Rainy Days

It's been a while, but I'm back at this blogging.

It's interesting to see how people respond differently to the things that they encounter. At three consecutive camps it rained quite a bit, or at least by my desert standards, and caused minor inconveniences in terms of schedule adjustment and dampness. Even as campers were cooped up inside due to cancelled activities I enjoyed watching them build connections with each other and solidifying their ties as a group. This was especially true in the West Virginia camp that was held a Bethany College - if you haven't heard of it I suggest that you look it up, because that place is amazing (shameless plug). As I am currently at the end of my time as a peace intern I can say that it was the smallest camp that I attended; however, it was the most closely knit and open group of people that I encountered this summer. I have seen many group covenants saying that being vulnerable  is accepted and that the group is there for support, but the campers actually lived out that statement before my eyes so many times and in so many ways. It was inspiring.  More than that I feel that the concern held many on the decreasing youth attendance may be detracting from what can be done with the youth that are present. It felt as though this small West Virginian camp had some of the deepest conversations about life and managed to leave a larger footprint than some of the large camps I encountered.

I feel that I might have drifted a little bit just then. Eh, I think its fine. Moving right along. I really noticed the power of friendship while I was a Dunkirk, or rather how awkward it feels to be on the outside on the first day (**Disclaimer: this happens everywhere**). Don't get me wrong. I love that camp and really want to get back, and the same is true wherever I went, but its rough being the new kid on the block. If not for one person reaching out by giving up a seat with their friends to come and sit at my table, then I don't know if the week would have been the same. I actually observed this throughout the week from various people as the people who were at the fringes would be drawn into a group and included as though they had been there forever. The rain that drove us to the same area during free time assisted with this; however, it was initiated entirely by the campers without prompting so that was fun to watch.

More words and things. If anyone is on the fence about being a peace intern just take the dive. The only drawback is getting tired, but that's only really at the end. Plus there is plenty of time to sleep on planes so it balances out. More than that it makes a difference in real time.

I Can't Keep Quiet

I am at my last full camp and I have realized that I haven’t really talked about what it is I’m doing at all these camps. Of course every camp is different in how they choose to utilize me, but I have taught something social justice related at each camp. My largest workshops are about mass incarceration and inherent bias within the media.

Mass incarceration focuses both on how this system of oppression started, with change of sentencing for certain drug crimes and 3 strike policy, but what I mostly focus on is the barriers that we put in front of people once they have left prison, specifically focusing on voting rights, equal employment, housing rights, and access to education. I use Luke 4: 16-21 wherein Jesus decrees to set the prisoners free and bring justice to the oppressed. Many campers have a hard time with this workshop because of the “us versus them” mentality our society puts on prisoners. Many campers have told me that prisoners deserve to be where they are and we shouldn’t let them out. My response is always that people should not be judged based off their worst act and that as long as our justice system is unjust and broken then those in prison should not be treated the way we treat them. I have had some campers have an Aha! moment when we talk about voting rights within prison. One camper in particular realized that her own town was using a prison to have a larger population without giving the prisoners the right to vote. Those are the moments that I love and that keep me going.

The second large workshop I do begins with an activity we learned during our anti-racism training. I ask the campers to consider what our society says makes a good American and how that is the center of dominance versus the borderlands. I then show two images to the group, one of Trayvon Martin and one of Brock Turner. Before we discuss who the people are, we first discuss what the message the image is giving. Both images are the ones that were widely used by the media and we discuss why the media would want to use these images. We then discuss where we would place each person on the previously discussed diagram, either in the Center of Dominance or in the Borderlands. Finally, we talk about who these people are and how their actions contradict the story told by the media. I haven’t had as much push back from this workshop, but campers tend to become quieter while the adults in attendance seem to become more enraged.

For both of the workshops we focus on systems of oppression that we are all actively participating in. We can often feel that because the injustice doesn’t affect us, it shouldn’t concern us. But I believe that as Christians we are called to stand up for the oppressed and to fight against the systems we have put in place to continue the oppression. I try to finish each workshop with talking to the campers about what they are passionate about. I tell them that having passion is one of the most important things in life and that we should all have a cause that we all care deeply about. It doesn’t have to be what I’m passionate about, but everyone should have a cause in which they want their voice to be heard. If I got anything out of this summer, it’s that one is never too young to have passion and to have one’s voice heard. I hope that that message was conveyed at the camps I went to. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCnexOFOxCo

Crossing Borders: My Week at Loch Leven

Diversity—a quality that many of our camps strive for, yearn for, dream about.

