I was sitting at dinner one night with a Norwegian woman I had just met. A regular globetrotter, she was telling stories about the places she'd lived and the people she'd met. And, of course, the crazy, beautiful, disconcerting process of having all of your assumptions turned right on their heads. She also talked about the Americans she'd met, some of them even foreign service officials, who would immediately declare something to the effect of, this president isn't my president. The kind of disclaimer that says, I promise, I'm not that American.
And while I heartily reject the notion that this president isn't my president -- I wish he wasn't, but that's another post for another site -- I can certainly understand their need to declare that they aren't
that kind of American. I laughed that traveling in Europe after our failure to ratify the
Kyoto Protocol, our invasion of Iraq and our extrajudicial extracurriculars at Guantanamo, I was really tempted to wear a tee shirt saying "I'm sorry". This Norwegian woman said, you know, you shouldn't feel that you have to apologize for who you are (she kindly ignored the reality that I also probably shouldn't be publicly reinterpreting a U2 video).
Of course she's right, and I would no more apologize for being an American than I would for being short. It is who I am and how I experience the world. Everything I do or think or believe is either in line with or in opposition to my fundamentally American identity. The challenge, though, is in being the American that I want to be.
In many ways it's like what this site and this movement does -- attempting to reclaim the language of Christianity to mean something other than damagingly homogeneic, if not just damaging, "social values". It's attempting to find space in that language, co-opted as it may be, for connections that matter and, if we're lucky, that heal.
I think the antidote to all of the power and the bullshit that separates us, admittedly leaving some of us far more privileged than others, is relationship. The ability to stand together in something that matters, in some project that heals. Whether it's "speaking truth to power" or helping to rebuild someone's house, development should be about experiencing our shared humanity, not just succeeding in some sustainability calculation.
Unfortunately, like many people, I'm very good at saying idealistic things in writing, then keeping my mouth scared shut when the rubber hits the road. Because in zones of conflict, development is not just about building things, it's also about tearing them down. And tearing them down comes with some serious risks.
And it's not that they're being rabble-rousers or blowholes who love their own rhetoric. They're doing it because it is who they are. It's the only way they can make sense of their own
identity.
It's time to stop saying sorry. But it's also time to be the best of who we are.