Building Community Charity

By any metric, quantitatively or qualitatively, I’ve lived a life of privilege.  I could offer up examples of charity work I’ve done and reflect on how that “changed me for the better,” but I don’t think that reflects the spirit of the question, and it’s an inauthentic answer.

Instead, I want to talk about times that individuals have helped me, but not necessarily in the “here’s a hot meal” sort of way.  When I first arrived at Amherst, I didn’t know any upperclassmen.  Every relationship I have on this campus has been forged here, I didn't know anyone before I matriculated.  One of the most valuable experiences I have had at Amherst has been my membership in our improv group, Mr. Gad’s House of Improv.  The connection to “charity” is tenuous but real – without the outreach I received from upperclassmen during the fall of my first year, I never would have joined the group.  Outside Pond dormitory on one Saturday, a junior who I had just met encouraged me to audition.   This demonstrated a confidence in me, and was the sole reason I auditioned.  Zach, the junior, extended himself and spoke to someone two years younger than himself, and was very generous with his time.  I will miss my weekly performances more than anything else next year.

During the summer of 2010, I was a group leader at Camp Canadensis, an overnight camp in Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains.  I oversaw 10 staff members, and 9 of them were older than me.  It was a risk to offer a position like this to a twenty year-old.  I wasn’t changing the world, but I had to make sure that the 39 kids under my supervision returned home happy and healthy after seven weeks of camp.  The trust and support I received from my colleagues that summer helped me to lead the division successfully.  If someone younger than me were my supervisor, I’m not sure how I would’ve responded, so I’m grateful that everyone that summer assisted me. 

I’ve benefitted from so many elements of privilege during my life – my skin privilege, my parents’ wealth, Amherst College’s reputation – and these were all gifts given to me without my control. (One could debate if I was accepted into Amherst because I’m truly exceptional, or because I have attended great schools and had wonderful teachers throughout my life.)  These elements aren’t charity, but they were given to me and allowed me to thrive.

Adaora’s post on family charity reminded me a lot of my own family’s narrative and their practices of giving. In my childhood, I remember many of my family members cohabiting together in large houses on the Texas/Mexico border between one move to another. My cousins would constantly hop between our families to sleep on the couch or in the extra bedroom, as often as their life paths would change. Members of my family, with rare opposition, would welcome and support them, for whatever time, with open arms. Coming from a large, very close Mexican-American family, I see our family’s giving to one another without asking for anything in return is one of its strongest qualities. It’s a quality I have seen reflected in my other Mexican/Mexican-American friends’ families as well, which has become a unifying thread between us as a people. I thought of more specific examples of this extreme, unequivocal acts of giving like the time my dad paid $500 to get my aunt new tires for her car, the numerous weekly family gatherings in Austin or Laredo that a few specific households would sponsor and the generous supply of food as a collective,  and the years my aunt and uncle who took in my very ill grandfather during the worst stages of his Alzheimer’s and all of the medical and caretaking bills for which that called, while also supporting many of my cousins and their grandchildren. The giving that comes from the mere blood tie we have is astonishing. Upon reflection, I realize this is something extremely valuable in my identity and something I don’t want to lose from my family values. However, the circumstance, immigrant identities, and poverty that much of my family has gone through (that I believe, made much of this necessary and desirable), I expect will not be the same to facilitate such extreme acts of charity among the next generations of my family. I can only hope that, with concerted efforts, a few of us can maintain this spirit.

This narrative has also made me think how much my direct family has given me and not asked for anything in return. Unlike some of my friend’s parents, my parents aren’t threatening to cut me off at a certain point after graduation, they’ve been entirely supportive with any career path or life decisions I make, and have given me freedom entirely as to what I want to do. They’ve paid for most of my college education, and that of my brothers, without ever asking anything in return. When I’ve worried about money, they’ve constantly reassured me to not do so and just keep doing what I’m passionate about. I remember once my father told me that he doesn’t care what my brothers and I do after our college graduations. He says that he would die happy just knowing that he was able to give us an education that has given us options past generations of my family haven’t had. Even if we decided just to go work at McDonald’s, he said he would be fine, if that is what we truly wanted to do. I’m assuming because my ambition hasn’t lead me astray so far, I have been allowed the absolute freedom over where I want my education and life trajectory to reach and they have said they will pay/support me wherever this will be.

