On Morality and Feeding a Hungry Child

First off the bat I think it’s important to make a distinction between “hungry” and “starving”. Hunger is a discomfort that poses no immediate threat to the well being of the individual. Starving is of course a much more serious and potentially deadly condition. I believe there is a moral imperative to feed a starving individual if possible, and hope that even the strictest non-interventionalist would agree with me. But this is not about starvation; I don’t know nor have I known anybody who is starving in Uganda, so hopefully we can avoid that cliché Sunday morning infomercial mindset.  This is about hunger, and exploring the appropriateness of feeding a hungry child.

I’m not sure why David (name changed) took so much of a liking to me last year, a liking that has carried over to the present. I paid him no more attention than any other participant of our program, save for the necessity that suddenly arrived when he became attached to me. David is a boy of around 12, slightly immature for his age with abandonment and security issues. He is an outcast amongst children near his own age, which has led to his role of leader around children half his age who are too young to reject him. Throughout the months I’ve learned bits and pieces about his life: A mother nowhere to be found and a father perpetually too drunk to recognize his own son; an uncle who provides when he can, which is rare; homes that welcome him for a few days before throwing him back on the street for lack of money to feed him.

To be blunt and possibly cruel, I feel no connection to David. A lack of childhood nurture has left him clingy, and his social immaturity manifests itself in issues most children his age can easily handle. None of this is his fault, of course, and he should not be blamed for behavior that came about as a result of parental neglect. I do my best to engage David when I can, but with 30 other children that need attention, it’s hard to handle him when he begins to cry because his favorite pair of boots is being used by another child.

Earlier tonight David was waiting outside as my roommate and I walked out of a local restaurant. He quickly grabbed me by the hand, and as we walked down the hill toward my house he lifted my arm to put around his shoulder. As we kept walking he ignored the questions I was asking him, and finally he quietly said, “I’m hungry.” I apologized to him and tried to change the subject as best I could. He said it again.

I’ve been generally successful about avoiding paying for anything the children who frequent our program ask for. I came to Uganda to teach, to coach, and to help build up a program to become locally sustainable; not to buy children food or pay for their school fees or continue any other cycle of dependence that is rampant in my parts of East Africa. In Nairobi, people say, “For every starving person in Kibera, there is a white person trying to feed them.” They’re probably not far off, and one wonders how long Kibera will remain such a densely populated slum when the children who inhabit it grow up being fed by the hands of a foreigner.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” David said to me as we kept walking. I had no reason to believe he was lying, but this time I told him I didn’t have any money and again tried to change the subject. “I can’t sleep when I haven’t eaten,” he said, knowing quite well I was lying to him. I asked him what he wanted to eat, and he said he wanted a rolex (an omelet held by a chappati that costs 1200 UGX, or roughly 40 cents). I compromised and told him I would give him 500 UGX so he could buy a chappati and beans. He smiled, thanked me, and told me he would see me the next day before running off.

I’m not sure why I broke a cardinal rule I set for myself over a year ago. I’ve turned down countless children who have asked me for money to buy food, simply because I knew the next day they would be unchanged. David and his request were no different, but for some reason I gave in. Had I not given him the money he would have slept through the night, perhaps uncomfortably, but without his life in peril. I’m also well aware that I’ve set a precedent I need to avoid, and at his next request I’ll have to turn him down.

The issue of morality and hunger is not black and white, and when it comes to the question of whether or not I did the right thing I have no answer. If we are to go off the money I gave David, I could feed him twice a day for 175 days at a cost of little more than my daily salary at my last job. I could put him through school for five years with the same amount of money. I don’t know if my refusal to do so makes me morally bankrupt or morally responsible.

If we are to assume that I made a child more comfortable for the night, than we can assume that I did the right thing. But if we are to assume that child now expects that I will relieve his hunger whenever he asks, or that he will tell his friends to ask me for money whenever they want to eat, then the answer becomes murkier. And of course there are issues of health versus dependency and short term kindness versus long term realities that an hour of contemplation cannot attempt to reason with.

Time will tell whether or not I did the right thing. Hopefully the decision will be inconsequential: David will have eaten, the issue will have been resolved, and I’ll forget about it as quickly as I forget any other mundane aspect of life. But I don’t think it will be easy, and I don’t think a good answer will ever present itself. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I hope my decision isn’t one of the tiles that laid its foundation.