Tokenism—an unfortunate result of our desperate want to feel diverse.Unity—often confused with uniformity and conformity; being of one tribe.Tribalism—constructed borders that keep us “with our own;” Othering.

A crossroads—an intersection
a confluence
a state of being both, and
a place “sin fronteras”
without borders

My past week at Loch Leven was a crossroads of culture, language, and differences. Real diversity was present, and our differences met in a spirit of worship, discussion, and unity. At camp there were youth from China, youth from Mexico, youth from Southern California, second and third generation immigrant youth, youth of different sexual identities, and youth from various faith traditions (or no faith tradition).

Needless to say, there were very clear and distinct barriers between our various tribes. There was chatter about the possibility that the youth will segregate themselves from each other reinforcing borders of separation—the us and them mentality.

And perhaps the first day of camp went a little like this. The Chinese youth hung out with their interpreter, the youth from Tijuana spoke in Spanish to their friends, and the Southern California youth fell back into camp cliques. This is how camp goes, no? People connect with people similar to themselves—segregation is natural at this age they said.

They could not have been more wrong. By the end of the first day I witnessed an ice breaker where youth were all mixed up and randomly introducing themselves to people they had never met (per usual for first day activities). In a small group, I saw a group of about four youth speaking, but there were three languages being spoken. A Chinese boy introduced himself in Mandarin, which was then translated to English. However, there were no English speakers in the group—it was merely the middle language. Once the message was in English, an adult from Tijuana was able to translate it into Spanish for the other two youth. It was truly a crossroads of language and culture in practice.

As the week went on, worship began to resemble and model what the camp began to look like. Scripture was read in all three languages, prayers were spoken interchangeably between Spanish and English, praise songs incorporated verses in different languages. Our small groups made efforts to learn words and phrases in each other’s native tongues—in one instance a Tijuana camper read scripture in English and a Southern California youth read en Español. It was purely their idea, executed by them, and received with thunderous applause from the camp.

They actually cheered and encouraged the spirit of the crossroads; they were living sin fronteras. A phrase I have borrowed from an amazing scholar, poet and activist Gloria Anzaldúa. Her book Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza has been foundational in my workshop throughout this summer. In her work she eloquently describes life trapped by borders, and how our bodies, identities are physical borderlands—bridges—crossroads—between us that unite us.

Her work combines her experience of intersectional identities—Mexican, Texan, Indigenous, Woman, Queer, Mestiza, Chicana…She writes this poem at the end of her book, a poem that made me think about my week at Loch Leven.

To Live in the Borderlands
By Gloria Anzaldúa

To live in the borderlands means you
are neither hispana india negra espanola
ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed
caught in the crossfire between camps
while carrying all five races on your back
not knowing which side to turn to, run from;

To live in the Borderlands means knowing
that the india in you, betrayed for 500 years,
is no longer speaking to you,
the mexicanas call you rajetas, that denying the Anglo inside you
is as bad as having denied the Indian or Black;

Cuando vives en la frontera
people walk through you, the wind steals your voice,
you’re a burra, buey, scapegoat,
forerunner of a new race,
half and half-both woman and man, neither-
a new gender;

To live in the Borderlands means to
put chile in the borscht,
eat whole wheat tortillas,
speak Tex-Mex with a Brooklyn accent;
be stopped by la migra at the border checkpoints;

Living in the Borderlands means you fight hard to
resist the gold elixir beckoning from the bottle,
the pull of the gun barrel,
the rope crushing the hollow of your throat;

In the Borderlands
you are the battleground
where enemies are kin to each other;

you are at home, a stranger,
the border disputes have been settled
the volley of shots have scattered the truce
you are wounded, lost in action
dead, fighting back;

To live in the Borderlands means
the mill with the razor white teeth wants to shred off
your olive-red skin, crush out the kernel, your heart
pound you pinch you roll you out
smelling like white bread but dead;

To survive the Borderlands
you must live sin fronteras
be a crossroads.

---

I shared this poem with the youth at Loch Leven at their Friday night worship service. The service deeply moved me, and was quite symbolic of their week of camp. They burned their border walls—literally and metaphorically.

