For many years, social activists and academics have pontificated on the role that anger plays in the pursuit of social justice. Is it possible that until injustice leads to an escalation of anger, the status quo will be maintained? Do we really have to get angry to be in a position to make a difference? And once we are fired up and ready to make a difference, is it the people with the most anger who can make the greatest impact?
There are no absolute answers to these questions. However, it is clear that anger has its place in the process of social change.
In honor of World AIDS Day, marked on December 1 each year, I wanted to share some words from an activist who was energized by his anger and was able to make a difference. Often, activists hide their anger for fear that it may negatively affect the outcomes they are trying desperately to achieve. But sometimes, anger cannot be hidden – and perhaps it shouldn’t be.
Charles “Chuck” Selber, a Jewish man from Shreveport, Louisiana, didn’t keep his anger inside. He wrote a play, countless letters, and newspaper articles as he repeatedly tried to explain—never defend—the anger that he embodied as an AIDS activist in the 1980s. Chuck was one of three individuals who founded ACT-UP (Aids Coalition to Unleash Power). In a letter Chuck wrote to his dad in 1990, he stated “ACT-UP has succeeded because of people who are angry and because of people who get mad.”
In the 1980s there was no shortage of reasons for someone living with HIV/AIDS to be angry. Chuck’s mom, Flo Selber, explained to me that in all of Shreveport, there was only one pharmacy that sold AZT (then the only “cocktail” for treating HIV/AIDS). Dentists would not take patients with AIDS. Their ophthalmologist would only see Chuck after office hours, when other patients wouldn’t know about it. Regarding medicine, Chuck wrote “We won’t allow toxic poisons into our community. We don’t want gangs or drug pushers or neo-Nazis in Shreveport. Why don’t we want life-saving medicine?”
Chuck Selber passed away December 22, 1991 at the young age of 43. One of the many obituaries published at the time of his death provides a glimpse of the reach Chuck had during his short life: “There is hardly an effort in this community involving AIDS victims that did not bear the imprint of Mr. Selber’s activism.”
Anger, it seems, was one of the tools he used to raise awareness and find his voice. In honor of World AIDS Day, and with permission from Chuck’s mother, Flo Selber, we are going to share two more blog posts with excerpts from Chuck’s play, In Defense of the Committee.
Though World AIDS Day is today, throughout the month of December this social justice topic will be explored deeply, through Chuck’s words and legacy of righteous indignation at a world not willing to grant him the help and dignity he deserved.
On World AIDS Day, how is your community acknowledging the impact AIDS continues to have on the world? Are there specific injustices that make you angry, and if so, how do you channel your anger?
Last week, I spent an incredible three days at a conference with lots of Jewish social justice professionals, activists and advocates. The timing of the event was perfect for Hanukkah … and here’s why!
Convened by the Jewish Social Justice Roundtable, at the conference I met lots of incredible people doing very inspiring work. Resources were shared and important conversations continued. Helping to make the world a better place is truly a gift, and while we were on the subject of gifts and only days from Hanukkah, I wanted to share one resource I learned about, the one that is just perfect for the holiday season: Fair Trade Judaica, gifts “crafted with Jewish values.”
Fair Trade Judaica has lots of incredible Jewish gifts, and the great thing is that they are all Fair Trade Products! From guilt-free gelt to hand-dipped candles, I was inspired and reminded that where we buy, matters. This holiday season, as we give gifts to our loved ones, a wonderful way to recall the literal meaning of the word Hanukkah, “dedication,” is to re-dedicate ourselves to all the ways in which we can further justice and make life better for all.
You can also find great gift ideas from MyJewishLearning.com (including Southern & Jewish items) and support all the learning, information, ideas, and resources you find here on this site. That’s a double-gift, as well—something for your loved ones, purchased in a way that supports something you appreciate year-round.
Where you spend your money matters. Each of us has an opportunity to make a difference with every purchase. Happy Hanukkah, y’all!
Now that the Jewish fall holidays have been celebrated, I have had some time to reflect on some of the meaningful moments of late summer and early autumn. This musing was inspired in part by a coworker, who sent me a screenshot of our Facebook page, showing the interesting juxtaposition of a picture of me and my fellow clergy speaking in Jackson… with a picture of another preacher and another rabbi preparing to speak to a crowd 50 years ago.
August marked the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington. All around the United States, the diverse people that continually make this nation so great gathered to celebrate and remember that momentous day through song and prayer, through words and fellowship. I was part of the celebration here in Jackson. As I stood on the steps of the Mississippi Capitol, beside my friend and fellow Mississippi clergyman Bishop Ronnie Crudup, to honor the steps that had been made and those still remaining in the march towards true equality, I pondered that day from 50 years ago.
What would it have felt like to stand before the gathered assembly of 250,000? What exchanges may have taken place between those who waited to speak? Did Dr. Rabbi Yoachim Prinz say anything to Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. as Prinz warmed up the crowd to hear King’s dream?
Given the collective spirit of God’s will present that day, they must have. For it was that same spirit that brought me and Bishop Crudup together this summer.
“I remember the original March,” Bishop Crudup shared. “I was seven and my mother was active in the Civil Rights Movement.”
“Aren’t you frustrated then that – as a society – we haven’t covered much ground?” I asked. “After all, right here in Mississippi, we’re still miles away from reaching a state in which every citizen – regardless of race or religion, gender or sexual orientation – has equal access to the same opportunities.”
Bishop Crudup grew reflectively silent. Then he said something I’ll never forget: “You may not see it. But, from the vantage point of my years, I do. You and I can stand together, dine together, work together. So, the work of changing laws is over; what remains is the challenge of changing hearts and minds.”
I nodded, knowing that this task was going to be as – if not more – difficult than the first task. But those who marched on Washington are passing us the baton. If we wish to move our society forward we can no longer simply march on Washington; we must also march over to our neighbors, and continue these important conversations.