The Center for Justice and Renewal unequivocally stands for the liberation and flourishing of all oppressed people. As a Black-led justice organization, we firmly reject colonialism, imperialism, occupation, apartheid, and genocide in all their forms. We stand in solidarity with the most vulnerable communities whether their plight is highly publicized or not. 

Everything we do at the Center for Justice + Renewal is in service to sustainable justice advocacy whether it be local or global. We believe that everyone has a role to play in our collective liberation – and now more than ever, the world needs resilient justice leaders. As such, during this extraordinarily difficult moment in the human story, we remain committed to our mission to sharpen justice leaders’ understanding of the social realities that maintain injustice while also stimulating the soul’s enormous capacity to resist and transform those realities.

 

“I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.” – Audre Lorde

I recently spoke with a young NYC-based woman who was so heart-broken and disgusted by the state-sanctioned anti-Palestinian violence in Gaza that she vowed to boycott all conversations and interactions with her numerous colleagues and family members who unilaterally support Zionism. While I can empathize with her pounding pain and feelings of betrayal, I encouraged her to reconsider the boycott and instead lean in to her community during this crucial time. After all, one reason we’re facing this disastrous series of events is  because anti-colonial, anti-apartheid, anti-genocide activists who share work and community spaces with Zionist-leaning people have failed to do the hard justice work of maintaining relationship with them and facilitating difficult, persuasive conversations with them. 

 

A quick glance at the 2020 U.S. electoral college map illuminates the echo chambers across the country; thanks to social media silos, so many U.S. and global citizens are primarily surrounded by people who share their political and social views. This makes sense: many of us know the pain of interacting with community members who are unaware of the systemic injustices that plague our society. But rather than working to make them aware, we often flee to progressive online spaces, where we are free to share our truths without immediate backlash or any backlash at all. Within our political enclaves, we rarely have meaningful conversations with people who see the world through a different lens. We rarely truly hear their perspective, and we rarely engage in the difficult justice work of moving the needle in our real-life (IRL) communities. 

 

So many of us are walking through the Palestinian human rights crisis, knowing that many of our family members, colleagues and community members view the situation differently than we do. Perhaps they are unabashedly Zionist, or perhaps they aren’t but nevertheless seem unbothered by the genocide occuring in Gaza. Either way, they aren’t lamenting, they aren’t aware of what’s at stake, they aren’t aghast at the injustices that are taking place,, and they certainly aren’t answering the various calls to join in the fight for justice. Rather than avoiding them, or pledging to steer clear of all political talk among community members, why not see it as an opportunity to build bridges and labor for justice?

 

It’s relatively easy to post on social media, but most justice work happens on the ground, rooted in community among imperfect humans. From Teresa of Avila to Thich Nhat Hanh to MLK, Jr. to Abraham Heschel to Malcolm X, social activists from a variety of traditions show us that the most effective and sustainable pathway to justice is one that is steeped in love and not fear, one that is powered by skillful, strategic action rather than undisciplined reaction.

When we talk about Resilient Justice Leadership, this is what we mean. At the Center for Justice + Renewal, we understand that many justice leaders desire to facilitate these courageous conversations, but are unsure how to go about it. Indeed, those of us who spend time with community members who view the Palestinian crisis (or any other justice crisis) differently need a holistic plan for conversation, connection and advocacy. As leaders who often facilitate and participate in difficult conversations (including within our IRL communities), we have some field-tested tips to share with you.

 

Let’s face it. If your parents are Zionist, they’re unlikely to humbly listen to anything that a Palestinian would have to say. If your colleagues are Islamophobic, they’re probably not going to know the story of your Muslim co-worker. If your clergy person thinks Israel should build a bigger fence along the Gaza border, she probably doesn’t know any Palestinian refugees. If you recently completed our free Discerning Your Innate Justice Leadership Gifts program, you know that at the Center for Justice + Renewal, we are huge proponents of what we call peer power relationships. In other words, we believe that a crucial cornerstone of justice leadership involves learning to speak truth to and influence the people who possess approximately the same amount of social power as you do. For example, white people are power peers with other white people, middle-class people are power peers with other middle-class people, and documented citizens are power peers with other documented citizens. 

 

Justice leaders often bypass advocacy work among their power peers because, frankly, it’s uncomfortable. But research on extended contact theory shows that among all power groups, we are most effective at persuading our power peers, especially when we are trying to get people to change their attitudes and behaviors toward a lower social power group.  For example,  all other things being equal – Pro-Palestinian wealthy white people are more likely to effectively influence their wealthy Zionist neighbors, anti-colonial colleagues are more likely to effectively influence colonial colleagues, anti-Islamaphobia Christians are more likely to effectively influence Islamaphobic Christians, etc. When we identify our own social location, we also identify our power peers, the people who are most likely to be influenced by us. 