Receiving charity, as others have mentioned, can make one feel guilty, as one is put in a position in which they feel they “owe” something. I only hope that what I decide to do with my life warrants all that I have received. This familial charity has motivated me to do better in my life and reach my goals because I don’t want to compromise all that they have given me out of the goodness of their hearts. While I may be unable to serve my family directly with all of my efforts (I don’t exactly plan to return home for the rest of my life after graduation to support them), I will do what I can. I also hope that my efforts to make life better in similar communities as that my family comes from is enough to pay this all forward. I believe that giving truly comes back to the giver in one way or another and that the receivers pay back in one way or another. This pay back may not be directly to the giver, but channeled into some other efforts that continue this base level generosity – this generosity, I believe, is one of the most beautiful capacities of our human condition and fuels much of our progress and development.

When my family immigrated to the United States, we were all forced to swallow our pride and accept charity in a way we had never had to before. And when I say we, I mean mostly my parents, because now that I think about it, at the time I wasn’t really aware that we were receiving charity at all. For the first year that we lived in America, we simply didn’t have the connections or the resources to find a home of our own, so we moved in with my dad’s brother and his family. As a nine-year-old, I remember having no objections to this whatsoever. Every day I had the pleasure of spending time with my parents, aunt, uncle, and cousins, and given that I was an only child, I embraced suddenly being surrounded by extended family. But I remember my parents reacting very differently to my uncle’s charity. My mother especially, would always remind me that this house we lived in wasn’t our home. We were guests, she would say, it was a privilege to be here. She would have me thank my uncle for the smallest of things. And whenever my aunt had guests over, she would steer me upstairs, reminding me that it was more respectful to stay out of the way. At the time I didn’t understand why she seemed so ashamed, so uncomfortable in our temporary home. It was only as I got older that I realized the help we had received from my uncle had in fact been a form of charity. It was charity that my parents wished they did not have to rely on, and being as well-behaved and as unobtrusive as possible was the way they coped with being in a position of shameful dependence.  

This charity we received was, I think, unique in that it wasn’t offered to us by the government or the church or a non-profit organization—it was offered to us by members of our own family. Yet even so, my parents didn’t feel the least bit entitled to it. And in a way, I think they have felt indebted to my uncle and his family ever since. In the years after we moved out, I remember my mom made it a point to send holiday cards and birthday gifts to my uncle’s children. My dad would have me call them every once in a while, just to say hello. Once we settled down in a place of our own, we even invited my uncle to visit us in Chicago, and we all did our best to be hospitable hosts. I often complained about my parents’ perceived necessity to give, give, give. It did not feel genuine to me; it simply felt like we were working to fulfill an obligation that could never be completely fulfilled.

Reflecting on this now reminds me that charity is not such a positive thing when you have been forced to be on the receiving end. For when you receive a much-needed gift, you might feel relieved on the one hand, but you might also feel uncomfortable; you might feel like you must give back. This feeling is one that might never go away; you might permanently feel beholden to those from whom you have received. Charity, then, might allow for material comfort, but in so doing, it might also cause harm. I have not had to be on the receiving end of charity in a long time. My family has made it in America; the days when we were compelled to ask for help from others are gone. Since I remember what it was like to be less privileged, I still feel drawn to community service, volunteer work, and other forms of charity. But perhaps I need to step back and remember what it feels like to receive, so that I can also remember to give in a way that is appreciated rather than resented by others.  

Reflect on an occasion when you have recieved charity...