Displace Me

On April 28, 2007, I displaced myself as part of a national demonstration on behalf of the peoples of Northern Uganda who are forced to live in grossly overcrowded camps due to the civil war that has been fought there for the last 22 years. Over 70,000 people took place in the event across fifteen cities, including myself and six friends.


For one night, we slept in ramshackle cardboard huts, shivering as the cold air from over Lake Washington settled over Magnuson Park and the thousands of bodies therein. For one night, we gave ourselves to the cause of peace, demonstrating in hopes that we could gain the attention of our elected leaders and affect them to make a difference half a world away. For one night, we were displaced.

I still think on what that event has come to mean to me. It marked the moment when my eyes were opened to the world around me. I’ve always known that there was suffering in the world, but like most suburban American teenagers, I had no true concept of what that meant. There was war and poverty and unfairness, but it was always remote, distant. Like a colony of ants in the backyard, it was never something you noticed.

But since displacing myself, I’ve felt that knowledge pressing on me, pulling at me to do something. You cannot remain apathetic when it is within your means to improve the conditions of the world around you. Doing so would be a gross irresponsibility.

I pre-ordered a copy of Black is for Sunday the DVD and bracelet set documenting both the displaced in Uganda, and those who forwent the comforts of their life for one night to help them. It was on the honor system. They would send it to me with no guarantee that I would make my donation in return.
At the time, I thought the $35 was nothing in comparison to the difference it would make. When the set arrived though, my family was not financially well off and as a high school student with no job; I was not going to rely on them to pay off my obligation. So the DVD sat unopened on a shelf in my room gathering dust for almost a year and a half.

I looked at it nearly every day, and felt not only guilt for not honoring my promise to contribute but also responsibility. It was a reminder that there was something else in the world that deserved my attention. The petty struggles I faced in school were nothing in comparison to the challenges in the world. It became a source of strength for me. If they can live their lives and survive in the conditions that they did, nothing should stand in my way.

I got a job this past September, and with my second paycheck, I went to the bank and ordered a check for $40 addressed to the Invisible Children organization. Only since that check went in the mail have I felt closure enough to finally open Black is for Sunday and start wearing the bracelet. I now wear my reminder around my wrist where others can see it and be inspired to make a difference.