The service had us walk and stop at stations where we reflected on borders that separated us from each other: Gender, Race, Class, Sexual Orientation, Language, Religious Belief, and Personal Barriers.

These barriers were symbolically written on logs so that the log represented the barrier itself. The logs were collected and, with enthusiasm, chucked into a camp fire to be burned and destroyed. Whether the youth who planned the service know or not, they committed a radical act of social justice. They took the step and decided to stop giving power to the borders that separate.

Their focus was not diversity, their focus was not tokenism, their focus was not uniformity, their focus was not unifying tribes.

Their intention was the opening of spaces, like Loch Leven, to be a crossroads—a borderland without borders. They intended to open the space to allow diversity to exist as it does in the world, they moved to open then space to allow tribes to exist like they do in the world, they burned the things standing in the way.

To live in the borderlands is to live in flames;

The borderlands are not easy, they are not comfortable, the borderlands are treading new ground;To live in the borderlands is to live in tempest.And yet, my week at Loch Leven imparted in me lyrics. These lyrics reassure me, they assure me that a crossroads of flame and tempest embraces—for I am yours and you are mine.

en tempestad/Descansaré en tu poder/Pues tuyo soy, hasta el final

Elijah in Montana

This summer I have experienced the “Branching Out” curriculum three times. One of the bible stories that we focus on is the story of Elijah going to the top of mount Horeb because God said God would speak with Elijah there. A great wind passed by Elijah, but God was not in the wind. Then a great earthquake shook the mountain, but God was in the earthquake. Finally, a powerful fire moved through the fields and mountain, but God was not in the fire. Elijah put his cloak over his eyes and moved closer to the cave, only then did he hear God speak to him.

During my week in Montana I experienced all of these natural phenomenons. My first night here, most of the campers and counselors woke up to an earthquake at 3 am. The next day we learned that it had been a magnitude 4 earthquake. For those of you who have kept up with my summer are probably realizing that this is my second earthquake this summer. I think I’m cursed. On Thursday of camp we went on a five-hour rafting trip (the trip was not designed to be that long, but things happen). During the rafting we experienced some strong winds pushing us up stream. On several occasions the winds would blow us to the sides of the river and into trees. Finally, fire has been blazing all week of camp. From the day we arrived at camp till the end of camp we have been watching the smoke grow larger and larger from the wildfires blazing through the mountains near Lincoln, Montana.

But just as the verse says, God is not in these events. God is in the quiet. A camp with 8 rambunctious campers is rarely quiet. But there are times when we all focus on a meditation. Camp is a fun and exciting time, you get to see old friends and meet new ones, play games, swim in the river, and eat all the camp food; yet there needs to also be time for reflection. For many campers, this is the time they get away from family and friends and technology. To experience nature with people their age. I have really come to appreciate the silence this summer. Whether the silence is on a airplane or right before bed or in the shower, God is in that silence.

My NoCal Chill

After 4 weeks of camp living as an extrovert, this week I found myself retreating farther into a personal bubble. I like to tell people that I don’t have a personal bubble because typically I can talk to anyone and everyone—without problem.

But this week, I felt myself lacking some of the energy it takes to meet new people and get to know them well, and become friends. It has gotten much harder to connect with people when you know you might never see or hear from them again. Many moments I just wanted to be alone with silence.

And for some of you that know me well, this might be shocking! It surprised me as well. To my introvert friends you might comfortably sympathize with my desire for me time, but for some reason I feel ashamed to have wanted some me time. After all, I am being paid to travel, teach, and engage people in topics of justice and peace. Yet, I hit a wall—I broke and I chose some me time.

When I was alone I read, I watched Netflix, and I slept—I never really felt alone, but rather I just wanted to chill (which is ironic because it got close to 100 degrees in our cabin—not chill).

Wanting to chill is OK, but for some reason taking that me time is always going to be read as selfish. I’ve been reminded thousands of times about my generation being the ME generation, the generation of selfish wants, the Treat-Yo-Self generation—labels jam packed with stigma about how anti-social we are, and how little we care about others, and how it has killed our work ethic, blah, blah, blah.

I’m tired of hearing that kind of negative shit, so I am going to combat it here in hopes that it might challenge the binary of selfish/selfless and that I might reduce my own internalized shame associated with wanting to treat myself.