A Breakdown on the Absurdity That Can Be a Day in Kampala

My day on the 23rd, as best as I can remember it. That said, my memory isn't worth holding a thing.  

8:15 – Wake up, grab some water and go through every other early morning routine that makes me feel like a human again.
9:07 – Brush my teeth. Hear Charlie, my landlord, on the phone asking “Where is Mwenda?” Figure this involves me but try to hide my interest. Andrew Mwenda is one of my favorite Ugandan writers and intellectuals, but I try to concentrate on my teeth.
9:10 – Charlie tells me he has set up a meeting for me with Rosa, the content editor at Radio One, a popular radio station among Ugandans. He thinks there could be work for me at the Independent, Mwenda’s newspaper, and Rosa is a good way in.
9:45 – Head to the youth center only thinking about the afternoon that is coming up
10:00 – Introduce a lesson to the life skills class before heading back to the house and getting ready.
12:30 – Take a boda to Kisamente, where I meet Rosa and her colleague at a nice restaurant. They chain smoke and swear a ton. We hit it off instantly.
1:30 – Rosa’s colleague regales us with stories of being tailed by Rwandan security forces in Kigali and predicts the 2016 election: Norbert Mao steps in, with a reintroduction of term limits in place as a caveat. I don’t buy it.
1:45 – Rosa picks up a phone call and excitedly begins speaking in French. She confirms that the political wing of M23, a rebel group that has wreaked havoc in Eastern DR Congo for months, has agreed to speak on the radio tonight with the spokesperson of the UPDF. She tells me I’ve come at an exciting time. I ask if that means I can come to the studio with her and she responds with, “fuck yes”. 
2:00 – Walk to the Independent. The editor asks me to explain every tattoo I have. I decide against showing him the one on my chest. He seems mildly interested. We agree that I will submit a story on whatever I want, and he’ll consider it. I try and convince myself that at one point in my life I considered myself a “writer”. That was years ago.
2:45 – Meet everyone at the Independent. Mwenda is nowhere to be found, which is somewhat of a relief. Do you really want to tell somebody how much you enjoyed the closing line of their TedTalk?
3:30 – Meet with Charlie and his friend Rose who is starting an NGO in Western Uganda to help battered women. I act as a consultant for the best ways she can get funding, and I keep asking myself why anybody trusts a word I’m saying. Rose tells me she had a small role in the Kony 2012 video, but then tells me it is not her proudest moment. I try to give her good advice.
4:37 – Call Rosa and ask if I can come to the studio. She tells me I have 23 minutes to get halfway across the city. I find a boda and throw money at him before he can agree to give me a ride.
4:44 – The boda driver stops for gas.  I hold back my frustration as best I can.
4:56 – Make it to Radio One. Rosa leads me upstairs and I begin researching the latest news on M23 and preparing questions.
5:17 – Rosa informs me the UPDF has dropped off the scheduled call. She begins to scramble.
5:23 – Rosa gets a phone calls and worriedly talks in French. M23 has decided to drop off and claims its spokesperson has fallen ill. There are no such things as coincidences in my opinion.
7:00 – I fight off sleep in the Radio One office. I have no clue what’s going on. Nobody but Rosa seems to know why I’m there. I follow her as she reads the news briefs in the studio.
7:15 – We go to another studio, where a televised talk show is being held. There is a moderator, lawyer, and UDC spokesperson on the show. I’m told to sit off camera and be quiet. The topic of the show is how Uganda should mitigate the M23 crisis, and if the recent UN report accusing Rwanda and Uganda of supporting M23 should be trusted.
7:26 – The UPDF spokesperson has now decided he will make himself available. He calls in.
7:32 – Rosa hands me a sheet of paper that reads “Write down your questions”. All of my prepared questions had been for M23. I scramble for what to ask Colonel Kulayigye of the UPDF.
7:34 – I hand questions with chicken scratch handwriting on the supposed link between the FDLR and M23 and if Uganda will drop out of the peace talks if the UN does not renege their report accusing Uganda of supporting M23.
7:40 – The moderator asks both questions. I feel a sense of accomplishment not felt in a long time.
8:15 – Rosa and I part ways with plans to meet again in a few days. I head to Kololo to meet some new expat friends for dinner.
8:33 – I enter the Chinese restaurant and a woman grabs me by the hand and takes me to a VIP room. I try telling her there is nothing important about me.
8:34 – My expat friends have already ordered, and apparently they are the important ones. I get a beer and some tofu. It is the first thing I’ve eaten in close to nine hours.
10:00 – Dinner is over and the bill has been paid. Bodas are called. I just want to watch the Manchester United game and fall asleep.
10:34 – The bodas we call finally arrive. I part ways with my friends and tell the boda driver where I’m going, and that if he gets me to Garden City I can direct him the rest of the way.
10:40 – I have no idea where we are. I wonder if the boda driver knows where he is going.
10:41 – The boda driver asks me if I know where we are. I tell him I don’t and he starts to laugh. I wonder if the boda driver is taking me to the middle of nowhere so he can kill me and take the small amount of money I have.
10:49  - My paranoia is unwarranted. We get home and I sit down with Charlie and his family.
11:45 – Manchester United has won. All is well in the world.

