedy that is going on in our country that we cannot ignore through blissful eyes. As many know, children at the border are being separated from their families. Children as young as two years old are being taken from the arms of their mothers and we as a nation are letting it happen. This is not a political party issue. This is a basic human rights violation and instead of stopping the problem all I’ve heard is the President blaming the Democrats and the Democrats blaming the President. I do not care whose fault it is but people in power need to stop blaming each other and do something to stop this horrendous act.

I do not understand how Attorney General Jeff Sessions quotes Romans stating, “Orderly and lawful processes are good in themselves. Consistent and fair application of the law is in itself a good and moral thing, and that protects the weak and protects the lawful.”

When this “law”( which is not a law but a the Zero Tolerance Policy enforced by the Trump administration) is not protecting the weak. It is destroying the weak who come here for refuge. These families who are looking for help, hope, and compassion yet are getting punished for trying to better themselves.

Yes, I understand people fear our borders are not protected enough, people who come here illegally are not paying taxes, and the “wrong kind of people” such as gang and drug lords are coming across our lines illegally, but this is a rare case. Many families trying to cross the border are trying to apply for asylum. Asylum is granted to anyone who is trying to escape persecution in their home country. If all of a sudden our politicians want to start quoting the Bible (which we shouldn’t because religion should have nothing to do with politics) they should also probably look at Leviticus, ” When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. (Leviticus 19:33-34).

Even if we are not allowing families to cross, why in the world are we separating their children? This concept does not make any sense to me. As a 25 year old, I would be devastated by being taken from my family, so how would this impact a small child. Who is caring for these children? Are the being clothed? Cleaned? Fed?

Yet, people are OK with this. The same people who quote biblical verses to help enforce their policies do not want to help the outcasts and poor? How does this even make sense? As Christians, we are often called to ask ourselves, “what would Jesus do?” Would the ever compassionate Jesus really deny children from their parents when his own parents were refugees and in need of help?

If we consider ourselves to be Pro life, we must think do we support all life? Do we support the children in the womb and on the border? Do we care about those who are being persecuted for their race, religion, gender, sexuality? Do we advocate for justice for all, even those in jail? We cannot be Pro life if we do not support all life.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'”(Matthew 25:25-36)

Tax Season and Teaching High Poverty Middle School Kids

As soon as February begins, I start to get the following questions from my students, “Miss Morrissey, ya get your taxes yet? What are you buying with your taxes?” The first time I heard this question last year I was so confused. I hadn’t even thought about getting a tax return. I was probably more concern with how many more weeks were left until Spring Break. It took me awhile to realize why tax season was so important to my kiddos. It meant they had an extra opportunity thrown into their lives to maybe buy new shoes, clothes, or get their nails done. My kids don’t get thrown a lot of opportunities their way and the refund from their parent’s tax return gave them a chance to get something extra.

When I was in middle school, I had no idea what a tax return was or that my parents made some extra money because of it. The only thing I knew about taxes at age 13 was it made anything I bought more expensive so I had to always remember to include tax when buying ice coffee. My students however know a lot about taxes. They know exactly when their parents’ W2s come in and when they should expect to see their refund in the account. For my students, tax season is more exciting than Christmas.

It was really mind boggling to me how concerned my students were about tax season but this wasn’t the first time my students had knowledge that I didn’t have when I was their age. I remember when I taught summer school we were talking about the 4th of July. I asked the kids why we celebrated the 4th of July and no one knew the answer. However, when we were talking about the constitution most of my students knew about the 4th amendment. I vividly remember one student shouting out, “Oh yea that’s the thing that makes it so police can’t come into our house unless they have a warrant.” Again, this statement shocked me and made me realize how ignorant I was to the lives of my students.

I mentioned to a few people how interesting it was that the kids in class knew all about tax season and how excited they were about their parents getting their returns. Some people made comments about how “those people” don’t know how to use their money efficiently or effectively and always blow it away once they have it.

This made me angry. Why should my students not get to enjoy the finer things in life just because they come from low income families? Just because they grow up in poverty doesn’t mean they should be forced to buy off brand items all the time or never enjoy luxuries such as getting their nails or hair done. What right do people have to judge others for how they use their money when they have it? I cannot even imagine the life my students have so I can’t judge what they choose to do or not do with their money.

Sure, would I rather have my students ask their parents to buy them pencils for schools with their tax return? Yes I would, but when it comes down to it if they decide to buy the latest Jordans with their parents’ money and it makes their year I’m totally fine with that. My kids don’t always have a lot and they deserve any happiness that comes their way.

It’s OK to Not Be OK

Almost a year ago, I was able to spend some needed time with my family who has recently been separated by distance. We were all reunited to cheer on our younger brothers’ basketball team to a regional victory. We are close. Despite all of us going down different paths we all are connected and support each other. My brothers are my best friends and almost a year ago I blame myself for almost ruining my family.

Almost a year ago, the weather was not grand but by no means a winter storm. After a celebration meal, we said good bye to our parents and youngest siblings and left to head back to Iowa. I was driving two of my brothers and the one’s girlfriend. The weathermen would say it was a light winter mix and the interstate was clear. It seemed like we were going to be fine. I was wrong.