This topic came up in a small group this past week where I read the following quote from the 14th Dalai Lama:

“It is important that when pursing our own self-interest we should be ‘wise selfish’ and not ‘foolish selfish.’ Being foolish selfish means pursuing our own interests in a narrow, shortsighted way. Being wise selfish means taking a broader view and recognizing that our own long-term individual interest lies in the welfare of everyone. Being wise selfish means being compassionate.”

Now this is definitely not a call to treat yo self by any means, but it includes the idea that being selfish can be connected to a larger calling to be compassionate. The Dalai Lama links self-interests to the collective interest.

Therefore, I now feel justified about reading some books by the pool in Northern California—tough gig amirite? But in all honesty, I learned a lot from that self-reflection time that will benefit my overall work towards social justice. Which means that my selfish alone time might benefit me in the short term, but in the long term? In the long term those selfish, peaceful moments by the pool might make a world of difference in a longer trajectory towards justice.

Here are the books I devoured in while in Northern California, I would 11/10 recommend:

• Freedom is a Constant Struggle by Angela Davis

• Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

• This Bridge Called my Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color edited by Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua

Time Flies

This would have been up sooner, but the sometimes internet is hard to find.

People are great! I was certain, after leaving my home camp that it would take me my whole time at a camp to mix in among the campers, and be more than a voice that droned at them about peace and justice issues. It turns out that the everyone in both camps, Brownwood & Camp Chandler, (Love you guys!) are amazing as they immediately welcomed me and added me to their camp family. I later found out that most people thought I was also a camper initially... but it all worked out!I hear that I apparently have this neat little switch that makes me into a professional adult, and the rest of the time I blend in seamlessly with campers. Personally I don't see it since I am not only gigantic, but I'm also getting along in years; however, every camp to date has pointed that out so it's possible.

(Camp Chandler)

I brought out my new favorite workshop on values and idols for each of the camps, and I feel as though it had a good reception. So far no one has torn down the message I wanted them to take away, and there were several contemplative silences - at least that's what I hope they were. I felt as though many of the issues I discussed; such as, environmental justice/climate change, peace, normality, and environmental stewardship, were already known. There were actually some cases that a theme I was aiming for was so ingrained that campers jumped straight to the conclusion without any prompting from me. It was great and a little inconvenient.

(Brownwood)

On a side note I’d like to thank all the people that sent care packages and letters to the camps that I’ve been to.

Cow Tanking, Noodlin', and Earthquakes

Dear Reader, 

I am a horrible blogger and I apologize for that. In my defense for not posting blogs more frequently, I have been quite busy and internet at church camps is very limited, if you can believe that. I am currently at Chi Rho camp at Loch Leven in the Pacific Southwest Region. If you are an avid reader of the blog, aka my mother, then you might be thinking to yourself, “hey, wait! Isn’t this your second week at Loch Leven! Why do you get all the southern California sunshine!?” And, dear reader, you would be correct. My camp in Illinois didn’t workout and the people of Loch Leven and the Pacific Southwest Region were kind enough to let me stay another week! This week is a bit different than last week’s CYF 2. For starters, there are roughly 90 Chi Rho campers here. I would say that’s the largest difference. So, as I mark my halfway point of the summer, I have decided to spend this blog reflecting on the interesting things I’ve done.

Let’s start with Nebraska. Dear, sweet Nebraska. I met some of the nicest people during my time at Kaleo, but they made me do some strange stuff. Let’s talk about cow tanking. What is cow tanking you ask? Great question reader! Cow tanking is when you get into a large plastic cow tank that has had wood seats built in and you very slowly float down a river. I felt that I had really experienced the true Nebraska, but when we were pulled out of the river early because there was a storm coming and we all had to race back to Kaleo, that’s when I knew I had done Nebraska.

Now that I felt like a true corn husker, I moved on to Oklahoma, where the wind doesn’t sweep down the plains as much as I thought it might. You are probably thinking to yourself, what could possibly be your Oklahoma experience! You already had the tornado warnings in Nebraska! And you are right, dear reader. But during my time in good ol’ OK, I had the experience to witness a family noodlin’. What is that? Oh, it’s when you catch a catfish WITH YOUR HAND. Growing up in the desert, water is a foreign concept to me and I tend to avoid it at all costs. But after watching a family try and lure catfish out of their holes and wherever it is that catfish live, I have decided to totally swear off water forever.

