Dancers who Dance Upon Injustice
In Honor of International Women's Day
March 8-14, 2010
There is a song I love to sing called "Did you feel the Mountains Tremble?” It is a song about overcoming injustice. It always inspires me. I particularly love the chorus:
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring you hope
Songs that bring you joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
I know injustice. I have met injustice in this country and in the third world. Injustice is a dark and deceptive monster created by pride, ego, prejudice, greed and corruption. It breeds inequality and preys on the most vulnerable of our society. It has allowed for the widening gap between the rich and the poor in our world. It stands by while 2 billion people live in poverty. It watches while 10 million children under the age of 5 die annually of pneumonia and diarrhea. It doesn’t even flinch while 15 million children are left orphaned by AIDS.
The victims of injustice have a face. That face is usually female. I have an image of that face in my mind. She is young and was once so beautiful with stunning black skin and dark, joyful eyes, a brilliant smile…………until injustice intervened. Now, after a brief whisper of a life, she lies quietly in a women’s ward in a third world hospital, in a room shared by eight others in a similar condition. She didn’t have a chance. Born on a continent that has been torn apart for centuries by injustice and it’s ugly partners, her country, Lesotho, Africa is one of the poorest in the world. Barely reaching beyond the grasp of devastating poverty when the AIDS pandemic hit 25 years ago, it now sits, poised for extinction. Human extinction. I choke out this phrase blinking back outraged tears…but injustice loves these words, takes great pride in them.
I watch as she lays there, staring off into space. She is long past the stage where anything can be done. Her once beautiful skin hangs loosely over wasted muscles. Her hair hangs in thin wisps, her cheeks sunk in, mouth open, eyes glued to some invisible, other-worldly entity. I am always intrigued by how rhythmic and slow the breathing of a dying person becomes, controlled by a brain intent on survival. She isn’t struggling or suffering, anymore. She is long past that too. If I pull myself back to a safe emotional distance, I could justify her death. Hers is a small life, insignificant, meaningless, expendable on a global scale. As I glance over to the side of her bed, any attempt at keeping my cool, clinical distance is shattered when I see her children. They are standing by witnessing this horrific event; the uncalculated, unconsidered, collateral damage of their mother’s demise. They are the most vulnerable victims of injustice. In Lesotho, these are the lucky ones. Some are forced to watch this unimaginable loss on their own in what is left of the huts their once thriving family lived in.
Despair can settle in so easily. What is the point? Why try? Injustice is a huge Goliath and I am much smaller than David. But then, the words of that song resonate in my mind. I have danced upon injustice, it was a small dance but it did make a difference. Others joined me in this dance and together we made a much greater difference. We all wore bracelets, the Bracelet of Hope In Guelph we wore bracelets and lives in Lesotho were saved, mothers lived to raise their children and deathbeds in hospitals were left empty.
Imagine if the citizens of Kitchener Waterloo joined in our dance along with the good people of Cambridge and Woodstock? What would happen if every Canadian joined in, each wearing a Bracelet of Hope? We could see the end of AIDS in one beautiful African country.
Some call me unreasonable and idealistic even foolish but I believe I can see beyond this young, international woman’s deathbed. I can see the last victim of injustice in Lesotho. I can see one country, AIDS free, injustice infuriated and it’s victims transformed to life and a good future. And as the dance grows and Canada succeeds could our example end the AIDS pandemic entirely? I think so.
For the women and children on this planet who suffer the most, I will continue to wear a bracelet of hope. I will continue to encourage all Canadians to join us in this remarkable and powerful dance.