What the Temperature of Beer Can Tell Us About Socioeconomics

I had a bit of a shock last night when I walked up to the local beer stand and asked for a Nile. I bit my tongue as the shopkeeper went into the fridge, and was slightly taken aback when she handed me a frosty bottle and told me how much it cost – 2500 shillings, or roughly 97 cents. The price wasn’t the source of surprise, but rather the fact that she didn’t ask me if I wanted the drink warm or cold. Cold it was.

Cold beer could be hard to come by in Nsamyba and especially Ndejje last year, and when it was available a warm option was still on the table. This was before a dam in Jinga was completed, and load shedding (a pretty term meaning government controlled power outages) was rampant in the slums and villages deemed unnecessary for electricity. As a result, many Ugandans are accustomed and sometimes prefer warm beer. You don’t need electricity to drink, of course.

The longest power outage I experienced lasted a week, which coincided with a week without running water. Every night I would drink my warm beer and look up at the hilltop as the lights of the expatriate village didn’t waver. International government workers took a higher priority to ordinary Ugandans and their houses, although I almost never heard a complaint from anybody. It just seemed like business as usual.

Now that the dam in Jinga has been finished, power shedding occurs less frequently in the villages outside of Kampala, although I have no way of knowing the conditions farther north. As easy and justified as it is to criticize President Museveni, I can only think that this is a positive step for the country. Of course thousands of residents in Jinga could have been forced off their land in order for the dam to be built, but hopefully I’m just being jaded. Looking up at those lights last year, it wasn’t hard to get that way.

Things change slowly in a country now just 50 years post-independence and maybe the cold beer is another sign of progress. Ugandans are also steeped in their ways, and so I doubt many will change their taste from warm beer to cold – the stacks of beer on the wall instead of the fridge prove that. But of course that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I wasn’t asked my preference, and in village that was the site of slum tours for ignorant Westerners not too long ago, that says something.

It's Dark and Uganda is Hot

I don’t mean to equate Uganda to hell, but simply want to describe Kampala at 8pm while using DMX as the inspiration that he is in all our lives. In the last 48 hours I’ve gotten around eight hours of sleep, traveled over 7500 miles, and drank enough airplane wine to make British Airways reconsider their serving policies. So needless to say, I’m slightly delirious and mentally taking a personal trip to the moon; hence the reference to the album that “Ruff Ryder’s Anthem” made.

I landed in Entebbe around 8am, and the day has been a whirlwind since then. I went straight to a coaches meeting where I was greeted with chants and claps, headed to Ndejje to help teach a lesson and see old students, and dragged my roommates around Kabalagala in a successful search for Amaruala (Houston, we have a problem).

The power just went off at the house, and I feel at home and at peace. I’m still trying to figure out why, but it feels like I’ve never left, yet I’m seeing my surroundings under a different lens. Part of it is due to the fact that I know what to expect, and I submitted myself to that before leaving Dulles, where as last year I was going in blind. I also don’t think I’m a jerk kid with no clue of what he’s doing anymore, but now a jerk kid with a small sense of the outside world and the reasons a program like Soccer Without Borders exists. Really though, it has to do with the smile on Samuel’s face when he picked me up at the airport, hearing Rapha ask where I was before he entered the center, and every other interaction I made with friends I hadn’t seen in close to a year. A sense of home is a sense of genuineness, and there is nothing more in abundance in this country than pure kindness.

