Interconnectedness and nonviolence guide my moral compass. The fundamental right of every being to be treated equally, justly and with love has always been self-evident to me. From the injured animals I rescued and cared for as a kid, to the AIDS-era protests, to our current struggle against ICE, I have worked alongside others for a country shaped by empathy, dignity, justice, and equality.
I am a patriot. But my patriotism isn’t the blind nationalism I inherited — the kind that smooths over our history and excuses our failures. My patriotism is a commitment to the ideals we claim as a nation: equality, freedom, and justice. From the beginning, even as the Founders wrote “all men are created equal,” they knew those words didn’t match reality. Think of it like Plato’s Theory of Forms: there is a perfect version of a thing, and what we see in the world is often an imperfect copy. True equality is the ideal — but so far we’ve mostly achieved something like “equality-ness,” a flawed imitation of what it should be. Still, reaching for that ideal is what bends the moral arc toward justice, and it’s what fuels my love for this country.
On January 29, I assembled with hundreds of interfaith clergy and laypeople in Washington, DC to protest ICE’s atrocities and demand that the government stop funding the agency. 59 people of different races, sexualities, genders, abilities, faiths, traditions, educations and ages were arrested as we occupied the Hart Senate building singing, “No están solos, No están solas, Juntos hacemos, la liberación.” You are not alone, we are not alone, together we will achieve liberation.
Across our country, people are being disappeared, assaulted, starved.They are dying in detention from violence and neglect. Our neighbors in targeted communities are hiding in fear, afraid to leave their homes, to take their children to school, or even answer the door. I held these neighbors in my heart as I sat down on the floor of the Hart building and began to sing.
But our experience was different than the Black and Brown people being detained by ICE. We weren’t jerked up from the floor and slammed against the wall. We weren’t pepper sprayed or tear gassed. We were treated with kindness, gentleness, respect. The officers followed the rule of law. I was not harmed or disappeared. I was not insulted or called names. We were arrested, processed, and released.
As a Unitarian Universalist, my spirituality is rooted in challenging injustice, moving in solidarity with the vulnerable, and countering hate and violence with non-violent action and love. My spiritual growth comes from learning how to dissolve the illusion of otherness and live my life in full awareness that, in our shared humanity, we are the same.
Hindu and Buddhist traditions teach that we all share one divine consciousness and our perceived separateness from each other is just an illusion. Hold that thought for a moment; our separateness is an illusion – so at the soul level:
You are me and I am you and we are them and they are us. There is no other.
The problem of otherness is at the root of society’s propensity for violence, apathy, and hate because it causes separateness and isolation. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote about the concept of “being-for-others” where the opinion of the person who sees us determines our self worth, which separates us from each other and creates a power dynamic. Toni Morrison coined the phrase, “white gaze” as the perspective that the white experience was the “normal” experience against which every other experience or perspective must be measured or explained – which by definition erases all other perspectives.
Othering is also a powerful strategy of authoritarian politics. We are hearing it every day from the current administration: We are Americans, they are not. We are good, law abiding citizens; they are the worst of the worst. They will take your jobs, harm your children, ruin your safe neighborhoods. We are patriots, they are domestic terrorists.
Authoritarianism strengthens the illusion of otherness and uses it to polarize communities and create an us-versus-them dynamic so we will end up fearing each other. But this is just a political tactic created to keep us weak and malleable. And the first way to defeat it is to remember that at the core level:
You are me and I am you and we are them and they are us. There is no other.
That’s why when we put love into action for each other, we see each other and ourselves more clearly. The more we love, the greater the clarity. Love in action is not easy. It can be uncomfortable. It can make our foundations tremble. It requires courage. And it leads us closer to the ideals of equality, freedom and justice for all.
Black, white, asian, doesn’t matter ’cause we can’t avoid
So let’s all come together, join hands and, yes, get annoyed
At people who believe racism makes sense …
I think it’s time that we repair all of these bridges we’ve burned
And let love out of our hearts onto cheeks we’ve turned
Spread love, show love, let’s get rid of this curse
Don’t wait for anyone to act, man, you go first.
– from the song Black Lives Matter, by Dax
Unitarian Universalists who gathered in Washington, DC to participate in this action. Rev. Abhi Janamanchi is near the center of the photo next to Rev. Mykal Slack (UU Congregation of Rockville, MD) and Rev. Dr. Sofía Betancourt (President, UUA). Amy Couch is third from right, next to Pablo DeJesus (Executive Director, UUs for Social Justice) and Rev. Michael J. Crumpler, UUA LGBTQ and Multicultural Programs Director.