Finally, we have reached my unique California experience. While it might not be unique to most Californians, it was a first for me. My first night at Loch Leven, when I was just waking from a peaceful sleep, an earthquake shook the building and my bunk. This was my first earthquake experience, so at first I thought I had dreamt it. It wasn’t until the camp manager asked the camp how we liked the earthquake this morning that I realized that was real. Now you might be thinking, Claire, what’s the big deal? California gets earthquakes all the time! And I hear you, but again, I direct you to my desert upbringing. The mountains in Albuquerque protect us from many natural phenomenons. When a tornado hit Washington, IL. my freshman year of college I remember not knowing what to do and sitting in the basement by myself for at least 20 minutes before others began to trickle down.

Being a Peace Intern has allowed me to experience things across the country that I might otherwise never have experienced and I am forever grateful that I get to say I have been cow tanking in Nebraska, I have seen noodlin’ in Oklahoma, and I lived through a California earthquake. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the summer has in store!

I Love Vespers

I just wrapped up my third camp of the summer and the counselors have arrived for my fourth camp. I have had some camp changes and will be spending a second week at Loch Leven with Chi Rho camp! CYF 2 just ended and I am left in awe of these amazing campers. I have had my ups and downs through every day, but something that I have come to love and appreciate deeply is nightly vespers. To see these youth coming together and organizing worship service for the rest of camp is already amazing, but for each vespers to be meaningful seems like an impossible task, but they have continuously blown me away.

Kamp Kaleo had vespers down by the fire every night. The setting alone was incredibly spiritual, a campfire on the bank of the lagoon next to a field that is filled with fireflies lighting up the night sky. That is an image I will always cherish. Family groups had the responsibility to plan the nightly vespers and that gave so much room for diversity. One night we wrapped string around our wrists in a unity circle to connect us all. Another night we all walked away with a rock from Kaleo, so that we might always remember the sacred place that is Kaleo. The clear Nebraska skies provided amazing stargazing. My favorite moment was after a vespers service myself and some of the other counselors were looking out on the field of fireflies and there was a deer prancing through the field. It was so amazing.

Texoma Christian Camp in Oklahoma gave me a beautiful night of vespers down by the lake followed by stargazing. Texoma was a mixture of CYF and Chi Rho campers, but we did most of our worships separately. I had the honor to watch some of the campers in my small group give testimony about being vulnerable and being able to see and hear God in those vulnerable moments. One night we had double communion because one of the interests groups had made the bread and grape juice but the small groups leading communion wanted to have strawberries and whipped cream. The joy and kindness that went along with each vespers at Texoma was something that I will cherish forever.

This past week at Loch Leven with CYF 2 I experienced some of the most thought out and thoughtful vespers. Each night was filled with personal testimony, group exercises, and amazing spiritual connections. One night we all stood on two cartons of eggs without the eggs breaking to show just how strong these eggs could be. Another night we all had our feet in the pool and lit our burdens on fire inside a metal bowl that floated on the water. Every family group was so thoughtful with everything that went into vespers, I was blown away every night.

This experience is amazing, but it can also be really hard and trying at times. There are days where I am so exhausted that I consider sleeping through breakfast. But ending every night with vespers brings me back to a place of calmness and clarity. Watching the campers come together to talk about the lesson of the day and to share in Gods splendor with one another keeps me going. I am so grateful that I get to see a different vesper every night because that is where I see God working through these amazing campers.

Indiana and Ohio: Building Emotional Room

Many apologies to those of you who were anticipating a blog post from me last week! When I left Bedford Christian Camp in Southern Indiana I was fairly emotionally drained. I wasn’t sure how I was feeling and what to do with many of the experiences and stories shared with me.

Many high schoolers I met have problems and hardships much deeper, and more real than many adults have. I heard stories of depression, drug abuse, and strained familial relationships (three very hard life experiences 16-year olds shouldn’t have to deal with).

As someone who hasn’t lived lives even remotely as stressful, I felt compelled to be empathetic, to listen, and to comfort. Yet, I’m no professional counselor or well versed in pastoral care. Which means, I was offering all I knew by listening and being present, but by listening I felt for them and for their struggles. I was unsure how to process hearing stories where many of these youth have felt so alone and hurt… I couldn’t give them advice or wisdoms from my experiences, I had no real way of taking away their pains—and they knew more than I did.

The youth weren’t going through the issues alone, they had counselors and doctors and pastors and parents and friends. But they were struggling with their spiritual relationships, their connection to a higher power or community. That is what camp gave them, and that is part of the power of camp. Community.

