Christian Cooper's superhero name is Captain Cry Bully
As a teacher in
front of a class I saw my students as their fellow students did not see them. The
pale girl with thin hair looked as if a stiff wind might shred her. If others
noticed her at all, they wrote her off as "shy." In fact cancer had
monopolized thirty percent of this teen's time on planet earth. She was taking
college classes on the off chance that she might survive long enough to have a
career. A middle-aged German immigrant performed better than her peers. This
apparent superhuman hid vulnerabilities. In addition to school, she had work,
and daily visits to her hospitalized son after his nearly fatal accident. The
very handsome Circassian lad assured me that his parents would kill him if they
knew he was gay and did not believe in Allah. There was the smiling,
effervescent baker who had to rise at three a.m. Without parents or
scholarships, she was paying her own way and lived in rock bottom poverty. All
these students were white.
I grew up poor;
my mother lost three babies; four of my siblings died young. One of my
childhood friends was so malnourished and neglected that doctors tell him his
life span will be shortened. Three of his grandparents died in the Gulag. One
escaped. My friend now lives in a comfortable suburb. How? William Saroyan described my friend's
trajectory.
"Work.
Work all my life. All my life, work.
From small boy
to old man, work.
In old country,
work. In new country, work.
In New York.
Pittsburgh. Detroit. Chicago. Imperial Valley. San Francisco.
Work. No beg.
Work."
A getaway for
him is, if he can squeeze it in, an hour's walk in a wooded area. He has so
many dreams but work eats up the limited time he has left. He's a white man.
When I was a
nurse's aide, I had to catheterize a beautiful, young athlete who looked like
Michelangelo's David. His final act in a functioning body was to dive into
water. Some kink in the physics of that dive paralyzed him from the neck down.
He was a white man. In Nepal I helped nuns from the Sisters of Charity collect
the elderly from the streets where their families dropped them off to die. We
washed countless lice and fleas out of their clothing with cold water from a
pump in the courtyard.
Humans are social animals and evolution has equipped us with compassion. Decent people like you and me want to address suffering so we donate to charitable organizations, we volunteer, we visit nursing homes, we lend an ear and a shoulder, we pray. Morally retarded people do something else with suffering.