No Justice, No Peace The global-service learning trip to Tijuana, Mexico is embedded in the course, "Global Border Crossing." Originally, the course was called "Justice Across Borders" because the trip and the course and so intertwined with social justice issues of the past and present. To me, social justice does not mean equality. I believe that this would ignore the fact that we are not starting on equal ground. Rather, social justice is peering into the past, it is looking at the history of a people or place and digesting what it means for that group today. My working definition of social justice is making reparations for historical occurrences and injustices and moving forward towards liberation. Social justice is recognizing the humanity in each person, acknowledging their past and ensuring that their future allows them to live freely. Freely, meaning, that their ideals can become a reality. To me, social justice is not a noun, rather, it is a verb. There are sorries to be said. There are apologies to write for degrading humans to "less than". And there are promises to be made to do better, to be better as an individual, as a community and a human race. My definition of social justice implies a starting off point for working towards the restoration of all communities' sense of humanity, rights and possibilities. We must strive for this world. A world in which Rosa, in Tijuana, can book a flight to the United States. A world in which you do not accept less money than you deserve for a job because you are not "man enough" or "legal enough" for the company's definition of a hard worker. A world in which no houses must be built for the poor because they have the knowledge to save and build for themselves. We are getting there. But it can only be achieved together. This is a world in which the color of someone's skin, their sexual organs or the country they were randomly born in do not dictate how they are treated or who they can be. And yet, this is not a colorblind world, rather, it is filled with more color than you can imagine. Instead of ignoring it or beating it, the world embraces the color and paints with each crayon in the box. Although this is how I define social justice right now, I know that it may ebb and flow as I have much more to learn.
The right to mobility is not ensured to all people, however, it is necessary for securing all other human rights. Article 13 of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights (UDHR) states: “Every person has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country”. This means that all people have the right to leave and return to their own country, but not necessarily to travel elsewhere. This is not true for all people. Right now, as an American, I have the ability to travel practically anywhere that I wish to go. All it takes is a passport and a plane. Because of my “accident of birth,” I was born into a country that has the privilege to express its right of mobility throughout other countries. In the Innes article, “States in a World of Asylum Seekers: Agency, Rights, Security", she discusses Ardent’s argument that we have “the right to have rights.” Mobility is arguably the right needed to express all other rights. Golash-Boza and Menjivar wrote that migrants often travel to fulfill their human needs. People often argue that all humans should have the right to basic necessities, such as clean water, food and education. However, before these basic needs can be considered, we must first recognize that people often must travel for these basic human rights to be in reach. My idea of social justice has been completely shaped by my family. My father was teargassed in Washington D.C. while protesting the Vietnam War and returned again to protest the invasion of Cambodia. He later hitch hiked to Woodstock Music Festival. Therefore, I grew up in a house of Bob Dylan and James Taylor. There was never a discussion of if you would stand up for what was right, but rather, how far you would go. When I was ten, my global perspective was broadened through a trip with my family to the Dominican Republic for an eye-care mission. This opportunity, born out of my own privilege, opened my eyes to what extreme poverty looked like. I never thought the same again. My many, many siblings also had a key role in shaping who I am today. Since I was born, my older brothers and sisters have instilled in me a progressive and an analytical mindset. I was taught that Barbie Dolls sexualized women and Power Rangers were unnecessarily violent. Although my older siblings played a huge role in shaping who I am, it was actually my younger siblings that had the largest impact. My mother, who never thinks of putting herself first, said "yes" when I asked for a little brother and opened our home to three more beautiful children. When we adopted my younger brother Tyrone, I was smacked in the face with the realities of racism and the power of "accidental birth". Inequality and unfairness were no longer just words to me, they became actions and tangible emotions. Once these social justice issues became deeply personal to me and those I love so dearly, there was no question that I would wage a war against these injustices throughout my life. I came to the realization that where someone is born, or who they are born to, does not dictate who they are or what family they belong in. Just as it was by chance that Tyrone, Delianah and Damien became a piece of my heart and family, it is also by chance that other individuals are not a part of my family, community, college and nation. Therefore, my brothers and sisters could theoretically be anyone in the world. There is a larger family that I am a part of and it encompasses the entire human race. I have a commitment and responsibility to my global community and every brother and sister that exists within it. These values were in the back of my mind as I flashed my powerful passport and walked across the U.S.-Mexico border into the sticky air of Tijuana, Mexico. |