I have no sage words of conclusion. The power is back on, my roommates and I are about to a few episodes of How I Met Your Mother, and I’m waking up at 8am to play a match with the U-17’s before lessons begin. It’s good to be back. 

Goodbye For Now, America. Uganda, I’ll See You Soon.

My flight to London leaves in 10 hours, and I still need to do some essential things like turn my phone off, get money for a visa, and pack six months of my life into a rucksack; last minute lifestyle. If I can sleep on the plane I’ll spend tomorrow haunting around London, but I don’t see that happening. Heathrow’s Terminal 4, with its hotel and moderately priced bar will probably serve as my home until I leave for Entebbe at 9pm Tuesday night. 

I’ve already tried my best to provide some introspective thoughts on this trip, and now I feel inadequately prepared to say anything worth reading. I’m sure I’ll get a twinge of nervous reality once I get to the airport, but right now I can’t think beyond this cup of coffee and questioning what Tiki Barber is doing on CNN. I can’t do much more than deal with things as they’re presented to me at this point, although I’ll try for the sake of anybody reading this. 

I guess I’m going into this trip a little less naïve, probably a little more jaded, and ultimately aware of my motives behind volunteering again. Right now I’m barely thinking about that, though. I’m thinking about seeing my friends and laughing over a Nile, and seeing the kids and the progress they’ve made in the past year. I’m thinking about the power of a soccer match and the beauty of an overcrowded classroom. 

Ultimately though, I’m looking forward to cheating life. That’s really how I view the next six months when taking it from a selfish perspective. Part of it has to do with the fact that I have no clue what I want out of this life, and the other part has to do with the fact that I absolutely know what I don’t want out of this life. I envy people who get paid doing the former, but I’m quite happy avoiding the latter for free. If I can be cliché and holier than thou for a second, I’ll say that there is no greater freedom than working toward personal fulfillment and striving for a universal positive. It's better than waking up for a paycheck, at least.

Thank you for the last 350 days, Harrisonburg. You will always be home, and I can’t thank you all enough for letting me sleep on your couches (seriously, Angela and Wade are patient saints with all of us), move into your houses for a few months (Alex, Bill, Erin and your cute, miserable cats), and everyone else who made the last year so much fun.

Goodbye for now, America. Uganda, I’ll see you soon.

Paul Ryan, Credibility, and Iran

Paul Ryan is a dashing young man, isn’t he? Composed, good looking, a great smile and no real clue what he’s talking about when it comes to US foreign policy and Iran. He could also be one emergency away from the Oval Office, which is why the absurdity of his remarks on Iran last night were so troubling. Credibility, according to Ryan, is how we convince the ayatollahs to end their nuclear quests. 

The Obama administration doesn’t have that credibility, apparently, because of an Obama talk show appearance while Benjamin Netanyahu did his best Roadrunner impression in front of the UN, and because of recent remarks by Robert Gates on the potential fallout a strike on Iran could cause. This lack of credibility, of course, has made the military option, well, lack credibility:

“They say the military option's on the table, but it's not being viewed as credible. And the key is to do this peacefully, is to make sure that we have credibility. Under a Romney administration, we will have credibility on this issue.”

Let’s ignore the fact that Ryan gave no reason why a Romney administration would be more credible, and we can discard his hopeful thinking that an Israeli strike on Iran won’t actually happen in the spring. We can also forget some of the reasons why the ayatollahs couldn’t care less about Obama’s moves on the issue, such as their own strategic deterrent rational for having a bomb or a history of Israeli bluffs when it comes to a strike. Let’s not even look at the issue of sanctions, which had Biden rolling his eyes and chuckling enough to make Sean Hannity question the vice-president’s health. Let’s simply look at, for better or worse, US military credibility in Iran.

