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Marika Staloch walked the plush environs of St. Thomas | |||||||||
Marika Staloch | |||||||||
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University alone, hurrying her step to avoid her classmates’ pressure to be one of the crowd. As usual, she had chosen not to join the churchgoing students flocking to regular afternoon mass. As she scurried away from the beckoning voices, she once again became a campus anomaly; a questioning Catholic daring to challenge the status quo. This type of incident had happened to Marika frequently during her many trips through the corridors, courtyards, and commons of St. Thomas. At any time, she could have taken the easy route and given in to the calls for silent noncompliance. Instead, she had chosen to stay on a more difficult path—one that continued a childhood trek in search of something called “a soapbox.” This journey began for Marika in an unlikely place. She grew up in a white, rich, and conservative Minneapolis, Minnesota, suburb, where social and economic justice were rarely issues of public debate. Her parents, however, were exceptions to the rule. Her dad, for instance, was almost kicked out of high school for protesting against the Vietnam War. Following in her father’s footsteps, Marika began at an early age to express her opinions and work for justice. By the time she was in junior high, Marika had begun expanding her awareness to the needs of people beyond her immediate environment. She volunteered at an inner-city church that helped mentally ill people, served as a peer helper, organized retreats, and helped coordinate a children’s fair for Earth Day that brought together city and suburban youth. Marika went off to college at the University of St. Thomas, intent on continuing her social activism. What she saw and felt there angered and frightened her. “My first year at St. Thomas was horrible,” she recalls. “I grew up Catholic, but found it to be too limiting. I questioned many of its traditions. When I chose not to attend mass at St. Thomas, I was ostracized for it. Students would pressure me to attend. All that did was make me more determined not to be part of it. “Once I helped a gay friend who had come out of the closet and was verbally harassed by homophobic students. I became discouraged by the lack of tolerance and willingness to be hurtful. At that point, I decided to be a justice and peace studies major. “As part of my major, I took a class from Jack Nelson-Pallmeyer and learned, much to my relief, that religion can offer more than just theology. It can be a source of justice and peace. Jack talked about how his life had changed when he dedicated it to justice and peace. He was a huge spiritual influence, just when I needed it. “What I was learning also affected how I invested some money my grandpa gave me. Since I now understood, through class discussions, how investing in large corporations can promote the downfall of small corporations, I invested my money in a small justice-oriented group. “Through Jack Nelson-Pallmeyer’s class, I also learned about the School of the Americas (SOA). Thousands of peasants, including children, have been killed (in several countries) by people trained at this school. “In the fall of ’98, when I heard about the opportunity to go to a protest march to object to the actions of the SOA, I decided to go as a college reporter and planned to share the story in our college newspaper when I returned. Originally, the school supported those of us who wanted to go and was willing to give each of us one hundred dollars to help cover expenses. At the last minute, they withheld the funds due to a complaint they received. Not only was I disappointed that the administrators withdrew their support, but it smacked of hypocrisy to me. ‘How can we claim to be a Christian University and not raise our voices to stop the slaughtering of innocent people?’ I wondered. “We held our own fund-raiser and were able to raise enough money to go to the SOA. Seven thousand people from all over the country showed up to protest. I attended a nonviolent training session for those who wanted to cross the line and risk arrest and was delighted to see a Catholic priest, Father Roy Bourgeois, speak out. That was a beautiful moment for me because he asked us to make a group pledge of nonviolence. He told and showed us how religion really should be: people working for peace and justice, not just talking about it. “One of our hotel rooms was set aside for young people to pray. Many struggled with how they would tell their parents if they chose to be arrested. I decided not to be arrested because I didn’t want my camera confiscated. I figured I would be more effective if I took good pictures to go along with my story. “Two thousand protesters decided to cross the line. It was amazing to watch so many people—kids and adults—stand up for SOA victims who couldn’t stand up for themselves. It was a transforming experience. “When I got back to school, I wrote the SOA story. Even though I knew that the editors were not used to leftist thought in the school newspaper, I still had hopes the school administrators would show support of our SOA efforts. Generally, there was little response at all to my article. People were good at keeping silent when they didn’t want something to get attention. However, it did offend one of our administrators, and I noticed the tension between us immediately. It hurt me to get such resistance. That’s when I got into the Student Coalition for Social Justice.” As Marika continued her peace studies education, she yearned to find out more about other cultures. Her desire became reality when she was able to travel with other students to Guatemala to study Economic Ecology. “I noticed that the Guatemalan people were impoverished in American terms, and their village was segregated: Latino versus Mayan and rich versus poor. Yet, there was much joy in their lives. They laughed and joked with each other all the time. They asked me, ‘Do you laugh more with us or with your family at home?’ I said I laughed more with them. It was good for me to come back home realizing that laughter is such good medicine. That has been important to me ever since. “I was fortunate to be able to stay with a Mayan family for a week. I was amazed at the way they took me in and allowed me to get to know them, even though I hardly knew their language. They taught me how to make tortillas, slice a pineapple, and wash my clothes by hand. They laughed (good-naturedly) at me for not knowing those little things. It made me realize how little I knew about their everyday living. “When I didn’t see any grown men in their house and asked where their father was, the mother and daughter said he had been murdered while he was out in the fields. They thought it was a government-sanctioned political murder. I knew the United States’ position was to support the Guatemalan government, and I was horrified to think the U.S. may have had a role in his murder.” Marika returned to St. Thomas from her Guatemalan visit better prepared to finish what she had started—transforming the college into a bastion of social action. She plunged into SCSJ activities, including a peace camp on campus where people spoke out against the bombing of Kosovo. She also initiated a letter opposing U.S. sanctions against Iraq. She told everyone she could that it was hypocritical to have the ROTC on campus and suggested requiring ROTC students to take justice and peace classes. To provide a tool for public dialogue regarding critical issues, she became a co-founder of the alternative newspaper on campus, called the Soapbox. It was published by the Student Coalition, which she also helped organize. The Soapbox gives students a forum for expressing opinions that might not otherwise be heard. “One of the hardest things about graduating from St. Thomas [in 1999] was leaving the Soapbox behind,” Marika says. “It was hard to let it go. It was my baby.” “The soapbox concept went beyond the coalition newsletter. The SCSJ also sponsors regular Soapbox Live events where students have a chance to say their piece on any issue. “The purpose of the coalition is to radicalize our conservative college and develop a revolutionary student movement,” Marika muses. “I made efforts to change the minds of people on campus. I’m glad I had the chance to work with a budding justice and peace community. I feel like a pioneer having helped to build it. “My initial stereotype of the peace process was that it was hippies trying to save the world. I didn’t think that it could be people like me doing it. Now I realize that peace can be exciting and intense when you allow yourself to question the status quo. It has made me a stronger person.” A few months after she graduated from St. Thomas, Marika found another soapbox, writing and delivering the following speech at a peace conference: “The most frequently asked question to me from people not involved in the peace movement is: ‘How do you care so much about that stuff?’ (The ‘stuff’ being politics.) My answer is cliché, but to the point, ‘How do you not?’ “But I’ve been forced to think about that question when deciding the path I want my life to take now that I’ve graduated. If they were to push the question further, I think I would answer: ‘Because I’m mad.’ Or perhaps, ‘Because I’m sad.’ And a lot of it has to do with the fact that I’m scared. “I can envision peace: I can envision little things like being able to go to any large city and breathe the air, taking midnight walks without having to be afraid; being able to buy something, knowing that what I purchased isn’t contaminated or the product of unfair labor conditions. I can envision peace. “So why am I scared? “I’m scared because I don’t understand how the power works in this world. I’m scared when I see the media and the politicians and the general public shutting their eyes to protesters, activists, and strikers. I’m scared that even if we do care a hell of a lot about the world and get a revolution going, it may only be the tip of a very huge undertaking. “And I’m scared because our society tells me my career should start soon. That I should sell my daylight hours so I can be productive and make use of the degree I just earned. I will become mature, responsible. And when I have a career, I’ll have to give up silly notions of taking off three days to listen to talks on peace. “But I did and here I am. And during these three days, I’ve remembered that I’m female, I’m American, I’m an activist, and I can change the world. And I’m part of a very strong family of people who care. “And now I’m not so scared.”
1. In what kind of town did you grow up? Was it a mixture of cultures or a monoculture? Did you have an opportunity to meet people of other cultures? 2. Did you have a religious upbringing? How did it affect you? Have you followed its tenets or retreated from them? Why? 3. Did you fit in well at the school(s) you attended? Were any of your views not accepted? If so, how did you feel? What did you do about it? 4. Have you ever gotten on a “soapbox” about an issue? Would you like to? If the thought scares you, what would be the worst thing that could happen? What do you need to do to overcome your fear? 5. Like Marika, do you think there needs to be an avenue for alternative ideas to be heard? What ideas do you have for providing such a forum? What would it take to make it happen and with whom can you connect to make it be a reality?
Resources for Reflection and Action: Student Coalition for Social Justice, University of St. Thomas, 2150 Summit Ave., St. Paul, MN. Phone: 651-962-6598. Email: msvertin@stthomas.edu. The Soapbox newsletter is published by the Center for Service Learning and Social Action. Consortium of Peace Research, Education, and Development (COPRED), c/o ICAR MSN 4D4, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA 22030-4444. Phone: 703-993-2405. Email: copred@gmu.edu. Website: www/gmu/edu/departments/1CAR/copred. In addition to publishing a peace research journal and conducting conferences, they have published the “Global Directory of Peace Studies and Conflict Resolution Programs” which is available for sale via their webpage. Overseas Development Network (ODN), PO Box 1430, Cambridge, MA 02238. Phone: 617-868-3002. A network of college activists working on Third World issues. Sojourners, Box 29272, Washington, DC 20017. Phone: 202-636-3637. A magazine for staying abreast of peace and justice issues. Seeds of Peace: A catalogue of quotations, complied by Jeanne Larson and Madge Micheels-Cyrus (Santa Cruz, CA: New Society Publishers, 1987). Designed for easy use with pages tabbed by subject, this book is an invaluable resource for speechmakers, sermon writers, and newsletter editors. When Students Have Power: Negotiating authority in a critical pedagogy, by Ira Shor. (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1996). After twenty years of critical teaching, Shor unexpectedly found himself faced with a student uprising. How Shor resolves this student rebellion, while remaining true to his commitment to power-sharing and critical pedagogy, is the profound learning of this book. Human Rights Here and Now: Celebrating the universal declaration of human rights, edited by Nancy Flowers. (Available from the Human Rights USA Resource Center, 229 19th Avenue South, Suite 439, Minneapolis, MN 55455, 1998). The Kid’s Guide to Social Action, by Barbara A. Lewis. (Minneapolis, MN: Free Spirit Press, 1991). Contains real stories about kids and teens that are making a difference at home and around the world. Provides step-by-step guides to social action power skills. Provides addresses, phone numbers, and websites for other social action groups, federal and state government offices, and awards and recognition for kids. Social Action Biblography, by Rebecca Janke. Available from Growing Communities for Peace, PO Box 248, Scandia, MN 55073. Phone: 651-257-2478. Contains hundreds of resources for social action ideas for children ages three to twelve. Website: www.peacemaker.org. | ||
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