incoming call
Written in 2019 by Shira Nash for InLight Magazine
We live in a deafening world with conflict and chaos pervading our everyday lives. When we switch on the TV, refresh our timelines, or flip through the newspaper, we see breaking news headlines that simultaneously break our hearts. It is almost inescapable, as our world has seemingly become a battlefield. Crimson blood stains the paths we trod. Tears water the doomed trees of our forests. Division wretches and splits apart our once beloved lands. We call our country the United States of America but some of our actions contradict those words. Our ears have become numb to the sirens and our hearts slowly harden after hearing of another death. But amidst it all, if you listen closely, you can hear a buzzing sound- a sound of hope. An incoming call; a call inviting you to the frontline of the never-ending fight for justice.
I received my first call when I was seven years old. With light pink walls and alphabet letters decorating the floor, my second-grade classroom was a safe space- my home away from home. Even at that age, I was an avid reader, so my favorite part of our daily routine was “Circle Time.” Mrs. P would pick a student to choose a book to read, and each of us eagerly waved our hands jumping up and down at the hope of being chosen. On that winter day that I remember so vividly, I was chosen for the honor. I slowly scanned the wooden shelf ornamented with several colorful books in order to find the perfect one. My classmates shouted with high-pitched voices: “Ooh, ooh, pick Junie B. Jones again!” or “I want Diary of The Wimpy Kid,” and “Let’s read Magic Tree House, that’s our favorite!” I tuned out their boisterous voices as my eyes landed upon a new shiny book with its binds never creased: I am Rosa Parks. I slid it excitedly off of the shelf, embracing it lovingly with my skinny brown arms as I brought it over to the circle. Mrs. P reluctantly took it from my hands and looked at me with weary eyes filled with doubt. “Are you sure you want to read this one? What about Charlotte’s Web, I know you love that one.” Without answering her loaded question, I opened the book to the first page, smiled, and sat criss-cross applesauce until she began to read. The innocent walls seemingly crashed down, and our tiny second-grade world of simple addition and duck duck goose quickly expanded as she read about racism and segregation. I listened intently to each word as they bounced off her tongue, and frequently asked questions about why white people treated Rosa that way. Predictably, my teacher steered away from my questions almost as if answering them would set off a ticking bomb. Since I did not find the answers I longed for in the classroom, I sought them at home, frequently asking my family members about civil rights issues. Rosa Parks became my role model, my inspiration, the spark of my curiosity. Yes, I was undoubtedly young, but I pined to understand a part of my identity that had been long tiptoed over. Although I did not know it then, on that day, I started my quest for justice. I answered the call.
Although embarrassed to admit it, for a while I put my phone on do not disturb. Blinded by immaturity and selfishness, I saw my problems as the biggest problems of the world rather than the blaring issues right in front of me. My interest in advocacy and civil rights fizzled out, and I only cared about sleepovers with my friends and the newest makeup palette. Although I had been ignoring the calls, they were persistent, and I received another one in the eighth grade. I was invited to attend a week-long program at the University of Chicago that focused on how our generation will be the next global leaders of the world. At that program, I was forced to open my eyes to what I had long tried to ignore. I was lifted out of my bubble of ignorance and was shown that this is the condition of our world, and that is how it will be until I do all that I can to transform it. From them on, my fire for change was rekindled, and will never be put out. I have heard the rallying cries of my brothers and sisters across the world, and have decided to act to help alleviate the suffering of others. If I never answered that call, I do not know who I would be today.
There is a profound power instilled in each of us, the youth, that becomes even stronger when we are united. When we stand tall shoulder to shoulder bearing our armor of love and peace, we are undefeated. Our impenetrable iron shields provide a fortress that can protect the most vulnerable and marginalized of our society. There is power in unity, and there is strength in the multiplicity of our voices. We will not be silenced, we will be ignored, and we will not be stopped. As mighty soldiers for change, we will clean up the blood, we will wipe away the tears, and we will clean the deep wounds of our neighbors. The more willing soldiers we have on the frontline, the more injustice and inequity we can concur. If only we had you, our greatest recruit we could be-
Incoming Call...Will you answer?