I’m not sure if I realized this until I was in Ohio, my home region, serving a camp that has transformed in so many different and beautiful ways over the past four years. I worked as secretary for the past three years at Camp Christian and I didn’t hesitate to volunteer for so many administrative needs during the week. Partially because I like to stay busy and feel needed, but partially because I was a little afraid to let myself be emotionally burnt out again. I had no problem volunteering to lead dances and songs and activities, my physically energy was replenishable. But my emotional stamina and patience was reaching max capacity.

Therefore, the more I stayed busy leading workshops, helping out in the nurse’s office, and helping facilitate dances, the less emotional energy I was expending.AND THEN, I had this liberating realization (brace yourself for its clichéd nature) that in an intentional community, we all have different gifts and talents. AND, those differences fill in the gaps where some of us lack. In Ohio, I was in need of pastoral care… and I received from some of my dearest role models in life. They allowed me to drown myself in work and stay busy and feel needed…and when I finally began to be OK? The other counselors and directors were there for me! They listened, they understood and they were empathetic. The same techniques I used when I didn’t know what I was doing.

Then, they affirmed me, they lifted me up, they appreciated me, and they humbled me. I felt spiritually rejuvenated and reinvigorated.So much so that when Friday’s worship service rolled around, I felt comfortable and willing to engage in prayer affirmations with campers. It was probably one of my best moments at camp this summer. I no longer felt too emotionally drained, I had built room for these youth, not by decompressing or forgetting other youth and hardships, but through a community that could help me fill in the gaps.

And just by praying with and affirming others, I finally felt emotionally free again—a feeling I hope I carry with me throughout the rest of the summer.

Sex Camp, WaKanDaHo Kentucky

Now before you get your panties in a bunch—sex camp is not what it sounds like.

Instead, the week is all about educating eighth graders about sex! Now, I was initially worried when I heard that I was being sent to Kentucky to talk about sex with eighth graders at a church camp. I conjured up terrifying visions of pastors preaching messages of abstinence and forcing young girls to take oaths over purity rings.

Once again, I could not have been more wrong. (Which seems to be a theme of the summer—proving my ignorant fears wrong).My week at WaKanDaHo could not have been any more lovely. I got to sit in small groups with 10 eighth graders and talk about human anatomy, pregnancy, contraception, STIs, dating, and relationships.Night one I quickly learned this camp was not what I expected as I heard youth shouting “PENIS” across a lake to a response of “VAGINA.”

Eighters’ Camp, as it is known, is all about allowing youth to talk about the taboo and often stigmatized details of sexual relations. Therefore, they were absolutely allowed to shout from the top of their lungs words like penis and vagina and vulva. (The only stipulation was that they needed to use the correct terms, not slang terms like the p-word).

And again on that first night, all my BS assumptions were rightfully corrected. Sarah, our keynoter explained that Just Say Know Ministries was not there to preach purity and abstinence, but instead give youth the knowledge to make better decisions in life. The goal wasn’t to get them to run off and have sex, but instead to teach them the merits of committed relationships and how to engage in behavior that is safe, for them and their partner.WHEW! Thank God I was wrong this time. A week condemning sex would have been hard for me.

Over the course of the week we had so many deep conversations where we were all able to share freely about our lives—especially our lives pertaining to our relationships. Personally, I felt so comfortable I shared parts of my life that I rarely talk about out loud for fear of judgement. The environment created in our small group was an oasis from reality, where none of us judged or felt awkward about deeply personal stuff.

It felt truly liberating, and I would love to carry that same oasis with me where ever I go this summer. I was inspired by Just Say Know Ministries and their dedication to filling in the gaps of sex education for youth around the country. Surprisingly, I found out that in Kentucky it is illegal to teach anything except abstinence in public schools throughout the state. Therefore, Eighters camp is the ONLY sex education many of these youth have ever had.

So, bless the courage it takes to fearlessly educate youth on such an uncomfortable topic, and bless the ability to openly discuss and talk about stigmatized topics. Our denomination is truly an exciting and dialogue producing place. I am thankful and proud.

P.S. The video included in this blog is a gift that I made with my small group. It is a gift to the camp attempting demonstrate what our week at Eighters looked like. It is silly, it might not make much sense, but it generated so much laughter, I couldn’t help but share. :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmornhk1Pko&feature=youtu.be

A-OK in OK

My summer as a nomadic advocate for peace and justice began two weeks ago. After a week of training at Disciples headquarters in Indianapolis, I left for the “land of the Red Man”—a name I find incredibly problematic, but not uncommon for the history of Oklahoma.

