These thoughts were written by Gabe, one of our 2020 summer interns. The opinions expressed herein do not reflect those of Civitas other than respect for the value of open dialogue.
Everybody wants to be good people. Save the rarest of examples, nobody wants to be that guy. The evil one. The one who laughs when a puppy blows up, so some equally devilish act.
Now, there’s disagreement on who exactly deserves the help of good people, or rather, who good people are for. How far does your charity reach? Your family? Your friends? Your neighborhood? Your city? Your state? Your country? Humankind? I can’t answer that for you. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because this is not an essay to argue why you ought to care about one over the other.
This is an essay about helping people.
Well, how do you do that?
The easiest way is to just ask them what they need. A handful of Christians asked the question in West St. Louis County in the 60s. The answer was food. They founded Circle of Concern Food Pantry. It’s still there, whether that’s a testament to the drive of people to help or a monument to the failure of a world where are all fed, I do not quite know. Regardless, it’s there, and it’s serving roughly 2,000 people a month. A third of them are children. Feeding that many people isn’t a simple task. Circle stores the bulk of their stock in a garage-turned-warehouse across the parking lot.
I’ve been volunteering at Circle ever since my mom became the pantry director. My task is usually the same: stock the shelves in the main building. Given that I’m one of the youngest volunteers by a factor of maybe 30 years, it’s the task I’m given in part because I’m spry enough to do it. It’s a task that’s excitement is based on the music I happen to be listening to. Which is fine, an excuse to listen to music is always acceptable, but it’s certainly not flashy. But it’s not supposed to be flashy, it’s supposed to stock the shelves.
Maybe not everyone wants to be good people.
But it sures seems like everyone wants to look like good people.
Optics are lovely and whatnot (after all, we’re a visual species) but they don’t actually do anything. And I’ve already written about this. (Twice actually.) And the anxieties that plagued those poems have not left, if anything they’ve grown sharper. Which, I suppose is the natural order of things.
For example, when you’re young, a car is effectively magic. You get in it, watch the world go by, and then you’re at the destination. Then you learn to drive. You learn the rules, what to do, what not to do, and suddenly you can’t not see people break them. Even your parents or family.
I can’t not see the homeless people in St. Louis anymore. I can’t not watch things go wrong. I can’t let people suffer anymore. So, I have to help them, as long as I’m able to.
And that means I need to do things that actually help them. Not declare support, work. And that’s something that I would say most people understand. Giving someone food is way more meaningful than saying you’ll give them food, but once again, we’re a visual species. Everything’s focused on optics. This is compounded by a system (or rather, a series of systems) in which everyone is connected to everyone else at all times (for better or for worse).
Odds are you know where this is going…
(If you’re reading this in a future I can only imagine is beset by another systemic tragedy, this is about Blackout Tuesday.)
Blackout Tuesday had humble-enough beginnings. At least, I think it did, all explanatory information was promptly drowned by, well, Blackout Tuesday. A call to shutdown the feeds, break up the timeline, and promote black creators in the freed space. We got black squares.
Genuinely, I thought Instagram was crashing when I opened it. Then, I noticed that every post was tagged with #blackouttuesday and often #blacklivesmatter. Now, I’ll be frank. I don’t quite know how Instagram’s algorithms work, truthfully, I’m not sure anyone does. What I do know though, is that flooding a hashtag with black squares usually makes the only thing to come up for that hashtag black squares. This is great if you search #blacksquare, you know, where you’d go for a plain black square. It’s not so great when you search #blacklivesmatter, a tag full of infographics and event listings and life. Well, it was, before a wave of black squares filled the feed.
“But goddammit I want people to know I’m on the right side of history!” A chorus of voices rises from deep in the horizon.
And I respond, “Why does being seen as good matter more than doing good?”
If I want to have a little fun with it, I’ll drop Matthew 6:1-4.
I’m going to become a broken record if I need to write some version of this essay again. If you want to be on the right side of history, then be there. Don’t say you were there. If you want to be a good person, do good. Don’t say you did good. And doing good and being on the right side of history is not alone a post or tweet.
It doesn’t need to be big either. Sometimes the floors just need to be waxed. Sometimes the shelves just need to be stocked.
If you want to help (and/or put your money where your mouth is…)
Operation Food Search is a St. Louis area food bank org and always appreciative of donations.
STL Mutual Aid is a network of organizers and people coming together to deliver food and supplies, provide financial solidarity, offer emotional support, and connect people to their neighbors; you can donate to individuals specifically or the group as a whole.
You can donate directly to the Black Lives Matter organization. This is a national org though, so your donation may not be as efficient nor effective as donating to a local org.
It feels like there’s a billion soup kitchens or food pantries in St. Louis. Pick one near your house and volunteer there. Just remember, you’re there to help people, not optics. If you’re going for a photo-op, just don’t go. Speak not of your good work, just do good work.