1. Stuxnet

By our own definitions, the United States and Israel have conducted cyber-warfare on Iran’s Natanz uranium enrichment facility, destroying hundreds of Iranian centrifuges in the process. The operation, dubbed Olympic Games, began under the Bush administration and was ramped up by the Obama administration shortly after he took office. The computer virus, Stuxnet, eventually escaped Natanz and was discovered, and could thus be studied and possibly duplicated. Since then cyber-warfare has become a hot-button issue, and Leon Panetta is quite worried about what could happen if and when a virus is turned loose against American infrastructure. 

 2.       Mujahedin-e Khalq

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, especially when the enemy of my enemy has an influential lobby in Washington. By taking the MEK off of its terrorist list, the United States enraged Tehran and made it clear that terrorism isn’t considered terrorism if a mutual enemy is involved. With the backing, or at least the guaranteed blind eye, of the US government, MEK can receive funds and materials and has gained an air of legitimacy in the international world, despite how mainstream Iranians perceive the group, and their alleged ties with Mossad in the assassination of Iranian scientists working on the country’s nuclear capability.

 3.       Shadow Wars

Israel and Iran have long been engaged in tit-for-tat shadow wars targeting state officials and civilians. Israel’s Mossad, in conjunction with the MEK, has carried out successful attacks on Iranian scientists that have left five dead since 2007. Iran and Hezbollah have responded with their own terrorist actions, most recently in the Bulgaria bus bombing that left five Israeli citizens dead. Israeli assassinations have been carried out with a lack of condemnation by the United States, and support for Israel has not wavered.

Whether or not these actions by the United States are beneficial or not is outside the point. In reality, neither the Obama administration nor the potential Romney administration will want to engage Iran militarily. For Ryan to assume, however, that the ayatollahs are scoffing at a US military option is absurd, given the military components already in play. If military credibility is what is at stake with Iran, there is not much more the United States can do besides escalating what has already become a hostile situation. One can only hope that Ryan doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying, but he has given little indication that his foreign policy views are any more nuanced than what can typically heard on Rush Limbaugh’s talk show. And that, of course, is troubling to say the least.

Yes, I'm Going to Uganda. No, You Shouldn't Say That.

This is going to be one of the most pretentious things I write, but I plan on spending most of my day at a local brewery and will afford myself the easy way out this morning. Plus the big things going on today is the International Day of the Girl (which is awesome, check yesterday’s blog for a similar theme) and whether Turkey and Syria will go to war, and I'm nowhere near knowledgeable enough to make a guess at that. So while I appreciate your interest, here is a list of 10 questions and comments I have heard about traveling to or from Uganda that are annoying or simply stereotypical.

1. The word “Africa”

The only time Africa is a country is here, and if you’re a regular visitor I applaud you. Africa is a continent comprised of 57 countries, and they’re all pretty different. I know it might be a bit of a shock that South Africa, Egypt, Mali, Ghana and DR Congo all share the same continent, but let’s try and face that reality. So while it is accurate to say that I’m going back to Africa, and will be in Africa for six months, it’s more accurate to say Uganda. Come on, you know you’re better than that anyways.

2. Be safe, bring a gun

I appreciate the attempt at humor, but guns aren't that safe, not to mention that most people are not allowed to bring them on international flights. Uganda also isn't dangerous, and I probably have horrible aim regardless. Plus, let’s be real: Telling somebody to be safe in Uganda by carrying a firearm is like telling somebody to be a studious college student by freebasing heroin. It doesn't make sense.

3.         Don’t drink the water

This is one of those overarching pieces of traveler advice that is beyond overused, like “Find out if you shake with your right or left hand”, or item #5 on this list. I drink the water all the time, just after it has been boiled. Plastic water bottles and the environment don’t go hand-in-hand, especially in a country with few good options for waste disposal.

4.         Go find Kony

After I left the country last year, Joseph Kony became synonymous with Uganda, and really the whole of Africa (see item #1). A year ago there were a handful of ex-LRA combatants in the program, and they might still be participating, but Joseph Kony has nothing to do with the work I’m doing. He isn't in any country I plan on traveling to, either. I’m hoping the African Union has a better chance of finding him than I do, although at this point who knows.

5.         Make sure to tell people you’re Canadian

Uganda isn't Iran, or Chile, or Cambodia, or any other country where there is a legitimate reason to dislike Americans. The last time I checked, the United States didn't colonize any land in Africa, and while we did some pretty crappy things to Patrice Lumumba, there isn't much of a reason for Ugandans to hate Americans. Plus, Canadian could lead to French, which could make things complicated, so the stars and stripes it is.