I landed in Tulsa where I was greeted by the wonderful Cassie Sexton-Riggs and her husband Michael Riggs. They filled me into the deeper, troubling history of Oklahoma’s past. They explained the brutal takeover of Native American lands for oil, disturbingly high numbers of Klans, Bible Belt super colleges, and that Tulsa was home to America’s deadliest race riots. Not to mention, they warned me that every single county in Oklahoma went red in the past election—needless to say issues of race and discrimination haven’t died.

Going into Chi Rho camp I was on edge. I was preparing myself for youth steeped in their parents’ ideology, made into mini brainwashed conservatives. I expected my workshops to get some heat and encounter some blatant prejudices.Boy, was I wrong.

Day one, I wore a pair of pink floral shorts, again expecting some judgements or hesitations. And I wore them on purpose to incite this sort of dialogue. Yet, the youth loved them.

In my workshop we talked about clothes, gender, and what is “normal.” Each time I talked with the youth, I was blown away by how open, non-judgmental and willing to accept others they were. Initially, I assumed that Chi Rho aged youth might be too young to really have true prejudices. But as the week went on, and as they described their hometowns and schools, I realized these youth at Chi Rho camp were the exception to my expectation. Without actually knowing it, these youth were aware of social justice.They knew that it was wrong to police gender roles, they knew that being gay is A-OK, they knew that racism is not normal, they knew that people around the world are denied justice on an everyday basis. My job as a justice educator quickly became easier. These youth schooled me in social justice, they wiped the court with me—in a good way.

I cannot believe how wrong I was about Oklahoma before I arrived, and I am so glad I was wrong. I was guilty of exactly the injustice that I was preaching against. I readily judged, expected, and guarded myself against people that I have never met. I was scared of being rejected by a red state, so I prepared to fight for what I believed in.

It so happened to turn out that I didn’t have to argue or fight with a single counselor, camper, or staff person. We were all on the same page. I never asked about party affiliation or voting records—that didn’t matter to me. What I care about was how we could unite our voices for justice, and surely we did!

Like I said, the Chi Rho campers schooled me. They are internet savvy animals. Name any meme and they would know it. Name any Vine, and they probably could quote it. Name any injustice? Well, they probably read about it on Tumblr. YES! They actually read about how the world works on Tumblr!

Not only was I expecting these youth to be miniature versions of their parents’ beliefs, I expected at school or church they would learn rhetoric that supports systematic injustice.

Instead, they experience the world almost entirely through the internet. One camper told me, “When the kids at school are close minded and exclusive, I go online and chat with my friends in San Francisco, New York, Chicago.” Despite living in small or rural towns, the youth of this new generation can experience urban and city experiences too. These campers are probably more connected to the world than I am, and it humbled me.

This whole week in Oklahoma humbled me. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, and I thought I knew who these people were…and I was wrong, wrong, wrong. My mind and heart were opened all over again. I’m so deeply thankful for experiences like this that helped rewrite my perceptions of what this country looks like. Our nation is not as divided as we like to think, and that gives me so much hope for the future.

And so it begins.

I have never created a blog before. As a result, these first few entries may be a little rough. You have been warned.

This will likely be the fastest slow moving summer that I have ever encountered. I made it through my first camp with less trouble than I had expected, and more laughter than I had anticipated. For some reason I had the impression that being a peace intern meant that I would spend my week walking around with a solemn face while lecturing campers on current world issues. It turns out that I forgot that deep down a peace intern is just a name give to a person. I'm just myself with a nice title attached. I find it amazing that I can continually overlook such a simple concept.

So coincidently the first camp that I interacted happened to be my my home camp. Actually it wasn't a coincidence, but that is neither here nor there. It turns out that making workshops that are absolutely flawless on paper come out that way in real life is difficult. With a minimum of blind flailing I am walking away with a good experience and even better memories. I firmly believe that in the coming weeks I will become better at my role and will learn something new from each of the camps that I visit.I hope to always have something to take with me to mark the time spent in each camp as an intern.

^From the AZ DoC youth

I am uncertain how to end blogs so I'll just cut it off here.Blessings,RJ