At the Center for Justice + Renewal, we maintain that everyone has a leadership role to play in the universal cause for liberation. One of your roles is identifying your power peers and boldly and skillfully facilitating conversations with them.

 

Once we’ve been on the justice journey for a while, it’s easy to forget that we haven’t always been on it. Because I (Christena) like to feel good about myself (especially during times of instability like right now), I love to think that I’ve always been as socially-aware as I am now. But that’s not true. Over the course of my life I’ve been ignorant, internalized oppressive ideology, hurt marginalized people, and resisted self-examination. Nevertheless, there were gracious people there all along the way who were willing to challenge me by vulnerably sharing their stories, answering my offensive questions, and speaking truth to me. I wouldn’t be where I am without them. So before I head into difficult conversations, I take a few minutes to journal about the people who have been my guides along the way. It’s empowering and humbling for me to remember my journey as I seek to catalyze other people’s journeys.

 

At the CJR, we love Rabbi Abraham Heschel’s The Sabbath. Before rest was in vogue, the great social justice activist wrote one of the best books on rest and restoration, and it is such a luscious and beautiful classic. Rabbi Heschel knew that activism and rest are intimately intertwined. We can only love well when we feel loved and energized. We all know how stressful and energy consuming difficult conversations and interactions can be. So while you plan intentional time for confronting conversations, also plan to take time off for restoration. Plan ahead and  build your Sabbath into your schedule. Some ideas: a 20 minute walk to breathe deeply into fresh air, a couple of hours at a coffee shop reading one of your favorite books, or a night out with friends who know, love and affirm you well.

 

We are not invincible; we cannot continually enter into difficult conversations unless we are clothed in an armor of love. One of my spiritual teachers often uses the term spiritual strength training as a reminder that our spiritual practices make us stronger and more resilient; they help us to seek justice from a place of love and not fear, to see the humanity and dignity in ourselves and others, and to cope with pain and difficulty in healthy ways. When I’m heading into a particularly challenging interaction I amp up my spiritual strength training. Practices that strengthen me include:

Rather than planning to launch shaming justice grenades on your community members, spend time preparing to strategically and vulnerably share your story with them. I’ve found that personal story-telling is one of the most effective ways to awaken people to justice and guide them along. Stories can create space for common understanding and unsurprisingly are typically better received than soapbox speeches. As your prepare, consider the ways in which you have empathized with your community members’ current perspective and experiences (e.g., “I remember growing up in this town and not knowing any Muslims”); think about the events or relationships that catalyzed your passion for justice (e.g., “In college, my roommate was Muslim and I took a class on Islam.”); recall the emotions (pain, shame, anxiety, anger, defiance, etc.) that you experienced during the catalyst (e.g., “At first, I felt afraid when I met my roommate. Then I felt shame for being prejudiced so I wanted to retreat into my pre-existing friendships.”). And think about the path you’ve been on ever since — the challenges, joys, spiritual fulfillment, connectedness to humanity, etc. Once you’ve prepared your story, identify the community member who is most likely to at least try to hear it and boldly ask for their ear. See where the conversation takes you. (Not sure how to begin crafting your unique justice story? We’ve created a free, self-paced program – Uncovering Your Race Story –  just for you.)

 

We often plant seeds. My friend Greg has spent the last twelve years trying to love his bigoted parents unconditionally while simultaneously trying to help them see their bigotry. He refused to give up -- relentlessly sharing stories and film, listening to their fears, appealing to their ideology, inviting them into his journey, apologizing for his self-righteousness, and forgiving himself when he made mistakes. After years of almost no evidence of change, his mom surprised him by posting a pro-Black Lives Matter article in her FB newsfeed and entreating her friends to read it with an open mind. Since then, he’s seen substantial change in his mom’s heart and actions. “We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise” (from A Prayer of Oscar Romero by Ken Untener).

 

You’re wonderfully imperfect. The pain, fear and anxiety that you are experiencing right now is human and justified. You’re not always going to respond to it perfectly. Give yourself permission to be an imperfect leader and to do imperfect justice work.

 

 

 

Everything we do at Center for Justice + Renewal is in service to sustainable justice leadership whether it be local or global. We hope that these tips energize you and support your resilient justice leadership with respect to Palestine and all other justice crises. No matter where you focus your advocacy, you are welcome at the Center for Justice + Renewal and we are glad you are here.  

 

With love and peace,

Christena Cleveland

Director