By: Will Young
As part of writing a story for the San Antonio People Project, I recently sat down to talk with my neighbors, Mrs. Dixie and Mr. Robert. My wife and I have shared a yard and driveway with these neighbors for a whole year, and I am embarrassed to say that up until that point I had not gotten to know them very well. Over the course of our conversation I found out that they both had experienced hardships I never would have imagined. Robert had served in Korea, both had lost their fathers at a young age in tragic accidents, both had lived through times when money was short and work long, and at one point their home had burned to the ground. Despite all the trials they had walked through, most days they seemed less tired than I felt. They are indeed remarkable people, and I never knew how remarkable they were until I sat down and listened to what they had to say.
Remembering back a little further to my interview with Dr. Maryam Elmi, a surgical oncologist and clinical researcher at UT Health San Antonio, I again find the theme of “struggle.” As a medical student, it is so easy to forget that all of the doctors you see every day had their own journeys to medicine, and those journeys were long and trying for them just as they are for my classmates and myself today. Many of those physicians (Dr. Elmi included) are so skillful that it is hard to imagine them ever having struggled or continuing to struggle to reach their positions today, but the reality of that struggle remains, whether we as onlookers are aware of it or not.
In the eye of the coronavirus hurricane, my family recently infected me with an obsession, and that obsession is the Broadway musical “Hamilton.” Again, we find an account of personal struggle in the midst of the larger-scale struggle for a new nation. As we all know, that nation would continue to struggle, and here we are, nearly 250 years later, still struggling.
“Father…cousin…son…uncle… a human life, just like every single one of y’all.” These are a few of the words Jacob Blake’s sister used to describe her brother. I will not pretend to understand the struggle Blake’s family has experienced and will experience. I will not pretend to understand the struggle of my Black colleagues as they have grappled with grief upon grief. I certainly do not pretend to change anything by writing these few words: if what has already been said by others has not produced meaningful change, I am not so naïve as to expect it to proceed from here.
That said, I think it is worth remembering that struggle is universal. Those who have gone before us have faced sadness and hardship, and we will continue to face sadness and hardship. Struggle is a basic feature of human existence. What will I eat? Where will I live? Will I be loved? Will I get that job? Am I in danger? Will they make it home? What if I’m wrong? Why am I here? All human wrestle with these questions on some level with variable frequency, consciously or not. No one is exempt, whether rich or poor, powerful or powerless, one race or the other. I do not intend to discount the challenges that any particular person or group has experienced, but perhaps this universality of struggle can provide some measure of comfort in recognizing that shared human experience. However, as the brutality experienced by Jacob Blake and his unfortunate forerunners illustrate, some in our society seem to experience this universal struggle with tragically increased frequency than others, with comforts few and far between.
There are not often easy solutions to the struggles we observe around us, but I think that the universality of struggle offers a fairly simple choice regarding how to respond. The first is the small, selfish voice that says, “but I’ve struggled too.” This is the voice that asks to be understood before understanding, that still seeks acceptance yet unachieved, that puts the self at the center rather than others. Unfortunately, the universality of struggle provides the grain of truth that inwardly justifies this destructive mentality and makes a person unable to reach out to the “other” in a time of need. If taken to completion, this mode of thinking will also blind us to the experiences of others, and we will all be worse off as a result.
The second choice is a recognition that the sufferings of another in no way negate one’s own struggles, that there is no need to feel threatened by helping another feel safe, and that there is no such thing as wasted effort when it comes to caring for another human being. At the end of the day, the height of being healed is leaving your own struggles behind to bear those of another. We may not always agree on how problems are best addressed (or even what those problems are). We may not always agree on foundational, dearly held beliefs, and hopefully that is okay. There remain many struggles yet to be had, but no one has to be excluded or alone.
Maybe try talking to your neighbors and really listen to what they have to say. You may learn something interesting, but at the very least you will have the privilege of giving another human being the opportunity to experience the feeling of someone really caring about who they are: a human person with struggles, essentially like you, just different in particulars.
Note: For more on the theme of struggle, my friend Nasrullah recently wrote a piece titled, Black in America: A Constant Struggle. It is well worth a read if you have not seen it yet, and can be found here: https://sapeopleproject.org/black-in-america/