6.         Did you know anybody who had AIDS?

I don’t know, I didn't see any name tags that said “Hi, my name is ____, and I have AIDS.” This is actually one of the more stereotypical and offensive questions people can’t seem to resist asking. Uganda has made huge strides in AIDS prevention, one of the few things Museveni can still rest his hat on. I’m sure all of us have worked with or known somebody with HIV/AIDS, I have no clue why there is still such a stigma around it.

7.         Are you going with a church?

No. To be fair, this question is generally asked by the parents of a friend, or dentist or doctor or somebody else who doesn't know me well enough to not ask. Religious organizations can do great work in developing countries, and operate in some of the most remote and dangerous regions of the world delivering health care and other essentials. Carl Wilkins is a bit of a hero to me. The annoyance simply comes when one automatically assumes that volunteering has to be a religious undertaking.

8.         Maybe you’ll meet a nice African American girl

Only one person said this to me, but there should be a special spot reserved for her stupidity. The comment came after she asked me if I was dating anybody, a question that was preceded by her telling me not to go to Libya because Muslims hate us and our freedom. Harrisonburg can be a wonderful place to talk with well-informed people, I miss it already. I’m sure that there are many African Americans in Uganda, but she also asked me if I would be living with “white people or African Americans”, so there was enough context to know that she was simply an idiot.

9.         What’s the worst thing you saw?

Are you a morbid human being or did you just finish a movie marathon consisting of Hotel Rwanda, Blood Diamond, and Machine Gun Preacher? To answer your question honestly, the worst thing I saw was a high-level British expatriate berating a man for not making his pizza fast enough. It reeked of colonialism and people with bad manners are a huge bummer, but I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear. I've seen worse things from college students in one night at the local bar than I did in four months in Uganda.

10.     What are you going to do when you get back?

There is nothing inherently wrong with this question, it’s just one that gets exhausting to answer. I have no clue what I’ll be doing in six months, and I don’t really want to either. There’s something to be said about living every day as it comes, and I’m looking forward to being able to do that again. Life is fun, why spoil the ending?

Cherishing Female Empowerment as Non-Violent Resistance

Following the debut of Half the Sky as a PBS documentary, the attempted assassination of a 14-year-old in Pakistan, Malala Yousafzai, again showed the dangerous reality of female empowerment in the developing word. Where Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn’s book brilliantly highlights the struggles and hopes of females living in the developing world and calls for a change in international thinking, the shooting of Yousafzai shows the possible dangers in striving for gender equality. Yousafzai was shot twice outside of her school by members of the Taliban, who had been plotting her assassination for years following the release of her diary by the BBC. She is still in critical condition, and if she survives her life will continue to be threatened by the men who attempted to kill her. 

What I’m afraid will be lost in the discussion of Yousafzai’s story is that very trait that made her a target: Her bravery and her resistance.  Issues regarding the Taliban – issues of religion, geopolitics, warfare, troop levels, November’s election – are not what interest me at the moment. What interests me is Yousafzai’s fight, and the fight of women around the world to non-violently stand up against the oppression they live with. 

With that in mind, I hope you will listen to the words of Zainab Salbi as she discusses the role of women in the midst of war, and the importance of engaging females and non-violent actors at the end of conflict. I have listened to her speech more times than I can count, and I keep her words in my head as I prepare to travel to Uganda. 

I’ve long-struggled with my role as a white male in Uganda stressing female empowerment in a culture that is not my own. Last year I was one of five members of the staff who helped to organize and run a soccer tournament and peace building exercise specifically designed for women. Of the five of us, only one was female. Over time I hope a more equal balance will be achieved, but I think the importance of the event and our work remain the same: In post-conflict and conflict-recovery settings where males dominate the discussion, female empowerment on any level is of utmost importance.

With that said, it is hard as a male to encourage acts of female resistance when the consequences faced by females for their actions can be so devastating. Yousafzai almost paid her life for speaking and acting against the Taliban; in September, six members of Skateistan - an NGO encouraging empowerment through skateboarding in Afghanistan with 40% female members – were killed in a suicide attack. Their stories are unfortunately not outliers in the region.

