See-through walls

I took on a project for a dear friend of mine. I offered to paint her kitchen while she was out of town. Although a bit reluctant at first, she eventually conceded thus I donned my faded painting attire and headed out to her place. At the time I didn’t put much thought into her reservations nor why she had them. I knew why and because we’re so close I ensured her they were silly because I was simply happy to offer something . . . invest a little of my time to make her life easier upon her return home. I was able to do it so I thought "why not". But once I entered the house, set the keys down and got the supplies in order I slowly realized that I was in a position that maybe made her a bit vulnerable. I set my iPod on a Mumford & Sons loop and began edging along the door frame.

Besides the obvious access to her home, she would be the recipient of hours of work on my part. We were essentially in unequal positions whereas I the giver, was “gifting” a small sacrifice from my perspective and she the recipient, was receiving something significant from hers. I felt honored and a bit humbled as I was brushing off base boards and filling in random nail holes. I got to see her kitchen in way that was more exposed than a typical guest would experience. There’d be the typical collection of dust in a corner behind the fridge or layers of chipped paint behind a faceplate switch. Small details that no one really cares about except maybe the owner of the walls and yet here I was in a position to see everything the way it is during transition. Raw. Vulnerable and the other end of of my charity.

A simple story about painting someone’s kitchen might seem insignificant. . . until I invested some thought to the numerous ways I unknowingly position myself in the lives of others. I was presented with this very opportunity later that week while I was looking into some activities for my church women’s group. I received a call back from a woman who coordinates a local volunteer group that “seeks to improve the quality of life for women and children living in poverty and despair”. She began to rattle of the list of volunteer activities we could assist in and I was particularly startled by one of them. Twice a month she and the other members of this group visit a local women’s shelter. They provide dinner for the residents and chat while eating with the women and their children. After dinner they conduct what she referred to as a “life skill” lesson coupled with some sort of Biblical devotion and prayer. Having a grasp on domestic violence intervention and empowerment I asked a series of questions and admittedly, didn’t like the answers returned to me.

“How do you feel the residents in the program receive your group when they come?” I asked.

“Oh they usually are glad to see us and they listen a lot. Their children are just some of the cutest little darlings you’ll ever meet. Sometimes they’re a little quiet but really just so sweet”. She replied.

“Yes” I paused. “I guess I’m kind of interested in knowing… well, do the residents have a choice to attend dinner in the common room or do some choose to eat someplace else in the facility?”

A little confused by the question she explained “Well, no. That’s all a part of the program – they have to attend dinner in the common area and be a part of the life skills hour. It happens every week but we get a turn to teach a life skill lesson twice a month”.

Then there I was. Faced with the decision to either take the agreeable, polite exit from this particular volunteering option (the exit which would be socially acceptable) or be somewhat of an advocate and risk looking like a cynical snob. So when in doubt…just keep asking questions.

“So then, if you don’t mind….I was just wondering what sort of training the members of your group might have in the area of domestic abuse or dealing with women who’ve maybe been exploited or in . . . you know . . . controlling relationships where they don’t have a lot of choices?”

Silence.

“Well we aren’t formally trained for any kind of you know, "psychological" stuff if that’s what you mean. But we believe that these ladies are precious children of God and we just want to go in there and love them and bring some hope and light to their world” she stated in her sweet but short elevator speech reply.

“Sure. Of course” I said with a smile while bobbing my head up and down in the most agreeable fashion I could conjure up. I eventually detoured my way off the phone and hung up disheartened knowing that this woman was an average kind, concerned citizen whose engaging in something she believes in. And while I know her intentions are good I immediately become flustered at how counter-productive these volunteer groups have the potential to be.

What I REALLY wanted to say was something along the lines of: It sounds like your group is really passionate about helping others and being used to give your time and abilities to people in need. That is really wonderful! However, I suppose I’m curious how effective it might be to allow folks who don’t have any formal training in the concept of power, privilege and control and the roles that these concepts have in the fragile cycle of healing from oppressive situations. Take a resident at this shelter whose been in a situation where she’s probably been powerless and “handled”.  She’s taken an incomprehensible step towards breaking free from this cycle only to enter a shelter that requires her to subject her children to strangers – volunteers -that want to pat their heads and “teach” her how to live. She nods politely while they share their stories of when they had a rough year in college and how they saved themselves occasionally accepting cliché advice given by well-meaning do-gooders that in the long run won’t apply to their personal situations in the slightest. She eats the meal they provide because she has to or her and her children will be on the street. Then she waves goodbye to the volunteers as they get in their SUV’s and head to the local Starbucks to order a cup of warm fuzzies with a shot of ignorance. All the while no one stops to think that maybe re-inserting an individual into a situation of un-equal power and control with no choice to opt-out might not be the best idea in a program that promotes empowerment. You're observing them in this fish bowl living situation as if their walls should be see-through for our benefit. And so they continue into cyclical vulnerability.

But I didn't say that. Instead, I told her I probably won’t go with that option but I’ll let her know about the others and thanked her for taking the time to share with me.

Maybe it sounds like I’m a bit jaded but maybe it’s inappropriate if I weren’t. It’s interesting to me how our good intentions via donation of time or money to those in socially inferior positions aren’t critically thought about that often. It’s a no brainer to most folks that we should “help” others who need help. We swiftly assume that we have something to give that will improve the quality of life of someone else and neglect how it may be putting them in an increasingly vulnerable and powerless situation. Say for instance . . . “rescuing” victims of human trafficking. Uh oh, now I’ve done it.

We walk right through people’s see-through walls and pay no mind to the invisible boundaries they’d like to make more visible. . . but they can't. I’m not sure we even stop to ask them because if we did the results could be devastating. Requiring us to overhaul our approach completely.

It’s complex and it’s uncomfortable. Talking about it invokes some defensive feelings in anyone who has volunteered or currently volunteers in similar situations (or donates monetarily).  Just last weekend I was in another situation where I had this advantage and it’s tricky to maneuver. It's tricky because it's everywhere and it's our idea of normal.

It’s always easier to be the gift-giver. Especially if you feel your gift is right.

Meanwhile back at my friend’s house, I wrapped up the brushes for the night, closed up the windows and turned off the lights. I had a lot of time to think and maybe that’s why this phone call later that week was so unsettling.

Either way. . . my friend got some painted walls and I got a dose of humility. It was a good week.