We were 15 minutes away from my apartment when I started to slide on the bridge crossing into Iowa from Illinois. I am a paranoid and cautious driver so when the unexpected slide happened it took me awhile to process everything. The first slide I was able to gain control but then I started sliding a second time veering into the side of the bridge. My blue impala was being tossed back and forth and I had lost complete control. Eventually one of the hits to the impala caused it to spin around facing oncoming traffic and finally causing a stop to the vehicle. We barely had time to catch our breaths when we saw it. A semi was sliding toward us losing control just like we had done seconds ago. In my mind, all I could think of is this is how it ends.

The semi driver tried to avoid us but the truck of the semi slammed into the side of my car until the driver was able to head into a ditch. By some miracle, we were able to all evacuate the car in one piece. We were tossed around like a salad but left the scene with only cuts and bruises.

It truly was an act of God that kept us safe. Not many people can say they were hit by a semi and left the scene with only bruises. Physically, I was fine. Physically, I was able to live my life like the accident never happened. Everyone saw that I was physically alright so they told me not to worry anymore and count my blessing. One person even said I should just be thankful and not worry anymore.

No one asked about how I felt mentally. I told everyone I was OK because what right did I have to complain when everything turned out “fine?” But I was not OK. I was anything but OK. The week after the accident I cried every night before going to bed. When I tried to sleep all I saw was the semi coming at my family. I kept thinking that I was the oldest sibling and I could have caused the death of my mother’s children. I have always been third in charge of taking care of my younger brothers after my parents and the night of the accident I failed as the oldest. Not only was I in charge of my brothers’ lives but my brother’s girlfriend was in the car whom I barely knew at the time and I put her life in danger as well.

The accident happened at the end of winter which meant I didn’t have to worry about snow until the following year. However, every time I have to drive a long distance I make myself sick with worry. Bridges make me vomit, semis make me cringe, and the thought of driving in any snow makes my mind go into a mental panic. This winter there has been a few fatal snow related accidents and I can’t help but think why did they die and I was saved? Why am I so lucky yet still become sick with worry when it all turned out “OK”.

It took me awhile but I finally realized it was OK that I wasn’t OK. What happened to me was a freak of nature accident and it is natural to have some mental scars. Even after a year, I am still not mentally healthy from the accident and that’s OK. I feel in today’s world we are told to grin and pretend everything is fine but it is important to have trusted people in your life where you can confide things that are bothering you. When we hold back the stresses in our lives it builds up until we can’t take it anymore. I am all for overcoming obstacles but having people to help you through these obstacles makes the journey a lot easier. So when someone asks you, “are you OK?” don’t be afraid to let them know the truth because it is OK to not be OK.

Are You the Bully, the Defender, or Bystander?

In college, we spent a whole day in class talking about bullying. There is a thing called the Bullying Cycle. The cycle explains different people involved in bullying. There is the bully, the victim, henchmen, defenders, and the passive onlookers. The professor asked who is the worst person in this scenario? Many people think it is the bully or the henchmen but in fact it is the people who watch from afar and refuse to acknowledge the problem. You see, if people spoke up instead of watch, the bully loses power and becomes a fool. Bullies feed off of attention and fear but when the role is reversed they are put in their place and becomes powerless. The person who ignores the problem is just as much of a bully as the person who does the actual bullying because they allow it to happen.

This hit hard for me. When I was in high school, I watched so many times as one student in particular got bullied almost daily. It wasn’t always to their face but I realize now when I heard the jokes in silence I was feeding the fuel because I made it seem like it was OK for that person to be the subject of all the jokes. This is my biggest regret in high school. I did not have the courage to speak up for my classmate because I did not want to become the target. I realize now because I did not speak up I was also a bully.

Now as I watch the news and read articles I see the bully cycle all over outside of the school day. Are we to sit in silence and watch as certain people bully their way into power? We watch as people make excuses into why things are happening and how it is not their problem because they have bigger problems to worry about. Who is to decide what is a problem and what can be ignored? If we are aware of an issue and do not speak up for it we are as much as to blame as those who are in power.

“Our lives begin to end the day we decide to become silent about things that matter,” Martin Luther King Jr.

It is your choice. Are you going to be the bystander or are you going to be the defender?

Exposure-The Key to Fight Ignorance

I was in third grade when 9/11 happened. I remember coming home and seeing the footage of the planes crashing into the towers and being confused by what was happening. That imaged is stuck in my mind as I’m sure it is for many others. The other image that is stuck in my mind is the news constantly showing people who were part of al-Qaeda. The first day of my life that I was ever really exposed to a group of people from the Middle East was also the first day that I learned the word terrorists. So naturally, as a third grader I had the mindset that anyone who looked like the people on TV was a terrorists because no one had taught me different. My teacher did a good job explaining why it happened as much as she could but no one taught me anything about the Middle East. Even when I was in high school no teacher really taught about Islam or that al-Qaeda was a small section of Islam just like the KKK is a small section of Christianity.

