My father was four years old when he began working in the fields with his migrant farm worker family. As a teenager during the Great Depression, he watched as his baby brother died of starvation because the family could not find work. He later said to me, "We could stand at the gate and see the cows in the field, but they would give us no milk for the baby." On one of their first dates, he and my mother had to leave a restaurant because they hadn't noticed the sign in the window that read "No dogs or Mexicans allowed."
Conventional wisdom would have us believe that such racism no longer exists. However, the fact that a disproportionate percentage of the 33 million poor, two million homeless, and 17 million jobless and underemployed people are people of color contradicts that wisdom and demonstrates a fundamental link between racism and classism.
Migrant farm worker children are still forced to work in the fields because low wages dictate that all healthy members work in order for the family to survive. The children of the poor and working poor still suffer the pangs of hunger; in this land of plenty, 10,000 of them die every year from the effects of malnutrition. And to those who cannot provide "payment upon receipt of services," the doors of hospitals, universities, recreational facilities, mental health centers, and other necessary services are still closed.
Why? How can this happen in the richest country in the world? It happens, I believe, because this country was built and is maintained by exploitation of the labor and resources of people of color here and abroad. Today the profiteers are, in large part, weapons contractors and salespeople. In the name of defense and with the cooperation of Congress, they annually rob our national treasury of hundreds of billions of dollars. While we all share the cost, it is people of color - the working poor and women and children - who pay the biggest price.
That those of us who value people before profits must engage in the struggle for change is a given. That most citizens of our country are decent people who would welcome nonviolent change is our hope. That the peace and justice movements have not been able to develop an organized, unified strategy for change is our problem.
UNFORTUNATELY, the peace movement, in the words of a black peace organizer, "isn't too peaceful." With a few notable exceptions, it has behaved in a manner that emulates rather than challenges the very bases of racism and classism. We do this because, in large part, we focus our energy and take our cues from members of Congress instead of working with people in grassroots communities.
We have not learned from history that real change comes from the bottom up and not the top down. Thus we have structured organizations that are top-heavy with white male leadership, lack substantial support of people of color, falter in the process of democratic decision making, and exclude issues which would provide a basis for a unified peace and justice movement.
If we are to have meaningful social change, then we must acknowledge that how that change is achieved is as important as what that change is. If our vision is that of a world where all people live as brothers and sisters and heed the call to "love one another," then we must demonstrate by our actions - and with our very lives - that this call is our highest agenda. We must not ask, as many Christian churches do, that those in need wait for a "someday heaven" where the rewards will compensate for the selfish cruelties of today.
We must follow the example of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. by going where the people are and serving them to the best of our abilities. We must attempt, as they did, to heal and empower those in need. Our struggle must be a struggle for peace and justice - for one cannot be accomplished without the other. This struggle must be engaged first in the streets, churches, and schools - and then in the Congress, legislatures, and board rooms of America.
In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., "We are faced with the urgency of now." We must begin today to examine ourselves and our organizations to find the spiritual and human failings that have held us back from the unity, solidarity, and sacrifice that will lead us to a just peace.
Lorraine Granado, a mother of three children, was director of the American Friends Service Committee Community Justice Project in Denver, Colorado and had worked for 12 years in community organizing on justice issues related to women, children, and poor people when this article appeared.
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