Their lives and the lives of thousands of other female dissidents risking everything to push back against systems of oppression should be celebrated, their bravery and ultimate sacrifice should be mourned and justice should be demanded. In developing countries where gender equality is being fought for – where going to school or speaking out against oppression means risking your life – simply pushing back against systemic oppression by living life should be cherished. What needs to be paramount to the discussion is not only the brutality of the conditions many women in the developing world live in, but the bravery of girls and women like Yousafzai and the hope and beauty in their resistance.

Question Six: At Least the Maryland Marriage Alliance Recognizes Their Own Hatred

Oh the joys of living next to a state about to go to the polls over marriage equality. Last night the Maryland Marriage Alliance (MMA) started airing a television ad in a battle for supremacy in beltway ignorance, waging hatred against bigotry with the American Freedom Defense Initiative. I’ve tried my hardest to come up with a joke about the benefits of moving to Uganda to avoid intolerance excused by religion, but Scott Lively isn’t a fan of humor, so I digress.

The good news is that early indicators show that Maryland voters will approve Question Six, a full eight months after it was signed into legislation. The bad news is that my mother is huge Nationals follower, and the MMA seems to have chosen baseball fans as the best demographics to pander to. Their advertisement was aired numerous times throughout the game last night, and each time I saw it I came to the same conclusion: At least they have accepted how flawed and hateful their position is.

After come cliché shots of a man and woman going through the matrimony motions and the tired “bedrock of society” angle, we get our first overarching assumption on the human condition: “Marriage is more than what adults want for themselves”. I can only assume the MMA knows more about what I want than I do, and can make that judgment for half of the adult population in this country. At least I know better now, and I’m contemplating my Christian Mingle profile picture as I type.  

The advertisement goes on to inform us that marriage isn’t just what adults want for themselves, it also provides children the “best chance to be raised by a mother and father”. I imagine this isn't referring to pre-existing orphan children, but rather the assumed children married couples will have. I also suppose that MMA doesn't believe that should gay marriage be legal, LGBT couples would begin to magically procreate. Considering single LGBT adoption is legal in Maryland and there is no specification on couple-based LGBT adoption, I have no clue what to make of MMA’s statement. 

At this point, unfortunately, the ad is only halfway finished. Unconsciously (or consciously, who knows), MMA recognizes that the “sanctity of marriage” angle is worthless, as they begin an argument with, “While death and divorce too often prevent it…”. I can only hope that during the writing of this ad somebody in Annapolis threw up their drafts in disgust when they realized there is no sanctity in marriage and just decided to continue with a flawed argument.

What death and divorce too often prevent, of course, are children doing their best when “raised by their married mother and father.” As I understand it now, two people who cannot procreate should not be able to get married because their impossibly-conceived children wouldn't be raised in the best possible environment. Take that, marriage equality!

Mercifully we are almost finished, but it only takes 5 seconds for MMA to fully realize their ignorance. When somebody begins a statement with, “I’m not a racist, but…” they accept that the next thing out of their mouth is going to be racist. So when MMA states, “Everyone is entitled to love and respect, but…” they are fully cognizant of the fact that they don’t think homosexuals are entitled to love and respect. They understand there is no logical argument to be made against gay marriage other than their own fear of the LGBT community, and so their defense is that nobody can redefine marriage. Perhaps a similar argument was made in 1787 during the Three-Fifths Compromise and a delegate argued, “Every human being is worthy of being counted as a human being, but nobody is entitled to consider an African-American more than 60% of a person.”

At this point in the gay marriage debate, it’s simply a matter of being on the right or wrong side of history. As the generation gap swings and progressive thought and legislation carries on, it’s a matter of time for marriage equality to become as normal as a woman voting or a black man drinking out of the same water fountain as a white man. And that’s the thing: It is normal, because there is nothing complicated about equal human rights. 

If there is one positive thing to take from this advertisement, it’s that it seems like the denial stage is gone, and MMA and hopefully others understand there is no logic in their position, just a long-held hatred of something they’re not comfortable with .Hopefully, sooner rather than later, that hatred can be turned around into understanding, and eventually acceptance and equality.