Flash forward to my first job at college which was working at the campus coffee shop. My college had a large group of students from Saudi Arabia but when I saw them I assumed they were all from Iran, Iraq, or Afghanistan because they were the only countries I knew from that region due to the negative attention they got in the media. My first interaction with a Saudi Arabian student was a woman in a burqa ordering a latte and I was so nervous I gave her too much change back. I had never seen a woman in the flesh completely covered head to toe with just her eyes showing except on T.V. I instantly felt horrible for her. Why did her religion make her do such a thing? I didn’t understand because I was ignorant and knew nothing about culturally responsiveness at the time.

As I continued to work on campus, I interacted with more Saudi Arabian students and guess what? They were human just like myself. A lot of them were funny and would make jokes whenever they saw me. Eventually, I applied to be a conversation partner where I met with an international student to help them work on their English. Through that program, they had different events where people came to listen to other people talk about their culture. The night I attended, a young man from Saudi Arabia spoke up being Muslim. He explained that it was the religion of peace and how hard it was to explain to people that it was more than just what they saw in the media. Through that experience, I realized how little I truly knew about the world and how much I had to learn.

What I’m trying to convey, is that it shouldn’t have taken until I was in college to learn about different countries in the Middle East and the Islamic Religion. I carried a strong bias with me for 10 years and if I had not attended college I would still be carrying that bias. I was forced to interact with a different culture because of my job at the college and if I didn’t have that exposure I would still be ignorant.

When I taught kindergarten in Arizona I saw how my young students interacted with each other and they did not see color. I had students who were Native American, Hispanic, African American, and Caucasian all play together in harmony. Sure, they tattled, fought, and played a little too rough sometimes but they did not judge each other based on their culture because that was all they knew. It was truly a beautiful experience to see no bias in that classroom.

Now, I know for many people they are not as fortunate to grow up in such a diverse population. Unless you live in a large Urban area you may not see many people who are that different from yourself. However, there are amazing books out there even for small children that encourages learning about other cultures and I hope more people explore those resources.

As educators, parents, and humans in general we should try and challenge ourselves to learn more about people who are different from us to defeat cultural bias. The earlier we expose children to people who come from different places the more likely we will have a generation who shows love, empathy, and understanding rather than ignorance, bias, and hate.

My First Out of the Box Experience

When I was a kid, like many young children, I thought my world consisted of my family and fellow neighborhood buddies. I grew up in one of those neighborhoods where a family could let their kids roam all day in the summer and not have a worry in the world that they wouldn’t be home for supper. I was blessed. At the time, I thought everyone lived in a world like mine. Life was perfect and safe.

However, outside of my small town there was a city not even 10 miles away that didn’t have the same perfect feel. I knew that area was poor even before I really knew what poor was. Everytime my family went to visit my Nana and Papa we drove through the “bad part of town” where the buildings were abandoned, cars were rusted, and people roamed the streets in groups often yelling at each other outside of gas stations. I was never taught this part of town was “bad” I just knew it was different from where I grew up and it scared me.

One day, as my Dad was driving through the town to get to my grandparents he turned a different way. At this point in my life, I had started hearing adults say if you go to the rough part of town you were more likely to get shot. This is a scary concept for a child when trusted adults are telling you a certain area is essentially a “shooting zone”. When my Dad purposely started driving to the area where even adults were scared of I was of course freaking out. I started screaming, “Dad, you can’t go this way. It’s where the “bad” people live.”

My Dad shook his head at me. “Larissa, just because the area isn’t as nice does not mean the people are bad.” He proceeded to pull into a parking lot of what was I later found out was the projects.

My Dad put the car in park and looked over at me. “Do you see that little boy and mom over there playing? Doesn’t that remind you of your brothers and mom?” I nodded still not happy that I was stuck in a car in the bad part of town but noticing the boy and mother did start to calm me down a bit. My Dad continued to point outside,”Do you see that elderly couple walking together? Doesn’t that look like something your Nana and Papa would do?” I nodded again at this point starting to figure things out.

“These people are just like you and me, Larissa. They might not live in as nice of a house or can afford a car but they are people. It is important that you know that they are not much different from us besides their current circumstances.”

“But Dad, why do people in town think this place is bad if they are just like us?” I asked confused to why my Dad was telling me one thing and other people were saying something different.

“People are afraid of what they do not understand. Many people where we live have not even ventured to where you are right now because they are afraid. They only know what the news tells them and often the news points out the bad more than the good. It is up to people to be brave and understand others in order to help people not be afraid. I took you here because I want you to have understanding. I want you to not be afraid. Yes, there are bad things that can happen but bad things can happen anywhere and we should be working as a community to help stop those bad things from happening,” with that my Dad started the car and we continued on our way to see my grandparents.

Going to the projects and having my Dad explain why people were afraid of certain areas has impacted me more than my Dad originally thought. He gave me my first time seeing something different from my personal experiences. It was the first time I ever truly thought about the lives of other people outside of my family.