What would Jimmy do?

A good question for a Friday

When my kids were small, my dad got in the habit on their birthdays and other holidays of giving them money in three envelopes. He’d instruct them to use one to buy or do things they wanted, save one for the future, and give one away to someone who needed it.

It was a noble idea, and likely not as successful as he hoped. Not because my kids weren’t caring or compassionate, or down for whatever random thing they got roped into by someone they loved, but because of me. His hope for them required things of me (helping them understand, choose their sharing recipient, and then making that sharing happen) that as an overwhelmed mom of young kids, I couldn’t find any space to accommodate. (Nor had he consulted with me before he did it so I could prepare myself.) So, despite his best hopes, the whole thing fell flat.

Still, the lesson about sharing what you have wasn’t entirely lost. On me, anyway. Though my current income is not enormous by any means, I always make space in my monthly budget for recurring contributions. They have a three-fold aspect, too. I contribute to something local, something national, and something international. Locally, I support my neighborhood community center (Southside Pride!). They host a polling station, a food pantry, an afterschool program, yoga and dance classes, and a free pet clinic. They’re also an historical hub of the Black community in my county, hosting Kwanzaa celebrations, a Juneteenth festival, and a summer camp focused on music, art, and activism.

Nationally, I support the Poor People’s Campaign, led by the Reverend Bishop Dr. William Barber, who has taken up the mantle from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. In the last years of his life, King was most concerned with building solidarity between all poor people regardless of race or religion, which was a large part of why he was assassinated. Class solidarity is fundamentally threatening to the economic and racial status quo in this country.

Now, the Campaign is on the ground in poor communities across the country, helping local people organize to fight for labor and environmental protections, and against the targeting of immigrants, women, disabled, and queer people, militarism, and violence. They are working steadily to reclaim the moral narrative from the Religious Right, and to lift up new leaders from diverse backgrounds.

Internationally, I support World Central Kitchen. There is no other organization that mobilizes so effectively to feed and care for people in crisis across the globe, whether because of conflict or natural disaster. They employ local people wherever they go, honoring local customs and foodways.

WCK is already on the ground in Southern California, caring for the thousands displaced by the wildfires, which is actually why I was thinking of all this. My dad was from southern California. He grew up in San Bernardino, and as a young adult hunted forest fires in the San Jacinto Mountains for the California Forest Service.

When I was a kid, we would visit my grandparents in San Bernardino and later Redlands, always fitting in a trip to Disneyland. Every Christmas they would send us boxes of citrus and kiwis to remind us of sunshine. I’m an East Coast girl down to my bones (and Southern in my heart), so the deserts and canyons, beaches and palm trees of SoCal never captivated my imagination. But family and love were there, which was what mattered.

Like many of us in far flung places, I’m struggling to wrap my head around what is happening there now and what, if anything, I can do. Garrett Bucks, a member of our community and a fantastic writer, offered a beautiful meditation on mutual aid in L.A., as well as a host of links, in his newsletter this week. If you, like me, are wondering how to help, I’d encourage you to check it out:

How do you love your neighbors when your houses are on fire?

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In the face of this horror being visited on southern California, I’ve also found myself meditating on the legacy of President Jimmy Carter, who is laying in state this week in the U.S. Capitol Building. Many have memorialized him since his death in late December, though I think the Bitter Southerner published the best reflection on his legacy when Jimmy was still in hospice care in October.

It seems like such a tragic irony that so many are memorializing Jimmy just as the effects of climate change, which he was the first president to concern himself with, are being so tragically experienced. Though it’s certainly not for the first time. Fires, hurricanes, and floods have drastically increased in their frequency in recent years and most of our leaders have actively resisted the changes called for to effectively combat the climate change which is escalating them. Where would we be now, if they had all heeded Jimmy more than forty years ago?

Jimmy was, to my mind, the best of us. He modeled integrity, spoke truth, and focused his ambition not on personal advancement but on improving the world for others. He was not perfect, anymore than anyone is, but he was unwavering in his faith and determination to live it out into the world. He was a man who walked with humility, saw no distinction between himself and other people regardless of race, religion, background or station, and never hesitated to get his hands dirty in service to others.

In that way, he was very like my dad.

In the wake of a rash of racially-motivated church burnings in the South in the early 90s, my dad dropped everything and moved to Boligee, Alabama, to host and organize volunteers to rebuild Black churches. After that, he led volunteers in collaborative building efforts in Romania and East Africa. I don’t doubt that if he were still alive and capable today, he’d be on the first plane back to southern California to offer himself to what will likely be a long rebuilding effort there.

And just like when my kids were small and my dad was trying to prod them to develop a sense of obligation to others, I feel guilty that I can’t meet this moment in exactly the way my dad would want. I know that my regular contributions, small as they may be, to those organizations and causes I care about matter, but they’re not enough. We have to offer our time and bodies to the work.

However, I also think “the moment” is much larger and longer, the challenge before us much broader, than the horror being visited on L.A. right now. The challenge is to reinvigorate our community bonds wherever we are, so that when trouble comes for us and our neighbors (which it will) we are already deep in the work of caring for each other.

“[L]et us remember,” Garrett writes, “wherever we live, that this moment is very likely to come our way as well. It may not be a fire. It may be a blizzard or an earthquake or a collapsed bridge. And in that moment, we too will be called to be neighbors. And goodness I hope we step up. But even more so, I hope that we are better able to do so because we have already been tending and plowing and watering the seeds of community long before the flames and waves come our way. We can keep each other safe, but only if we are truly a we to each other in the first place.”

At his memorial yesterday, Jimmy Carter’s grandson, Jason, spoke about the work Jimmy did to eradicate the disease of Guinea worm worldwide, which devastated the lives of millions of people when he began. He noted that the disease can’t be eradicated through medicine, it could only be eliminated “by neighbors talking to neighbors about how to collect water in the poorest and most marginalized villages in the world.” Mutual aid was the answer, in other words. Or what Jason Carter referred to as “love and respect.”

Over the course of years, through encouraging love and respect, Jimmy and his teams, in collaboration with local people worldwide, brought Guinea worm infections down from 3.5 million cases annually to four.

I can’t imagine a better example of what is possible, and what we need, in the face of this long and terribly challenging moment— connection, mutual aid, love, and respect. It works, y’all. It just works.

What would Jimmy do, indeed.

So, tell me. Tell us. What organizations and causes are near and dear to you? What are you doing in your community? Whatever it is, it matters and I want us all to cheer you on and support your work if we are able.

And if you’re in southern California, please tell us what you need. We take care of each other here.

XO,

Asha